Chapter Text
Sunlight streamed through the giant glass window, painting her loft in shades of cream and gold. Zafira ran a hand through her hair, stumbling towards the kitchen in a sleepy haze. A quick fumble by the sink had the faucet running, and Zafira shoved her mouth beneath it, too tired to bother with a cup.
She jerked away from the tap, chin colliding with the faucet, when a loud buzz reverberated through the loft. Sukkar let out an indignant mewl from his perch on the couch, rays of sun streaking his white fur with gold. A stream of curses escaped her as Zafira shut off the tap, rubbing at her chin where she was sure a bruise was forming.
The doorbell rang again—no, the idiot on the other side of her door wasn’t just ringing the doorbell, they were pressing down on it. She let out a half-crazed scream and started on her war-path to the door, petting Sukkar behind the ears as she went.
Zafira flung the door open, opening her mouth to curse out the person on the other side, “What the—”
Yasmine Ra’ad shouldered past her, dragging an apologetic looking Deen Ra’ad behind. “Were you sleeping?”
“No, I was in the kitchen.” Zafira shut the door with a scowl. She needed a smoke.
Yasmine huffed. “Did you just wake up?”
“No, I woke up earlier,” Zafira said slowly, biting her cheek against a smile at the exasperated look Yasmine sent her. Zafira debated whether she was insane enough to smoke now, she frowned remembering the last time she had done so in Yasmine’s presence. Ah, screw it. She was tired and cranky and her day would only get worse.
“It’s 2 in the evening, Zafira. Who sl— what are you doing?” Yasmine batted the cigarette out of Zafira’s hand.
“Just one.” Zafira whined but Yasmine leveled her with a look.
“You said you needed my expertise and if you want me to stay, that means no smoking.”
Deen gently took the cigarette box away, setting it on the counter. Zafira shot him a glare as he sat on the couch, scooping Sukkar into his arms. “You never call.”
The Ra’ad siblings were everything she was not. Golden. Kind-hearted. Or at least, Deen was.
Yasmine’s maniacal self had set about the kitchen, spoons clanking, pots banging, and something whistling on the stove. “You didn’t eat breakfast did you?” Yasmine called. And then, much quieter: oh my god, when was the last time you washed the dishes and what is a sock doing by the sink?
“That’s not why I called.” Zafira sank down beside Deen, gently picking Sukkar up and placing him in the space her folded legs made. The bastard climbed right out and returned to Deen’s lap, tail curling around his wrist.
Deen tilted his head, the barest hint of a smug smile flitting across his baby-round face. He studied her with his soft eyes. “Why did you call?”
Yasmine plopped on the loveseat across from them. “Yeah, you interrupted our Great Arawiyan Bake Off marathon.”
“Haven’t you marathoned that ten times already?” Zafira kicked her legs up on the table.
“And this is our eleventh one.” Yasmine leaned forward, hazel eyes narrowing. “Now stop evading the question."
Deen hummed. “We can always take out your reasons by force.”
Zafira chewed her bottom lip, she had known Yasmine and Deen for nearly her entire life and she knew neither of them would be happy about her plan. “I’m throwing a party.” She took in their unsurprised faces. “And I need your help."
“A party?” Yasmine frowned. “You’re always throwing parties. Why do you suddenly need our help?”
“Please.” Zafira did her best imitation of a pout. She was always throwing parties, and if she didn’t get married and get her inheritance, that would have to stop. Skies, she’d have to move out of her loft what with her funds running low. It wasn’t that Zafira was lazy but every time she secured a job, she somehow managed to lose it within a month. She’d been fired just last month when she had planted her Saint Laurent heel in her boss’s groin after he had ogled her one too many times.
The Ra’ad siblings glanced at each other with mirrored sighs. “How could we ever deny you anything?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be a line between lovers,” Zafira pointed out to Yasmine.
“If we didn’t love you, we’d have already killed you and taken Sukkar,” Deen piped up.
“You don’t have to kill me to take Sukkar.”
“Really?”
“No.”
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Zafira stood at the threshold of the room, fingers curled around a glass. She tuned out the faint thrum of music, watching the turnout for her party with a barely concealed frown.
Where was he? Zafira tugged at her dark blue dress, one arm curled around her stomach as people drifted past her. Yasmine and Deen had yet to arrive and she sorely missed the comforting presence her best friends brought.
Zafira pulled out her phone, chewing on her bottom lip as she contemplated shooting him a text. He was supposed to have come an hour ago.
Her fingers itched for a cigarette, and as if summoned by the mere thought, Yasmine appeared in front of her, a gleam in her hazel eyes. Her golden hair was twisted into a bun, loose locks curling down to frame her face. An emerald green dress hugged her generous curves, shimmering in the light. The dark-haired man beside her was equally beautiful, dressed in an unbuttoned dark green suit, revealing a snug black turtleneck beneath.
“Yasmine. Misk.” Zafira tipped her head in acknowledgement of the couple, looking past them for a certain mop of black hair.
“You—” Yasmine’s eyes widened just when Zafira felt a pair of strong arms encircle her waist, and a chin slotted against her shoulder. She stiffened, resisting the urge to flee.
“Hello, darling.” A deep voice rumbled before she could turn and slap whoever it was. Nasir. She schooled her features into one of surprised adoration. Or so she hoped. It might have come out as a grimace.
“Hi?” Zafira hated that it came out as a question. He straightened, chin leaving her shoulder empty and cold, but his arms didn’t relax their hold around her. So when he laughed, she felt it more than she heard it.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite lovebirds!” Altair’s booming voice carried over the din of partygoers. Zafira watched Yasmine’s face sour.
“What is going on?” Yasmine hissed and Zafira offered her a tight lipped smile. She didn’t remember inviting Altair. Or the stunning woman that stalked beside him in a red sheath dress, a look of indifference on her chiseled features.
“Altair!” Misk didn’t seem to share his wife’s hatred for the golden-haired man. “It’s been a long time.”
“Indeed,” Altair replied. “Because every time I come to your house your wife tries to murder me with a non-stick pan.”
“It’s not non-stick, you idiot. It’s stainless steel,” Yasmine huffed and Zafira pinched the bridge of her nose.
Nasir cleared his throat behind Zafira and she wondered if he was getting uncomfortable. “I didn’t invite you here to squabble with my fiancee’s guests.”
“Your what?!” Yasmine screeched and Zafira winced, burrowing back into Nasir’s frame as the other guests turned to look at them. Maybe I should have told her in private.
“That’s a bit too close, darling,” Nasir whispered, warm breath ghosting over her ear. “Let’s save that for the bedroom, hmm?”
Zafira pinched his thigh, ignoring the flush that rose to her cheeks. Nasir let out a surprised grunt and Zafira smirked. The others turned to look at them from where Altair had been introducing his friend.
Zafira cleared her throat, feeling the heavy weight of Yasmine’s glare on her. “Where’s Deen?”
“He’s running a bit late,” Yasmine bit out, eyes narrowed.
Zafira nodded and Nasir’s arms disappeared from around her waist as he came to stand beside her. After a moment, his fingers threaded through hers, and Zafira was too stunned for a minute to think.
“Well?” Yasmine cocked her head and Misk muttered something that had her glaring up at him.
Zafira blinked at Yasmine, before Altair mouthed a subtle go on at her. She didn’t notice Deen stepping to their little circle and try as she might, Zafira couldn’t summon the words. Panic crawled through her and her fingers tightened around Nasir’s. She almost laughed at how pathetic she was, trying to pull off a whole marriage when she couldn’t lie to save her life.
“Well,” Nasir began, voice steady as he took the reins. “Zafira and I wanted to announce that we’ve been happily”—Zafira tried not to scoff at that—“engaged for almost a month now and we’re planning on having our wedding soon.”
“Engaged?” This came from Deen, eyes widening. Zafira thought he might faint.
“A month?” Yasmine asked, gaze murderous. Zafira wondered if it was too late to change her name to George and run away to the isle of elephants. “And you’re planning on getting married now?”
“What can I say?” Nasir flashed a grin. “We’re madly in love, aren’t we, darling?”
Zafira hid her cringe behind a mumbled mhhhmm before plastering on a smile, her stomach a bundle of nerves.
“I’ve never seen you around,” Misk said, and Zafira’s heart stopped before Misk grinned. “Welcome to the family.”
Zafira was grateful at least one of them was an idiot. Altair was nodding behind them eagerly and the woman, Kifah, if Zafira had heard correctly was growing more bored by the second. Deen, poor Deen, looked as if someone had just murdered his puppy.
Yasmine elbowed Misk not so subtly, before turning back to Zafira, “And where’s your ring?”
Zafira froze. “I—”
“What do you mean?” Nasir’s fingers brushed her neck, and warmth bloomed wherever he touched. “It’s right there.”
The con man’s fingers tugged at a chain around her neck—a chain she hadn’t put on. A silver, glittering ring hung at the end. Con man, she reminded herself. At least one of them had thought this through.
“Why’s it around your neck?” Yasmine pressed, looking torn as to whether she should believe them or not.
“If I had it on my finger, it would have raised questions.” Zafira toyed with the ring. Were the diamonds real? She wondered how much it had cost. “But I wanted to keep it on me.”
“I didn’t realize this was an interrogation,” Nasir cut in smoothly.
“Can’t you be happy for me?” Zafira asked softly, finally finding her voice. “After… Baba’s death,”— forgive me, Baba, she thought as Yasmine’s eyes went wide—“Nasir was there for me. And I know you’ve always been by my side, Yasmine, but he and I, we were both alone and there’s something comforting knowing we only had each other. It may—”
“Oh, Zafira.” Yasmine rushed forward, arms enveloping her in a hug and maybe Zafira felt guilty for lying but she ignored it as she melted into her friend’s arms. “If he makes you happy, then I’m happy. I’m just worried you’re rushing into marriage.”
“We love each other,” Zafira said, the words bitter on her tongue. “I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”
A choked noise came from in front of her and when Zafira met Deen’s gaze, he offered her a watery smile. “Congratulations,” he whispered and before she could say anything, he was making his way through the crowd, heading straight towards the mini bar.
“So,” Yasmine turned back to Nasir. “If you’re going to be stealing my Zafira away, I need all the details. Your job—”
Shit. Zafira hadn’t thought that far.
“Assistant to Benyamin Haadi, one of the most influential rappers of our time,” Nasir replied without missing a beat.
“Oh,” Yasmine blinked, clearly not the answer she had been expecting. “Hav—”
“Yasmine,” Misk interrupted, sending Zafira a knowing look as he tugged her towards him and Zafira could have kissed him. She loved Yasmine but skies, the girl was nosy. “Dance with me, habibti.”
Misk pulled the shorter girl away and Altair tossed them a wink as he disappeared with Kifah.
“Benyamin Haadi?” Zafira hissed, turning to Nasir. She froze. It was the first time she had looked at him, and to say he was stunning was an understatement. His black hair looked like it had been carded through one too many times, stray locks falling over his forehead. His gray eyes constantly darted over the room, as though he were working a job instead of attending a party. Then again, this was a job.
And he was wearing glasses. He looked like he had crawled out of a magazine, all chiseled angles and copper-deep skin, like he was meant to be leaning against a Humvee staring into the distance and thinking about the hearts he would break later that night.
“Relax,” Nasir drawled. “It’s not like she’s going to go check with him. What?”
“You’re wearing glasses. Why are you wearing glasses?” And why was her voice strung a little too tight?
A whisper of a grin flashed across his face. “I thought it would make me look more innocent.”
Zafira bit her lip to stop the smile that threatened to overtake her features, and hurriedly looked away when his gaze dropped to her mouth. They fell into an awkward silence, and when Nasir’s arm snaked around her waist, she bristled at the contact.
“You need to loosen up if you want this to work,” Nasir mused.
“Not all of us are professional liars.” Zafira snapped.
They stood side by side, watching the party with equally sour expressions. A stranger would think they were attending a funeral if they didn’t know any better. Nasir sighed, slouching against the wall. “I expect payment for every time I have to touch you.”
Amusement tinged his words, and she let out a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry I’m that despicable to you.”
He didn’t say anything after that and Zafira glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, wondering how on earth they were ever going to survive an entire wedding when they couldn’t handle a party next to each other.
“How much was the ring?” She asked after a long moment.
“I wouldn’t know,” Nasir said, avoiding her gaze with purpose. She narrowed her gaze. She studied the fine etchings and the unpolished inside of the ring. It was probably an heirloom worth thousands. Of course he had stolen it.
She didn’t expect anything else from a con man.