“You are the only straight female in the whole world not affected by this hotness,” Sarah grumbled. “Have you seen how sickeningly hot he looks on the covers of magazines? There should be a law prohibiting him from going anywhere wearing clothes. Not only is he hot, but he’s rich as hell. There’s an article online about the latest vacation home he bought. It’s this sprawling estate in Kensington, London. It cost him thirty-eight million dollars.”
“Good for him.” Amelia deadpanned. “Why are we having this discussion again?”
“Because you're getting married to the man in the forty minutes, and you need to know what properties you're entitled to. Knowing you, this marriage would eventually end in the bottomless valley of divorce. You're only entitled to assets acquired during the marriage. Most people believe that he bought the place for you, though, but you'll need documents to lay claim to it. Others believe it's probably where you'll be spending your honeymoon, but I'm not certain. You need to keep track of everything.”
Amelia cast her a fleeting glance. “Why do I need to do anything, when I have you? Your nose is so far up in my business, that I've decided to leave the handling to you.”
Sarah frowned. “You don't have to be so salty all the goddamn time. I'm just looking out for you.”
“Oh, no.” Amelia turned to face her as soon as a seamstress finished with the final adjustment to her wedding dress. “I'm being serious. I don't care enough to monitor these things, but since you do, you might as well be my eyes and ears. You have to protect my interests.”
“Oh,” Sarah sat up straight, surprised. “Sure. I'll keep you posted.”
“Good.” Amelia turned to a full-length mirror in the room, then whirled left then right, as she eyed her halter form-fitting gown critically. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful!” The seamstress beat Sarah to a reply with a big smile on her face. “I knew the Oscar De La Renta was the one. Plus, I've seen most of your pictures, and lace always looked good on you.”
“I was speaking to my cousin.” she shot her a berating glance.
“I'm sorry.”
“I agree with Kristin,” Sarah said.
“It's Kristen, Miss Sarah.” the girl corrected with a smile.
“Right, Kristen.” she returned the smile. “The lace looks mad good, and you are the most beautiful bride, Amelia.”
“Hmm. You're the only other person in this house with a sense of style.” Amelia glanced at her sexy silhouette and open back with a slight smile.
Laughter broke out from a little door connecting her dressing room to the other one, where the rest of her bridal party giggled, gossiped, and gallivanted around half-clothed.
“Why the hell are they so loud?” she hissed. “One would think they're the ones getting married.”
“I'll shut the door.” Kristen moved to do it.
Sarah glanced at her watch, “We have ten minutes left before our media team arrives for your pictures. I think you should have something to eat.”
“Naa, I'm good.” she glanced at her hair and makeup.
“I got you earrings.” Sarah got of her position on the bed and moved to where her cousin stood. “It's a wedding gift.”
“Thanks.” Amelia collected the box and assessed the pair of blue diamond earrings it encased. She stared at them with hawk eyes for a while, and Sarah could immediately tell she'd figured they weren't real diamonds. She was so sure the thing would be thrown in her face when Amelia shrugged and began putting them on.
“Err, are you sure you want to wear that?”
She sent her a tight smile. “What's that traditional wedding rhyme again? Something old, something new, ….something fake?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and moved back to the bed. “Something blue. You don't have to wear it. That's the best my personal income could afford and although fake, it costs like $500.”
“I like the color.” she shrugged. “I bet no one would notice how little you earn from your scribbling, since it looks so much like the real deal.”
“It's not called scribbling, it's writing, and I'm a professional food critic.” Sarah deadpanned. “But what if someone notices?”
“I'm too angry to care. But if that happens, I hope you feel terrible. I know very well that you could've easily purchased the real thing from your weekly allowances.”
“I spent my first salary on you. The least you can be is grateful, you witch.”
Amelia scoffed. “Grateful for peanuts?”
Temper rising, Sarah scrambled off the bed and moved towards her “You know what, take it off!”
“No. Get away from me, Sarah.”
“Give it back!” she began to struggle for it.
“No!”
“Ladies! Ladies!!” a nervous Kristen ran towards where they scuffled. “Please calm down. You'll ruin your dresses!”
“It's my wedding day, Sarah! And certainly not a time for your stupid tantrums.”
“To hell with that, you hate the groom! Give it back!”
“Ladies! You'll ruin the--” the words died in her mouth as a loud ripping sound caused everyone to stiffen in their spots. “Oh my God.” Kristen staggered backward, and a hand flew to her chest.
Eyes wide, Sarah slowly glanced at the damage and rocked back, too. “That wasn't supposed to happen.”
“How bad is it!” Amelia screamed as she ran to the mirror.
The interconnected door opened again and Amelia's mom called out the bridal party in the other room. “Ten minutes guys!” The announcement caused more laughter and scurrying about as she stepped in and shut the door behind her.
“Here are your flowers, darling. I--” She froze as she took in the damage, dropping a bouquet of white lilies and orchids in her shock. “--what the hell happened?!” she was horrified.
Amelia turned back to Sarah slowly, anger pulsing through her veins as she pointed a long slender finger at her. “You, bitch!”
“I'm sure I can fix it, madam.” Kristen squeaked.
“I'll kill you!” she launched at Sarah, who tried but failed to get away in time. Her mother and the seamstress ran to separate them, but not before Amelia pulled out the embossed side flower on Sarah's strapless silk taffeta cocktail dress.
“That's enough!” Mrs. Rodriguez pulled her up with a strength that caused Amelia's arm to bruise.
Just then, the main door to the dressing room opened, and her assistant--Camella Thompson--stuck her head through the opening. The sound of music filtered in. “The bridegroom showed up at the church, so I guess there’s going to be a wedding..... W-What happened to your dress?!”
“Argh!!” Amelia stomped on her feet as she screamed at the top of her lungs. Knowing she was at the brink of a major blow-up, her mother and cousin rushed to calm her down quickly.
“Just breathe, beautiful. Breathe baby, breathe. You’ll be fine.”
“I'm sorry!” Sarah stifled back a sob.
“I can fix this, ladies. I really can.” Camella ran to pour Amelia a glass of cold water as Kristen assured everyone of her sewing abilities. “Fifteen minutes! It's serious damage, but I have everything I need here to fix it in Fifteen minutes, ladies.”
“Alright fine!” Amelia got up and struggled out of the dress, shoving off anyone who tried to help her. “Get me my bloody makeup team, Camella! Don't just stand there like you're absolutely useless!”
“Yes, my sweetness.” she handed the water over to Mrs. Rodriguez and scampered towards the door.
****
****The church doors opened an hour later, and the bridesmaids, one by one, glided down the aisle toward the pulpit. The place was filled with family, friends, well-wishers, and majorly paparazzi. It was set to be the wedding of the year.Faces blurred. Whispers blended. The music swelled as Sarah moved down the aisle. She gave Kristen, who sat on one of the pews towards the back, a watery smile of appreciation for a job well done with the dresses. It was returned with a thumbs-up.At the front of the church, she locked on her aunt's, Mrs. Rodriguez's, reassuring smile and let it steady her as she floated towards one of the two spaces beside her. When she took her place, she could finally relax and return her smile too.Then the traditional wedding march began to play and the doors at the back of the sanctuary opened again.Amelia filled the opening, looking radiant in her lacy white gown and matching veil. She was escorted by her father, who look
Amelia Rodriguez had just stepped out of a Hermès luxury store. She was wearing her favorite new Rei Kawakubo suit, which she'd just had tailored to perfection. She stood aside with a bottle of champagne chilled to a perfect 37 °F as store attendants dropped onto the back seat of her vehicle, bags upon bags of limited edition items. She then eased herself into her BMW M convertible--an impulse buy of three days ago--and opted to leave the top down as she brought the powerful engine to life. Sliding on her sunglasses, she maneuvered her way down a meandering lane first, then out through the highway. After two successful interviews with LA fashion magazine and VOGUE on an insight into her life, she felt wonderful about today. And it was a beautiful day indeed.She selected G-Eazy and Kehlani's Good Life from her playlist and turned up the volume. Head bopping and hands tapping up and down on the steering wheel, as she sang along with
“He's devilishly handsome.”Sarah Rodriguez gushed over pictures of Zaki Omidyar--on her iPad. Much to Amelia's dismay, she'd been drooling and dropping light kisses all over his pictures all evening. It irked her that not even a single member of her family stood by her against this bizarre marriage arrangement. To worsen matters, she'd gathered from Camella's investigations that he'd been the one driving the Porsche Cayenne that destroyed her vehicle and ruined her perfect afternoon, two weeks ago.Reluctantly, she glanced at his pictures again. He's ludicrously handsome, alright. A lady's man. He had tanned skin, green eyes, a chiseled jawline, and luscious full lips. His dark tousled hair gave him a rakish appearance which made him seem somewhat erratic. From the pictures she saw--all in which he wore a suit--she concluded that he had the cold-hearted boss vibe going for him.“Eh,” She turned away from the iPad agai
“The date isn't changing, Zaki.” Ali Omidyar's voice had a note of finality to it as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. Both men, dressed in black suits and ties were currently in a closed-door meeting at Omidyar Oil & Gas. One of the many companies that made up the Omidyar group of companies, both in America and Iran. Zaki had his head in his hands as he stared down at his desk. If he was being honest, he knew there was no way he could get of this arrangement. He'd been foolish enough to promise his dying grandfather that he would marry Amelia, and now that promise hung on his head like a death sentence. And how couldn't he? The man had given him everything he'd ever needed growing up, and never asked anything in return, till now. This was the only request he ever made till his passing. Fulfilling his wishes was more of a matter of honor to Zaki. A matter of respect. “Knowing you, I expect nothing less.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “It
She glanced out of the window and then back at her silver watch.He was late.Amelia was grouchy in a bridal shop. Arms and legs crossed as she sipped champagne and glared at everyone who paraded a white gown her way--her mom and cousin inclusive.She was wearing a black bubble Salvatore Ferragamo gown, her hair was in an upbraided bun and her face was makeup-free.Everything happening around her infuriated her. From the dresses to the people to the wedding setting of the room to the champagne flute they'd offered her. Her little plan to obliterate the arrangement by being on her worst behavior during the introductory dinner hadn't yielded any fruit. Both families had proceeded with preparations without proper consent from her.“The ceremony is slated for the 30th.” Her mom had said the next morning. “All you have to do is show up.”To make matters worse, news of the wedding had been leaked to
¶ Zaki needed a drink—or ten. He’d been holed up in the executive waiting room of Liam & Cadwell--a celebrity-owned industrial loft where the best engagement pictures in Hollywood were taken--waiting, for his supposed fiancée who was running a whole hour late. He'd pushed back meetings, postponed some, and canceled others, just so he could make it on time. It irked him that the spoiled-rotten brat that was being foisted on him as a bride, couldn't return the courtesy by being on time. “Mr. Omidyar, once again, if you require anything, do let me know sir.” The impish twist of the waitress’s lips and the direct way she eyed him said she was offering more than a drink to ease his waiting. He declined her offers with a dismissive shake of his proud head. Since he arrived, she'd been trying to get him to look past her face and down to her boobs which were almost rolling out of the white short-sleeved shirt she was wearing. He took a glance
The moment the elevator to Zaki's penthouse suite slide open after his long day of photoshoot, a frown framed his handsome face when he saw that his front door stood ajar. He stepped out and covered the short distance to the door, moving cautiously as he did. He knocked. “Freya?” The place was dark, and he heard a noise, but it wasn’t an acknowledgment. He stepped in, still proceeding with caution until he flipped on the lights and reeled with shock. “What the hell?” he exclaimed. His central hallway looked like it had been the site of a ticker-tape parade with a dash of something extra. The glossy hardwood floor was littered with scraps of paper and pieces of broken glasses. Moving past that chaos, he marched to his living room and froze. His 82 inches smart TV had been destroyed with a baseball bat, leather chairs had been ripped open with a kitchen knife which still stuck to the bottom of one of the three overturned chairs in the room, and more pape