Chapter Five
Muhammad waited for as long as lust would allow. He wanted to give Viviana as much time as possible to accept her fate, even if he doubted such a capitulation would occur at any point in the foreseeable future. In her eyes they had known each other for a few days. For him it had been over two months—forever in his culture. Compounding that with the fact he had not been inside a woman since the death of his wives, his sexual need was great.
Wearing silky white serwal pajama pants and nothing else, Muhammad pushed a wheeled serving cart down the long corridor toward his suite. The trolley was loaded with a variety of foods and drinks he had taken the time to choose himself. His selections were based entirely on the provisions he knew Viviana most enjoyed from months of observing her and her eating habits. She would pretend to like falafel whenever one of her former housemates prepared it, but Chicken Sharwarma, hummus, and Fattoush salad made her eat with vigor and passion.
This was going to be a long night and would require much patience on his part. He didn’t wish for her to fear him, yet he realized her apprehension was inevitable—at least for the present.
Already she had been his bride for four days, but because she had been asleep for three of them Muhammad had yet to give her themahr—bride gift—that was required before consummating their marriage. That too was inside one of the many drawers of the serving trolley. While a part of him couldn’t help but hope she liked hismahr, he was too pragmatic to expect anything beyond disdain from Viviana for quite some time.
His pulse picked up as he reached the doors to their apartment. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before opening them. He realized he had to keep his lust under control. At least for a little while longer.
Viviana heard the doors open, but she didn’t acknowledge Muhammad’s arrival. She continued to lie on her side, back facing him, and stare at nothing. The sound of squeaky wheels caused her curiosity to pique, but she didn’t give in to the urge to turn on her right side and look at its source.
“I know from your breathing you are awake,” Muhammad said.
She frowned, absently wondering how any human being could bethatdamn observant. The peculiar characteristic was simultaneously impressive and annoying.
“Correct,” she admitted, seeing no reason to bother lying. “So let’s just get this over with already.”
“Your romantic nature is wooing me in ways I hadn’t thought possible.”
Was that amusement in his voice? She glowered, though he couldn’t see it.
“What am I supposed to say?” Viviana asked drolly. “Oh goodie! It’s time to be raped by a terrorist!”
He was silent for a protracted moment. She got a little nervous, wondering if she’d gone way too far way too soon.
“If my people invaded your country and forced our ways upon you, would you meekly submit or would you fight back?”
“I would fight back. But I wouldn’t kill innocent civilians while doing it.”
“Neither would I.”
That pronouncement surprised her into silence. It was just as well for he wasn’t done speaking. She continued to give him her back.
“I will not rape you,” Muhammad said in a calm tone. There was a hint of irritation underscoring his words. “Though many of our women have suffered that fate at the hands of foreign invaders.”
Viviana winced. She couldn’t deny that ugly truth. Hell, she’d even been present when some allied soldiers had been arrested for that very crime and taken to God only knows where—presumably a military tribunal. Still…
“It happens both ways, you know. Your soldiers are pretty awful too.”
“You were raped?” he quietly asked.
She sighed. Viviana hated thinking back on that awful night. “No. I was the only one al Qaeda didn’t find. I hid under cleaning supplies in a janitorial closet.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment. “So that was you,” Muhammad murmured. “The one that got away.”
Viviana stilled. “You were there?”
“No. General Qabbani is a known enemy of mine. I was delighted by your escape.”
Everything he said was in direct contrast to what trite intel she did know about him. He was confusing her, assuming anything he said could be believed. She pulled the covers tighter, still not facing him. “If you aren’t going to rape me,” she asked, steering the conversation back to the here and now, “then why did you have your mother—a real joy of a woman by the way!—prepare me for consummation?”
His tone was hesitant. “My mother was unkind with you?”
“Not at all. I love being called ‘infidel’ and ‘kafir’ while being blamed for every atrocity committed against your family. Did she attendHitler’s Finishing School From Hellby chance? Or was it Stalin’s?The Mussolini Academy for Making People Want To Choke You Outmaybe?” Viviana frowned, but begrudgingly gave him the truth. “Although she did become more tolerable as the day wore on.”
She could hear Muhammad sigh. “I will speak with her. You should not be blamed for the deaths of my family any more than I should be blamed for the deaths of yours.”
