Chapter Four
Sheikha Viviana al-Raqqah. Holy fucking shit.
It would have been less shocking to discover Elvis really was still alive and the moon was nothing more than a ball of Swiss cheese. Of all theit-could-happenoutcomes she’d had to steel herself for as possible consequences of working for the CIA on hostile terrain, this particular scenario had never factored into her thinking.
What if he was telling the truth? What if her government truly did know she was now the forced bride of a jihadist? She grimly decided the only good point to this was Muhammad would probably kill himself off eventually in some suicide bombing or another. She just hoped it wasn’t while anywhere nearher.
“Bride of Jihad,” she muttered to herself. “Bride of Chucky is more appealing!” At least a possessed doll could be thrown into a fireplace.
Viviana rubbed her aching temples. She didn’t want to bathe, she didn’t want sugared, and she damn sure didn’t want to consummate this farce of a marriage. She knew a handful of CIA operatives, male and female alike, who had done this sort of thing before. The major difference being they were given a choice. That and the fact they were “taking one for the team” as undercover agents who knew they’d eventually get out.
She couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of intelligence had been traded in exchange for her lifetime imprisonment. If she had a way to upload a video to YouTube telling the world what the CIA had done to her she—
Viviana stilled. She frowned thoughtfully.
A cursory glance around the bedroom alone bespoke of an owner who kept up to date on technology. Given that knowledge, the YouTube idea wasn’t exactly farfetched.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she mulled over the possibilities. Perhaps all hope was not yet lost.
* * * * *
“I can do this myself,” Viviana said awkwardly. Her cheeks pinkened. “Wallah.”I swear to God.
Muhammad’s mother was unconvinced and flatly told her so. “Lazem osa’e feke Bl awal,” she ground out.You must earn my trust.“Ana ma aa’ate el se’ea la hadan gherek.” I do not give it freely to one such as yourself.
Viviana frowned. As if she wanted to be here any more than the older woman wanted her here.
“Ummi!” her companion chastised, embarrassed. She was obviously Muhammad’s sister forummimeantmomormommy. “Momo asked us to be kind,” she whispered. “Respect his wishes, please.”
Viviana glanced up at her so-called husband’s younger sibling. She was a pretty girl, most likely in her early twenties. Her eyes were gentle, kind.
“Bah!” the mother-in-law she already loathed spat. “Her kind killed your brothers—my sons! They murdered my grandsons in cold blood as well as their mothers!”
“Excuse me,” Viviana cut in. Freshly bathed by force, she now sat on the bed naked, her hands covering as much of her large breasts as they could. “Let’s recall I do speak Arabic,” she said in Arabic.
“I have not forgotten, infidel.”
“Ummi,” her daughter said more forcefully, “enough.”
Viviana pasted on a blatantly fake smile. “You know how to make a hostage bride feel welcomed. I’m looking forward to spending the holidays with you already.”
Both women’s faces turned red—the younger from embarrassment, the elder from anger.
“Listen to me,kafir,” Muhammad’s mother bit out.Kafirwas a derogatory term for a non-Muslim. “I put up with you in my home for the sake of my son only. Do not push me.”
“Then help me escape,” Viviana said evenly. Her gaze narrowed. “I put up with you because I have no choice at the moment. Give me clothes and an open door and I’ll do us both a favor.”
She waved that away. “You would be killed long before you reached the Syrian border, much less your embassy.”
“That would be my problem, not yours.”
“We should not be discussing these things,” her daughter interjected. “Momo will not be pleased.”
“Aaliyah,” the older woman said. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I am trying.”
Viviana’s eyebrows rose. If this was trying she’d hate to see hernottry.
“Momo has told me things of your new daughter-in-law he has not told you,” Aaliyah informed her mother. “Viviana’s parents were killed in a suicide bombing while taking a holiday in Africa. We are not the only ones in this room who have lost much.”
