16
“You two hadn’t even laid eyes on each other in three years and you slept with him?” Carmen said from across the hotel room as Lora sat by the window and nursed Damascus. “Well done. I’m finally getting through to you!”
Lora tried to frown but it was hard when the smile was breaking so full she felt she was glowing like the sun. She looked down at her son suckling away on those same nipples that the Sheikh had ravaged one day earlier, and she almost laughed out loud at the memory of it. It seemed so crazy now—almost make believe. She’d never done anything like that before, and although there was still a sickening uneasiness of what those people outside the room must think of her, there was also an excitement that she couldn’t deny.
“Oh, please,” Carmen had said, waving away Lora’s shame with a flick of her wrist. “Those were Europeans. And I mean real Europeans, not prudish Brits. They didn’t give a shit. Half of them were too drunk to remember anything the next day, the other half were too busy arranging their own wife-swapping parties and lesbian orgies to care about one divorced American woman sleeping with a super-hot Arabian dude while on vacation.”
“Really?” Lora had said, her eyebrows raised. “Wife-swapping orgies? Really?”
“No, I made that up. But seriously, hon. No one cares. The only one judging you is yourself! And me, of course. But I’m judging you favorably, unlike your prudish inner nun.”
“Not that prudish,” Lora had muttered, thinking back to the way she’d run her hands along Amir’s naked body, feeling his muscled torso, pressing his hard buttocks, finally grasping his cock with confidence. God, he’d felt so big, so hard, so heavy in her hands . . . all for her. For her!
And then he came inside me, she thought as she watched her son nurse at her breast. For a moment she pictured another child at her other breast, a beautiful baby girl, light brown with dark hair and green eyes. Then she gasped and shook her head, pushing at the thought until it was relegated to the back of her mind. But it was still there, watching her, and she knew she’d have to deal with it at some point. He’d clearly felt the need to come inside her. He’d asked, and she’d said yes.
May I have the privilege, he’d asked. May I have this privilege.
Yes, she said in her head. Yes, you may.
“Hey,” came Carmen’s voice through it all. “What are you thinking?”
Lora shrugged as she wiped Damascus’s mouth and dried her nipple and breast, letting the sun shine on her bare boobs for a moment before covering up. “I’m thinking now what, I guess.” She glanced up and smiled. “Do I have to wait three days for him to call? Are we dating now? I have no idea what’s next!”
“Nothing’s next! I mean, everything’s next! We’re here for another week. He’s going to call, and you’re going to spend time with him. Then you two are going to fall in love and that’s that. It’s your fairytale, Lora. You’ve got your happy ending. It took three years of being married to a nightmare to get to it, sure, but you’re there!”
Lora was about to respond when her phone beeped. She reached for it, scrolling down to check her new emails. Then she frowned and glanced up at Carmen, her gaze shifting to Damascus, who was in his crib, staring up at her with his big brown eyes. Her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. She smiled as she wondered if there really was nothing of Mark in her son or if she just saw what she wanted to see. But then the smile faded quickly when she looked at her phone again, re-reading the email just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Nope. The email was from Mark’s lawyer, and it was proofed and formatted perfectly. There was no mistake.
“Speaking of being married to a nightmare,” Lora said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Carmen . . . he’s . . . I don’t even . . . why the hell would he even . . .”
“What?” Carmen said, walking over with her long strides and snatching the phone from Lora. Her eyes widened as she read it, and she shook her head and cursed the phone and then Mark and then the phone again. “He’s decided not to sign the divorce papers?! Why? You aren’t contesting the pre-nup. You aren’t suing him for anything except the statutory child-support—the minimum required by law. You aren’t even using a lawyer, for heaven’s sake. What’s his game? What’s he up to? What does he want?”
Lora glanced at Damascus again, and then she quickly snatched her child up from his crib and held him close to her breast. No, she thought. There’s no way. Mark barely wanted his wife, and there’s no way he wants his kid. And even if he does, he’s not getting him. Not Damascus. Not my son.
Carmen was biting her fingernails as she paced the room, shaking her head. “You can still get the divorce, even if he doesn’t sign the papers. Louisiana is a no-fault state, which means either spouse can ask for a divorce and the court will enforce it. Mark and his lawyer would know that. All this does is delay things, because if one spouse doesn’t want the divorce, you’d actually need to go to court and get a judge to make it final. Still, not a huge deal. It should be straightforward enough.”
Lora blinked as she rocked her son in her arms. She sat on the soft camel-leather couch and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the view of the minarets and domes of the Capital City of Johaar. “Read the rest of the email,” she said quietly.
Carmen picked up the phone again and swiped a couple of times. Lora watched as her friend’s face slowly turned red, her eyes narrowing. Finally Carmen looked up and blinked. “He’s saying that since you two were married in Johaar, your marriage and hence your divorce falls under the laws of Johaar. And although in Johaar a wife is allowed to divorce her husband if he cheats, if the husband repents for his transgressions and asks for another chance, then the wife must grant him that second chance.”
“A second chance,” Lora said, a distant smile coming to her face as she stared out the windows at the sand dunes rising up like mountains of gold on the horizon. “Mark wants a second chance at his pot of gold. Amir’s billions.”
Carmen frowned and looked at the phone again. “I don’t get it. Where does it say that?”
“It doesn’t. I’m saying that. Listen, there were photos taken last night. Something must have hit some news-site or blog or hashtag—maybe not CNN, but somewhere that Mark or his lawyer got a hold of it. So maybe Mark thinks I’m with the Sheikh and that . . . I dunno . . . that Amir will pay him off to grant the divorce according to Johaari law?”
Carmen laughed, but not because anything was funny. “That money-grubbing loser. I hate myself for even letting that marriage happen in the first place. Still, Amir is the Sheikh and supreme ruler, isn’t he? Even if this crap about your marriage being governed by Johaari law is valid, can’t he just void it with a wave of his royal wand?”
“Scepter, you mean.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking of a scepter, not a wand. Kings have scepters. Wizards have wands.”
Carmen snorted. “You’re such a nerd. How are we even friends.”
They both laughed for a moment, and Damascus coughed gently and pawed at Lora’s breast. She sighed and gave him her nipple, and the three of them sat in silence as the madness of the situation sunk in.
“So Mark’s gonna call at some point, yeah?”
Lora shrugged. “I guess. Not sure what I’m gonna say to that piece of work.”
“You say ‘Go fuck yourself and die in a hole somewhere, with worms coming out your ears’!”
“Carmen! Not in front of the baby!” Lora said, laughing as she covered Damascus’s tiny ears.
“Seriously though. Can’t we just have Mark killed? The Sheikh can get that done, can’t he? Then all Mark’s money would go to Damascus, you two would be set for life, and you won’t need anything from these weirdo men you seem to be attracting.”
“How is the Sheikh a weirdo?” Lora asked, raising an eyebrow.
Carmen laughed. “I just suggested you get your ex-husband killed and you’re more offended by me implying that the Sheikh is a weirdo? I think you’re the weirdo, hon.” She stood from the couch and faced Lora. “OK, obviously I’m kidding about getting anyone killed. But listen, hon. This Amir guy . . . he’s no joke either. I mean, you’ve got to be careful here. I know it must feel amazing to be wanted by a wealthy, handsome, exotic man with big muscles and a big . . . wand. But remember, three years ago he pretty much assaulted you in public, then pressured you into visiting him in private. Then last night . . .”
“OK stop, Carmen,” Lora said, frowning as she felt her anger rise. Was Carmen jealous? “Can we just stay focused on this divorce problem. What am I supposed to do here?”
“You need to talk to your new boyfriend,” Carmen said, rolling her eyes and then turning away.
“He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even know how to get in touch with him!”
Carmen snorted, walking to the window and pointing. “Um, there you go. That palace over there? That’s how you get in touch with him.” She turned, her expression softening, her gaze dropping to the carpet for a moment like she was feeling guilty, like maybe she’d recognized that flash of envy within herself.
Lora smiled. She loved Carmen like a sister, and sisters sometimes got jealous of one another. That was part of the bond. Part of the love. Part of it all. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I can watch Damascus,” Carmen said quietly. Then she winked. “Just in case you need both hands to . . . um . . . handle things.”
“Did you just call me a slut?” Lora said, turning red and laughing.
“A royal slut. The best kind. Now gimme my godson and put on your black dress.”
Lora thought a moment. Then she shook her head. “Yellow sundress. And I’m taking Damascus with me.”