His mother probably wanted to discuss the engagement announcement or, he swallowed thickly, his wedding. Just thinking about marriage had Madani tugging his necktie loose as he strode down the sidewalk. As his parents kept reminding him, it was the next logical step in his life. He was thirty-two, educated, well-traveled and established. The time had come for him to take a wife and start a family. As the next in line to rule the country, it also was Madani’s duty.
Turning matrimony into an obligation hardly made it any more palatable.
Still, he shouldn’t complain. Nawar, the bride his parents had chosen for him, was beautiful in both face and form. She also was bright, only recently finishing up her PhD in economics at Kashaqra’s leading university. Per her request, all talk of marriage had been postponed until she had completed her education, causing Madani to wonder if her pursuit of a doctoral degree was an indication of her own mixed emotions.
Here in the West, arranged marriages were considered archaic and unromantic. Even in his country many of the younger generation considered such alliances old-fashioned and unnecessary. After all, shouldn’t picking a life partner be left to the two people involved?
Azeem, who to Madani’s knowledge wasn’t even seriously involved with anyone, was surprisingly outspoken on the matter, which in turn made him annoyingly outspoken in his dismay over Madani’s decision to honor his arranged betrothal.
“You have an opportunity to lead even before taking your father’s place,” Azeem had hollered during one of their many arguments on the subject. “If you refuse to marry under these conditions, others would be willing to follow your example.”
He’d considered that at one time, but he’d shaken his head. “It is done.”
Madani hadn’t just been referring to the fact that his betrothal to the daughter of one of his father’s closest political allies had been arranged when he was still a toddler. As he’d told Azeem, it was his father’s wish. What reason did he have to risk his father’s health? Nawar would make a suitable wife. Besides, the notion of marrying for love seemed far-fetched. He’d spent time with plenty of women over the years, but he’d never felt the intense emotion the poets claimed existed.
For no reason he could fathom, his thoughts turned to Emily Merit.
“I was unaware you knew someone in this part of Manhattan,” Azeem had said when they’d arrived outside her apartment building that morning. “She must be very pretty to have roused you so early after a late night. Am I to conclude you have changed your mind about a final fling with which to remember your bachelorhood?”
“This is a business meeting,” he’d answered irritably. “Nothing more.”
It was a business matter, but the pretty young woman he’d hired to cater his dinner party also had captured his interest.
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