I look around the office,which has become my second home during the last year. The building has been renovated to such an extent, it is hard to imagine my father here. Which was the point. I replaced the rich colors and dark wood, which suited my father more than me, with glass and chrome. It’s modern, trendy and far less morbid.
“Sai,” Deniz Veer drags me away from my thoughts. I look up from my laptop screen, as he stalks into my office. Ravi’s father commands attention when he enters a room, not necessarily mine, though. His face is stoic as he takes a seat in the wingback chair across from me, crossing one leg over the other, exuding confident. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You may be my father’s advisor, Deniz, but you are not mine. If you want to see me, you make an appointment like everyone else.”
“There it is, that Shah spirit your father was afraid you lacked.” That stung. I am not oblivious to my father’s opinion of me, but the fact that everyone else knows is a fucking low blow.
“There are a lot of things neither you nor my father knows about me,” I say under my breath.
“Are you ready for this weekend?”
“Thanks for the unwelcome reminder.” I sneer. Of course, I am not ready for this weekend. Being a Shah is not as simple as it sounds. Yes, we have wealth, and stature, but we’d have nothing without The Society. My great-great-grandfather made a wager with them, and every Shah since has had to comply. My great-great grandfather did, my grandfather did, my father…and now it is my turn.
“It is tradition, Sai, and your father wants to be sure you understand just what that entails.”
“Deniz, you can go tell my old man to fuck himself. If he has something to say to me, he best say it himself, not send his lackeys to do it for him.”
I see Veer’s jaw stiffen. I hope he understands his place. He may be my best friend’s father, but he is still on my payroll. I do not work for him. I do not like him, and I sure as fuck don’t need his advice. “So, unless you have an idea about how I can reclaim my life, you can see yourself out.”
He stands. “Sai, the fate of your family, rests on this union, so you’d best make sure it happens. What happens after, well, that is another thing.”
I glare at him across my desk. I don’t need another reminder. I’m being forced to marry some aristocrat’s daughter, a woman I have never met, and I am expected to be okay with that. I’ve never even had a long-term relationship with a woman, and now I’m supposed to be tied down in marriage and produce an heir for the Shahs.
As I watch Deniz walk out of my office, I pull out the folder from my top drawer. I look down at the picture of the woman I’ve never met. Amelia Tekin is everything I loathe in a woman, entitled, and currently in a relationship with Henry Walsh, an Englishman she met during her time in Oxford. I make it my business to know everything, especially when it impacts my future. And Henry Walsh could be a deterrence.
* * *
I findmy father in his study when I arrive home. I don’t usually wander into this part of the house, but he’s asked to see me. He’s sitting by the fireplace, his signature drink, Louie XIV, in a crystal glass. Above the fireplace is a picture of my mother, yet another woman I have never met, but one I see so vividly in my nightmares I feel I know her. She’s dressed in a red gown, dark curls falling over her shoulder. Her smile is wide, dazzling. My father has told me often enough how disgraced I should be that I look like her.
“Are you just going to stand there?” his voice is hard, cold like it usually is when he talks to me.
I make my way closer , taking a seat in the chair next to his before looking over at him. He never looks at me, not unless he has to. He sees me when he deems it necessary and not otherwise. His hair is salt and pepper, brushed back, and he’s in a suit like he always is. I loathe the man as much as he loathes me.
“The Society wants your word, Sai, your word that you will do whatever it takes to make sure you marry the Tekin girl. They do not want any mistakes, misunderstandings, none of your usual fuck ups.”
I suck in a breath and let it out slowly. “I have given them my word.”
“Your word is nothing.” his voice booms. “I’m constantly cleaning up after you. You’re a liability, reckless, a fucking fool.”
It’s been a year since the incident on the yacht, and since then, I have kept a low profile. I haven’t done anything out of line since pledging to The Society a year ago, yet he still speaks to me like I’m a child. I don’t bother responding to him. No matter what I do, I will always be a failure to Avi Shah. Instead, I stand and say, “There will be no mistakes.” Then I leave the room without looking back.
4
Kennedy
“Why does beingyour best friend always entail me doing shit I don’t want to?” I scowl at Amelia, who just waves me off and continues to tug at the over-the-top ball gown I’m being fitted into. The lilac bodice wraps firmly around my torso, and the massive chiffon skirt flairs at my waist. This is the third dress I’ve tried on, and the third one I have loathed. I look at myself in the mirror and groan. “I look awful. Positively, awful.”
“You do not. You look like a princess.” she says haughtily. Sometimes I wonder how Amelia and I ever became friends at all. We met at Oxford, where we were both studying art history. She was there because her forward-thinking mother insisted on it, despite her father’s refusal, and I was there on a scholarship. We got to chatting on the first day of our first year, and despite being total opposites, we discovered we had a lot in common. Like the fact that my father is Turkish like she is, and our mutual love of art.
She has also lost a parent. Her mother passed away while we were at Uni.
My mother always tells me that people who have lost someone always gravitate toward each other.Maktub, is what some may call it. She read that inthe Alchemist. Some things are just written. No scarlet mark is needed, like souls connect inexplicably.
Amy, as Amelia prefers to be called, hates everything about her life in Bebek, and her years at Uni were an adventure. Her words. She is the daughter of an aristocrat, and although, every bit the diva, she isn’t a spoiled rich girl. It’s what I adore the most about her. She is real and authentically Amy.
Her father is a major investor in the Bebek. I’ve never met her family, but this trip is supposed to change that. Being here is also a sort of piece to my puzzle. It’s where my father was born and where my parent's love story began. My mother was the adventurer, and my father, her exotic prince. Their story was one written in the stars. According to my mother a love like theirs only comes around once, ignites the soul, and then disappears like smoke after the embers of fire die down.
“I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to gate crash your party.” I moan. The last thing I want is to be stuck in a room full of wealthy people who look at me like I’m from another planet. Truth be told life in England, can’t be compared to this. From my first first-class plane trip, to the limousine that picked us up at the airport. Every single thing has been outrageously lavish. Besides, I get awkward around people in general. I am more of the stay at home keeping myself company sort. Amy reminds me a lot of my mother, which is probably why they get along so well.
