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Howie was true to his word; once they got back from Japan he began gathering information for Suheera about schools in the area. As she read over the catalogs, Suheera once again felt overwhelmed. There were too many choices; she’d always been told what to do – never given the opportunity to choose for herself.

“What do I do?” she asked Howie one evening. “Tell me what I should take, where I should go.”

“Nope, you need to make your own decision.” He laughed at her crestfallen expression. “Life is full of choices, sweetheart. You can weigh the merits of each, look very logically at it and come to a decision – or just go with your heart.”

“You are not helping much,” she said crossly, then smiled at him when he laughed.

“What is your favorite thing in the world to do?” he asked. Suheera blushed suddenly as the image of Howie laying naked in bed came to her. “Besides that,” he added hastily. Suheera saw his face was as red as hers must be.

“I love to cook, and I am good at it,” she said.

“Ok, that’s a start.” He hunted through the myriad of catalogs and came up with several for cooking schools. “Do you think you’d want to become a professional – or just learn some new skills?”

“I do not know. I had not really thought that far ahead yet.”

Howie was glancing through one catalog. “Here you go, this place is close by and it offers an orientation seminar about their program. They explain what classes they offer and help you decide if you want to take the professional courses or just come casual classes.”

“That sounds interesting. I will call them in the morning, if that is ok?” She looked up at him with questioning eyes.

“Of course it’s ok. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because it is your money,” she said shyly.

“I can think of nothing better to spend it on than your future,” he said softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She blushed and looked down, his touch sent shockwaves of sensations racing through her.

“If we were to be together,” she started then stopped, blushing again. “You would not mind if I had a career of my own? Or do you expect me to be home all the time and raise our children?”

It was Howie’s turn to blush, the thought of having children with Suheera made his heart race. “If you wanted to work and have children too, we would hire a nanny to help out. Many celebrities have at least one nanny, especially when they’re traveling.” He paused, not sure if he should say what was on his mind. He decided to risk it. “Fareed doesn’t want you to work, does he?”

“He said that my place would be at home, raising the children.”

“And you’re not sure that’s what you want…” He let the sentence hang.

Suheera shook her head. “My mother…she had no life of her own, all she ever did was take care of children. I do not know if I could do that, it is what killed her,” she admitted.

“You are your own woman, Suheera. In this house, you are half of a team. We would make decisions together; try to find a resolution that works for both of us. I would never dream of telling you what to do, no more than you would tell me what to do.”

Suheera laughed. “Women do not tell men what to do.”

“They do here,” Howie chuckled. “Many women feel it’s their God given right to tell men what to do.”

“Women in Iraq just have to be clever about it, make the men feel it was their idea,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Howie said. “I’m off to bed, sweetheart. I’ll be at the studio a lot this week so I don’t know how much I’ll be home. Let me know what you find out about that cooking school, ok?” He gave her a hug and headed for his own room, wishing she was coming with him but knowing that if it was meant to be it would happen eventually.

Suheera retired to her own room, and then laid in bed for a long time thinking about the men in her life. Fareed offered her stability, a life identical to the one she would’ve had back in Iraq. It was comforting to know what would be expected of her, that her days would be filled with meaningful tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and raising children. With Howie, her life would be an unknown – she could be in a foreign country one day and back home the next, she could be alone for weeks at a time or have Howie all to herself.

With thoughts swirling around inside her head, Suheera finally fell asleep. Her dreams were filled with handsome men and passionate kisses; she awoke feeling more overwhelmed than ever before.

Putting all her doubts aside, Suheera drove to the cooking school to check it out in person. She still didn’t like using the phone if she could do business in person instead, a leftover from her days living in a small village.

The people at the school made her feel welcome; overlooking the veil she wore to cover her face. Suheera found most people tolerant of her head scarf, most usually were just interested in why she wore it rather than thinking she was hiding something. She signed up for the orientation class to be held in little over a week, she was excited for something to look forward to.

Back home, she finished their laundry and put it away and then read for a while. She had a date with Fareed that night, he’d texted her that morning and asked to go out. Fareed had been like that from the beginning, never giving her much notice. She frowned; it suddenly occurred to her that he expected her to drop everything to go out with him, as if she was just waiting for him to call. Next time he did that she was going to tell him no, she didn’t want him to think she was at his beck and call.

Suheera took a long time getting dressed; she liked to look nice for Fareed. She dressed far more casually for date night then she did for mosque, Fareed didn’t seem to mind. She drove herself to their meeting spot, a busy parking lot not far from their destination. Fareed greeted her with a smile and helped her into his car, a sporty Porsche that he was quite proud of.

“Where are we going?” Suheera asked as Fareed drove past their usual restaurant.

“My mother invited you to dinner,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road.

“I wish you had asked me first. I am not ready to meet your family yet.” Suheera felt a slight tremble begin deep within her; she wasn’t prepared mentally for this step in their courtship. And she wasn’t dressed for it either. Her clothes were too casual and she wore a bit of makeup, something she wouldn’t normally do on a formal visit.

“I’m sorry, she didn’t give me any warning either,” he said with a smile. “It will be fine; they are going to love you.”

Suheera wished she felt as confident as he seemed. She wondered why Fareed had not postponed the visit, knowing that neither one of them was ready for it. It was a bit of a drive to their home, they lived on the outskirts of town in an area of large estates. At the end of a quiet street, Fareed pulled into a driveway and waited for the wrought iron gate to open. Although all of the houses on the street were gated, this was the only estate with several houses inside the fencing.

“Who lives here besides your parents?” she asked, awed by the grandeur of the homes.

“My two older brothers live in these houses,” he indicated the two residences to the right of the main house. Another home stood to the left of the main house, but the windows were dark and no cars sat in the driveway.

Fareed circled the fountain in front of the main house and parked. As they’d driven in, Suheera noticed the house had two wings off the main building, both of which looked to be newer construction. He didn’t lead her through the main door, instead whisking her to a side entrance.

“This is our wing of the house,” he explained. “My parents live in the other wing, we all eat together but we have our own living space separate from theirs.”

Suheera thought that was a wise thing, she knew how hard it was when multiple families lived together, she’d had to endure that in her own home in Iraq. “It is a very lovely home,” she said, noting the fine carpets, paintings, and heavy carved furniture.

On the ground level of the two story wing, he opened a door and invited her inside. “This would be our living space,” he said with a smile. He opened a door and Suheera peeked into an opulent bedroom. “This is the master bedroom and bath; there are also two smaller rooms that share a bathroom. We have our own living room but all the families share the kitchen in the main part of the house.”

“We would not have our own home?” Suheera asked, remembering the nice houses that lined the driveway. “One of the houses looks like it is not being used right now.”

Fareed shook his head. “My parents believe that newlyweds should live with their parents for a minimum of five years before they are allowed to have their own home. They want to make sure the children are started off properly – and that the parents are getting along.” He showed her the other two rooms in the suite. “And the empty house is my brother’s – it hasn’t been occupied since he died five years ago.”

Suheera frowned, she knew it was common for families to live together in Iraq but she thought that things would be different in America. “How many people live in the house?” she asked.

“My parents and my father’s parents live in the other wing. Temporarily, my mother’s two sisters and their husbands also have rooms. They just recently moved here from Iraq and are looking for homes nearby,” he explained. He guided her back into the hallway and they wandered slowly towards the center section of the house. “Mother doesn’t believe in having servants. As the youngest wife, you’d be expected to do the majority of the cooking for the families – and quite a bit of the cleaning as well.” He smiled to himself at Suheera’s frown.

“Who else lives in this wing?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. Fareed’s mother was sounding more like her own stepmother all the time, and it wasn’t something that made her happy.

“It’s pretty quiet around here right now, only my sister-in-law and her children live upstairs…” He was interrupted by the pounding of small feet on wood floors. Two young boys came running towards them, one hesitated but the other launched himself at Fareed.

“Daddy!” he yelled, demanding to be picked up. Suheera shot him an inquiring glance.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Suheera was quite taken aback; he hadn’t ever mentioned having a child. Before she could ask any questions, they were surrounded by people, all talking at once. Within minutes she had met his extended family, she’d be hard pressed to remember any of their names. Already Suheera was feeling overwhelmed, and she was used to being around many people in a small space, more than a dozen people had lived at her home.

“Would you please join us in the living room?” his mother asked, indicating a room off the main hallway. She and Fareed were shown into a formally decorated room which didn’t seem to get much use. Fareed’s father and grandparents followed them inside, his siblings were excluded.

“I am glad to finally meet you, Miss Karimi. My son has been remiss in bringing you to visit,” Fahada said, giving her son a glare.

“That is my fault,” Suheera said, standing up for Fareed. “I have been out of the country.”

“Visiting relatives in Iraq perhaps?” she asked.

Suheera swallowed hard. “No, I was in Japan. I have friends in the music business and I went with them on a promotional tour for their new album.”

“That must have been…interesting,” she said, her tone indicating she didn’t approve.

“I enjoy learning about new cultures. We toured several ancient buildings and temples, and visited a museum. Their food is excellent, have you ever tried Japanese cuisine?”

“No, we eat only halal.” The woman indicated she should sit, she settled in a chair opposite of her. Fareed remained standing, he looked like he was about to bolt out the door. “Fareed tells me you have no relatives living in the United States.”

“No, my family still lives in Iraq. I have only been here a short time.”

“Why would you come alone, all the way from Iraq? You were perhaps coming for a job?”

“I was granted political asylum.” Suheera felt her heart begin beating faster, the woman was steering the conversation into dangerous waters. “And I did not come alone; a friend escorted me and has been helping me learn western ways.”

“And why would a woman need to request political asylum?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“It is a complicated story…” she stuttered.

“We have the time to listen,” Fahada said.

Suheera swallowed hard. “I came into contact with several Americans who had been kidnapped in Europe. By helping them escape, I made enemies who wanted to kill me. One of the Americans offered to bring me to the United States so I agreed.”

Fahada seemed to accept the story. “I believe Fareed said your family comes from Rayat?” Suheera nodded. “It is a small world! My sister’s husband is from that village. He said he knows a Nafi Karimi, a man of some prominence. Is that perhaps your father?”

“Yes, my father comes from a long line of leaders in the province.” Suheera felt the sweat begin to form in her armpits, she hoped it didn’t show.

“He remembers Nafi had a daughter who would have been just about your age,” she said. Suheera said nothing, waiting to see where Fahada was going with this conversation. “He said the girl was cursed, men engaged to marry her ended up dying right before the wedding could take place. But her name was Hira, although that is very similar to Suheera,” she noted, frowning.

Suheera could not deny she was Nafi’s daughter; the woman had too much information. “No disrespect intended, but I was the victim of unfortunate circumstances.” She stopped for a moment and then continued, unsure of their reaction to her next statement. “I was a pawn in the political agenda of our drug lord, who wanted to remove my father and his allies from office. The elders also wanted him gone; their talk of curses was a way of getting back at him.”

“What does a teenage girl know of politics?” she snapped angrily, then immediately composed herself again. “You are, of course, still a virgin as you never married,” Fareed’s mother said. Suheera felt her face redden but she did not say a word.

“She says she is a virgin, and I believe her,” Fareed said, finally finding his voice. Suheera was startled that he would blatantly lie to his mother, but she was glad that he did – she did not know how she could explain her lapse in judgment. “And it is not like I am coming to the marriage as a virgin myself,” he added.

“My brother-in-law said that when he left the village, you were still living in your father’s house. I got to wondering how you came to be here, so I made some phone calls.” Suheera heard a note of accusation in her voice but she dared not look at the woman.

“Was that really necessary?” Fareed asked. “Suheera has told me her background and I accept it, and even though it is unconventional it doesn’t mean she is not acceptable to be my wife.”

“You have already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that your judgment in women is flawed, Fareed. You think with the wrong part of your body.” Fahada shot him a look which made him want to run for cover.

“You are right, Mother,” he said softly. Suheera was embarrassed by Fahada’s disrespectful tone of voice. Even her stepmother wouldn’t have talked to her brothers like that, not without incurring Father’s temper. She glanced at Fareed’s father; he seemed quite intimidated and uncomfortable. She knew then that Fahada ruled this marriage.

“My source told me that your father sold you to a drug lord. Is that true?” Suheera nodded miserably. “Who then sent you to service his two unmarried sons. In the eyes of Allah that makes you a whore. You even dress like a whore,” she added, disgust in her voice.

Suheera felt anger surge throughout her body. “I am not a whore! I was a servant to them, yes, but I never shared my bed.” She stood tall in defiance. “I wore the burkha they demanded I wear. They beat me, starved me, humiliated me in front of the villagers and they used me to entice a prisoner of war to talk. But I was still a virgin when I left their house!”

“Then you won’t mind letting my physician examine you.” Her tone of voice left no doubt that there would be no avoiding the exam, no matter what she said.

“Yes, I mind very much. Fareed has said my past doesn’t bother him. If you cannot accept me for who I am, then I do not want to be part of this family.” Suheera headed for the door, indignation shining in her dark eyes.

“Sit down! I do not think you have much say in this matter, Hira. It’s not like you have many choices, Fareed may well be your last chance to marry.” Suheera stopped in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. Fahada could make life very difficult for her at mosque, warning away any would be suitors. She hated to admit that Fahada was right - if she rejected Fareed there most likely would be no other chances at marriage with a man of good standing in the Muslim community. “My brother-in-law said that Nafi’s daughter was just about the ugliest girl anyone had ever seen. Fareed says he has not seen your face.”

She turned to face the woman, forcing herself to talk slowly and calmly. “There is no foundation to that rumor. No one in Rayat ever saw my face from the time I wore hijab,” she said, trying to keep the terror from her voice.

“I will not have ugly grandchildren,” the woman said. “Remove your veil.”

Suheera stiffened. “You have no right to demand that of me. It is my prerogative to keep my face veiled until the ceremony.” She looked to Fareed for support; he would not meet her eyes.

Fahada’s face darkened with anger. “If you want my son to continue courting you, you will remove your hijab immediately.”

Fareed started to protest but stopped at a hiss from his mother. She knew then that she would not get any support from Fareed, in any matter, if she joined this family. Her gut told her to leave, to refuse the woman’s request, but the religious training instilled in her since birth demanded that she honor her elder.

“As you wish,” she said stiffly, reaching up to remove all the pins that held the hijab and under scarves in place. With a yank she pulled them off and shook her hair free. It tumbled down her back in glossy brown waves. She stood with her head bowed for a long moment, then finally lifted her chin to gaze into the woman’s glaring face.

Fahada gasped, taken by complete surprise. She had been expecting a plain woman, not the ravishing beauty who stood before her. Her gaze darted to her son, his mouth was hanging open. She could see the lust fire in his eyes. Fahada circled her, taking in every detail as one might a horse they were thinking of purchasing.

“Do you wish me to disrobe as well, so you may judge whether my hips will be wide enough to bear your grandchildren?” she said, her voice bordering on the disrespectful.

Fareed’s grandmother cried out, shocked at the woman’s brazen words.

“I apologize,” she murmured, bowing her head in submission. Fareed’s family had every right to question her suitability as wife and mother. Her parents would be ashamed of her behavior.

“Your stepmother warned me you’re an insolent bitch, I see she was right.” Suheera stiffened but said nothing. “She also said she thought you would be able to bear many children. Your mother would have had many more if not for her untimely death while delivering you.”

“My mother was exhausted! There is no sense in having a child every other year. It is pure insanity and I do not plan on following in her footsteps.”

“We will see about that, Hira. It is not your decision on when to have children and how many.” Her tone of voice left no question that it wouldn’t be Fareed’s choice either.

Suheera glanced at Fareed; he still would not meet her eyes. The instinct to leave was even stronger now; she had to fight to control her temper. “My legal name is now Suheera. I would prefer that you call me by that name. The other reminds me of a time I’d like to forget.”

“It is best that you not forget the lessons your elders have taught you,” Fareed’s grandmother said, a look of disgust on her aged face.

“I came to America because I was told that women here have choices, that I can do as I please,” Suheera said, not taking her eyes from Fahada’s face.

“Whoever told you that was obviously not Muslim,” she said, her voice low and dangerously calm. “In our community, it is just like being in Iraq. You do as you are told, we will not tolerate disobedience.”

Suheera swallowed the harsh words that filled her mouth. She really wanted to tell the woman exactly what she thought of her but didn’t dare risk the woman’s wrath, she held too much influence in their community. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I am feeling ill and cannot stay for dinner.” She turned to Fareed. “Please take me home now.”

“I did not give you permission to leave,” Fahada said to Suheera’s back.

She turned slowly, controlling her temper with an iron will. “Perhaps you wish me to vomit on your immaculate carpets?” she questioned, raising an elegant eyebrow.

Fareed’s grandmother laughed. “You will have a hard time breaking that one,” she said to Fahada. “She is a strong willed woman.”

“Bah! She is nothing but a spoiled child,” Fahada said, dismissing her with an arrogant wave of her hand.

It was more than Suheera could bear. “How dare you! You know nothing of me!”

“I know what your stepmother told me, and what your neighbors said about you too – that is all I need to know,” Fahada said.

“Sometimes things are not what they appear to be,” Suheera said, a deadly calm to her voice.

Fahada looked her up and down, disdain on her face. “You are lucky I am even considering you for marriage, cursed as you are.” She turned to Fareed’s grandmother. “A little hard work is all it will take to break this one, she is soft. She does not know what real work is like.”

Suheera stiffened at the woman’s words. “You are wrong on that. My mother’s body was not even cold yet when my father remarried. My stepmother could not be bothered to raise me, so she took me from my crib and gave me to illiterate farmers. I worked the opium fields from the time I could walk until I was twelve years old, when my father finally noticed I was gone.” She looked Fahada in the eyes. “My father only cared about politics and the power it brought him. The only reason he brought me back home was because a political ally had a son who needed a wife and no one else would marry him. I was only a pawn in his political games.”

“That is just your opinion,” Fahada sneered.

“Actually, I know it for a fact. The drug lord who owned our village wanted father’s ally dead so he arranged for his sons to take care of it. They drove the car that killed my fiancé and his father, they bragged about it in front of me. There was no curse, it was all political.”

“That doesn’t explain the second groom that died right before your wedding.”

Suheera laughed. “He was 57 years old, a hundred pounds overweight, and smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day – he was a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“Your stepmother said you were a willful and disobedient child, resistant to the teachings of Allah, and required much discipline.”

“When my father brought me home, my stepmother took one look at me and told me Allah found me so ugly that I had to wear the hijab day and night to keep from offending him. Every day I was in that woman’s house, she beat me, worked me until exhaustion, and then locked me in my room at night, starving. I was never a child, and certainly never spoiled. I know how to work; I’ve been a servant since I was born.” She looked down her finely sculpted nose at the old woman. “I try to follow the words of Allah, to be kind, forgiving and respectful. You are none of those, and I will not allow the likes of you to treat me in such a disrespectful manner.”

With all the grace she could muster, Suheera showed herself out the front door and waited for Fareed to bring the car up. Once inside, Suheera could not stop the hot tears from running down her cheeks. The hijab lay forgotten in her lap.

“I don’t know what to say, Suheera, besides I’m sorry. I really had no idea my mother was planning on ambushing you.”

She thought he was sincere, but it still bothered her that he had not stood up for her. “It was not your fault, Fareed. She is just trying to protect you from marrying someone unsuitable to your elevated status.”

Fareed winced at the anger in her voice. “I have never cared about your past, Suheera, I mean it. My mother will just have to get used to the idea because I have no intention of giving you up.” He finished the thought in his head, ‘especially now that I’ve seen how beautiful you are.’ His loins stirred as he looked over at her, he’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted her.

Suheera didn’t like the possessive note to his voice, but decided that she was just imagining it. Fareed wisely kept quiet and soon her anger drained away. “Your mother criticized your choice in women. Did something happen with your first wife? And what about the little boy?” she added before he could speak.

“Since you shared your story, I will tell you mine,” he said with a sigh. “Mother was trying to find a suitable match for me, but no girl could meet her high standards, which is why I was still unmarried at 23. My brother Roshan told Mother about a girl named Mahveen. The girl was of a very good family, so she went to them to make the arrangements, but they were against the pairing.”

“Why? It seems like most families would want to align with yours as your mother has influence in the community.” Suheera knew her own stepmother would’ve eaten glass to get in good with a family like that.

“We found out she was already promised, but then the family suddenly agreed to the match as long as the wedding could be held right away. A month later, Mahveen announced she was pregnant, but soon after miscarried.”

“Oh Fareed, how horrible!” Suheera had a sneaky suspicion Mahveen was already pregnant when they married, but kept the thought to herself.

“But then Mahveen became pregnant a second time. There were some scares, but the doctor was confident that she would be able to carry it full term. Roshan’s wife Soraya was also expecting.”

“I am sure that made it easier for her, having her sister in law pregnant as well,” Suheera said softly.

Fareed only nodded. “I was at school, studying, when I got a call to come to the hospital. There had been a terrible car accident involving my wife and Roshan.” He paused for a long moment. “As he lay dying, Roshan admitted that he was Mahveen’s lover and was the father of her child.”

Suheera gasped, adultery was a terrible sin in their religion. “The doctors delivered the baby by C-section, but Mahveen didn’t survive. Paternity tests showed Roshan was the father, but to save our family from embarrassment Mother decided I should acknowledge the child as my own.”

“I am sorry, what a terrible thing to happen to you,” she said, unsure of what to say to him. She knew now why he had insisted on courting her instead of going right into marriage, as was usual in their religion. He’d been badly burned in his first marriage and didn’t want it to happen again.

Suheera looked out the window, finally noticing that Fareed wasn’t taking her back to her car. They had just entered a residential area in the hills above Malibu, an area not too far from where Howie lived. The houses were huge but built closely together on the hillside. Fareed pulled into a driveway and stopped, then came around and opened the car door.

“Where are we?” Suheera asked.

“This is a friend’s house that I designed. I wanted you to see it.” He rang the doorbell; a young woman answered the door and invited them inside. “Come on inside. He’s out of town, he won’t mind if we’re here. This is his wife.”

Suheera hesitated, but Fareed had never given her any reason to not trust him, so she went inside. As he gave her a tour of the house, Suheera was dazzled. The furnishings were all modern, none of that heavy carved wood that his mother seemed to adore. They ended up in the master bedroom, the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooked the Pacific Ocean far below.

“What an amazing view!” she exclaimed.

Fareed came to stand next to her. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “May I still call you, Suheera?”

“I do not know...” She twisted the hijab still clutched in her hands; confusion, anger and anxiety muddling her thoughts. “There is no way I could live in the same house as your mother. We would have to live somewhere else, in our own place, where she would not be part of our lives every moment of the day.”

Fareed smiled to him, the evening was going as planned. “It would only be for a couple of years, and then we would have our own house,” he said softly. “Mother really isn’t that bad. You could always stay in our rooms to get away from her.”

Suheera hated to think that she’d be forced into isolation just to get away from his overbearing mother. “I do not know if I could do that,” she admitted. She’d been alone her entire life; she couldn’t stand the thought of more years without family around her.

“I know Mother wants us to marry, I could see it in her eyes,” he said softly. “She’s not going to let you marry anyone else; you know that now, don’t you? Once she saw your face it was all over, she won’t let any other man have you.”

Suheera knew he was right, she’d seen the look of greed on the woman’s face. There would be no other man for her, Fahada would see to it. If she wanted to marry a Muslim, it would have to be Fareed – and his mother came along with the package. She shuddered at the thought of spending the next five years living in the same house.

“But you’ll have the children to keep you company,” he said gently. “We could have two or even three by the time we move to the other house. Then we’ll have room for three or four more…” He was pleased to see the panicked look that crossed her face.

“But what if…” Suheera suddenly felt claustrophobic, her heart pounded in her chest.

“Shh, we’ll talk about that later. Although we can’t wait too long, I know Mother will be pressing us to marry soon.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I’d better get you back to your car. You don’t want to still have dinner, do you?” he asked, checking the time on his wrist watch as he led her back downstairs to the front entryway.

“Fareed, I do not know if I…”

He suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her. With gentle fingers he stroked her face and hair, deepening the kiss until Suheera was breathless. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, pressing his hips against her body. She could feel his desire, hard and urgent. She pushed him away, trembling.
She was totally unprepared for this, she thought him a gentleman. They had kissed before, but they were never passionate or demanding – and he’d never touched her body the way he was doing now.

“Fareed, stop! We cannot do this until after we are married, you know that!” She struggled to get away from him but he just tightened his grip on her.

“Don’t say no, Suheera. You’re even more beautiful than Mahveen! I want you to be mine and mine alone,” he growled. He pushed her against the wall, his mouth insistent. The thin silk of her tunic was no match for his hands, it ripped easily when he grabbed the neckline and yanked it hard. Suheera gasped and tried to push him away but he was much stronger than her.

“Please do not do this, Fareed,” she begged as he shoved her pants down her legs, leaving her only in her underwear. She whimpered, sending a prayer to Allah to save her from this humiliating act.

He picked her up and carried her to the couch and threw her down. She tried to rise but he slapped her, his ring slashing her cheek. Pushing her roughly back onto the couch, he warned her not to move. Suheera looked around in desperation, there was nowhere for her to run, no one to help her. With an insolent smile, Fareed disrobed quickly and then finished stripping her.

“Allah would not approve of this,” she cried, hoping to talk some sense into him. “You condemn yourself to hell…”

“I am already damned, Suheera. There is no redemption for me, so I might as well enjoy myself now. And don’t bother calling out for help, the woman you saw earlier works for me.”

Suheera began to cry, she’d been so stupid to trust him. He laid down on her, shoved her legs apart and entered her none too gently. With total disregard for her welfare, he would bring himself to the edge of pleasure, only to back off after checking the time. Finally, with one last glance at his watch, he climaxed. Suheera could only lay there, numb and in shock.

He looked down at her and laughed, the sound harsh in her ears. “Soon you’ll be begging me to take you…” He pulled his pants and shirt back on, but left his shirt unbuttoned. She heard the front door open, heard voices calling out to Fareed. “No Suheera, I told you we cannot! It would not be right, please, put your clothes back on…”

“What is going on here?” his mother asked, her eyes wide. The imam stood next to her, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” he said, humiliation coloring his face a deep red. “She tried to seduce me once she realized you weren’t going to let me marry her. She thought she could convince me to marry her anyway.”

Suheera could not believe her ears, his words were all lies. “That is not true!” she cried out. “He raped me.”

“You had better reconsider your claim, Suheera, you do not have four male witnesses,” the imam said. “If you accuse him without witness, you admit your own sin of adultery.”

Suheera gasped. Back in Iraq, the punishment for adultery was 100 lashes – she didn’t know if the same was true here or not.

Fahada turned to the imam. “See! I told you the woman was a prostitute but you assured me she was not!”

The imam led Fareed a few feet away, putting some distance between himself and the naked woman on the couch. Suheera just sat there, too much in shock to even try to cover herself. “I cannot in good conscience marry the two of you, not after this,” he said. “She obviously lied to me about her background. No respectable woman would allow herself to be alone with a man in his house…”

Fahada picked up Suheera’s clothes and threw them at her. “Get dressed!” she hissed and turned away.

Slowly Suheera fumbled her way back into her garments. The tunic was torn down the front but she was able to secure it with several of her hijab pins.

“She will not find a welcome at the mosque from now on,” Fahada said loud enough for Suheera to hear clearly. “Everyone will know her for the whore that she is.” She took the imam’s arm and led him from the house.

“How could you?” Suheera asked him when they were alone again. “I trusted you!” Tears ran unheeded down her face; they did not move Fareed in the least.

“No Muslim in LA will ever marry you, Suheera. Your reputation is ruined for good, my mother will see to that.” He casually buttoned his shirt back up. “But I’ll let you stay here. You could work for me, make a good living. Men will pay a lot of money to sleep with you.” He reached out to caress her cheek.

Anger flared in her eyes, Fareed stumbled backward as she shoved him away. “I will not be a man’s possession ever again,” she said. Grabbing her purse from the table in the hallway, she ran out into the night.

“That didn’t go quite as I had planned,” he said softly to himself. “But I’ll still get her.” He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine.

Suheera ran blindly down the street, the rough asphalt bit into her bare feet. It took her two hours to walk the four miles home, even using the GPS program on her cell phone. Every time she started crying she’d have to stop and try to compose herself. She let herself into the house, anxious to climb into bed and try to sort out everything that had happened this evening.

“Hey, there you are.” Howie’s soft voice startled her. “I was wondering where you were.”

“I thought you were recording tonight,” she said, trying to hurry past him.

“We were, but the power went out in the studio and they couldn’t get it back on.” He noticed her bare feet, the hijab hanging from her hand, her torn clothing, and then her blood stained face. “Are you ok? What happened?” Panic made his heart begin to beat faster.

“I am fine.” She headed for her room but then stopped. “No, I am not fine. Something happened and I am…I am so confused, Howie!”

He led her into the living room, settled her on the couch and then sat down next to her, holding her hand. “Were you with Fareed tonight?” he asked, Suheera nodded. “Did he do this to you?” He had to fight to keep his voice calm.

The story poured out of her, she was helpless to stop the words. Anger tightened his features when Suheera told him of her confrontation with Fahada, and her accusations. But when he heard what Fareed had done to her, he wanted to commit murder. He picked up his cell phone to call the police but Suheera stopped him, tears running down her face.

“You cannot report this!” she cried. “I do not have the proper witnesses; I will get lashes in front of everyone!

“This is not Iraq. We have laws against rape and ways to prove it without witnesses,” he said. “He raped you, he should be arrested. Don’t let him get away with this, Suheera,” he pleaded.

“I will be humiliated in front of the entire mosque! Fahada and the imam will tell everyone that I am a whore! The police will never believe me, it is his word against mine. He will say I lay with him willingly.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried, supporting her while she finally let go of all the emotions she’d been holding inside. He was torn between wanting revenge on Fareed and protecting Suheera. When the doorbell rang, Howie reluctantly left her in the living room alone while he went to answer it. A tall dark man stood in the doorway.

“I’d like to speak with Suheera,” he said.

Howie knew immediately that this was Fareed. “Haven’t you hurt her enough tonight? You’re damn lucky she wouldn’t let me call the police,” he said angrily, and tried to shut the door but the man put his arm out and caught it.

“Please, Howard, I need to apologize to her.”

“I think you and your mother have said, and done, more than enough already, you fucking bastard!” He tried again to shut the door but Fareed was stronger.

“How much do you want?” Fareed asked. “I’ll give you twice what you paid for her.”

Howie was stunned that the man was actually offering to buy Suheera from him. “You don’t have enough money, Fareed.” Once again he tried to close the door but was prevented from doing so.

“No, I mean it. What would it take?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Howie saw Suheera come down the hallway. She stopped before coming into the foyer, Fareed could not see her. “I’ve put a lot of time, effort and money into bringing her to the States. I expect to get a decent return on my money. I might consider two fifty…” He let the sentence hang. He glanced quickly at Suheera and winked to let her know he wasn’t serious.

“Is that all?” he asked. “Two hundred and fifty dollars? You must not think much of her.”

Howie laughed. “Actually, I think she’s quite priceless. You misunderstood - I meant two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

It was Fareed’s turn to be shocked, the amount was outrageous. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to get his hands on that kind of cash. But no woman was worth that, not even Suheera. “Perhaps I could trade you – I’ll design a house for you, whatever you want…” He saw his chance of getting Suheera slipping away.

“Maybe in Iraq you buy and sell women like they are cattle, but not here. Suheera is not for sale, at any price! How could you even believe that I would…” Suheera pushed her way in front of Howie, cutting him off.

“Fareed, I do not want to see you again. Please do not call me.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened, Suheera, I lost my head. Please, give me another chance.” Suheera hated to hear a grown man whine and beg.

“I realized tonight, Fareed, that I made a huge mistake. I cannot live in a world like the one I left behind in Iraq. I will not live with a tyrant, telling me what I can and cannot do.”

“I’ll protect you from her, I swear.” There was desperation in his face. Suheera thought it funny that he assumed she spoke of his mother and not him. “We may have to live with my parents until I can find another place…”

“What’s wrong with your house in Malibu?” Howie asked. “Or doesn’t she know about that?”

Suheera turned wide eyes on Fareed. Now that she thought about it, his suite at his mother’s house hadn’t looked lived in; there were no personal items or clothing lying around. “That was your house? You led me to believe you lived at your mother’s home.”

“He’s being very modest, Suheera,” Howie said. “He actually designed it himself – and it was featured in Southern California Architecture magazine just last year. Seems it’s a very hip place to party too, a friend of mine has been to many parties there. He said Fareed’s girls are exotic and very friendly…” Suheera gasped as she remembered what he had said to her earlier. She suddenly realized that Fareed had wanted to prostitute her, not to marry her.

Fareed’s face darkened in anger. “You should mind your own business, Howard. This is between me and Suheera.”

“Until she says otherwise, she is my responsibility. I brought her into the US and vouched for her, and swore that I would take care of her. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t investigate someone she’s dating? You could be a convicted felon for all she knows.” Fareed started and the color drained from his face. He realized Howie knew more than he was saying.

“And what does she know of you? You are a musician who travels the world, sleeping with any woman who asks. I’ve read all kinds of nasty things about you.” There was a sneer on his handsome face.

Howie laughed. “Like everything you read in the tabloids is the truth, right? Suheera’s been on tour with me, she knows what goes on. I don’t have any worries about that.”

Fareed turned to Suheera and reached for her hands. She backed away, angering him. “I’m offering you redemption, Suheera. If you go forward with your relationship with this unbeliever, you will be considered an adulterer in the eyes of Allah.” His voice was harsh and condescending. “You know you cannot marry him and remain a Muslim, it is not allowed. So make your choice, Suheera. Islam or this man – is he worth throwing away your life?”

Suheera snorted. “The Prophet says that a woman is encouraged to judge whether the man is worthy of her respect and love, and if he is capable of providing her happiness in life.” She took a deep breath. “You are not worthy of my respect and love. If loving Howie means I can no longer be Muslim, then I renounce Islam!”

Fareed was startled; he hadn’t expected that of Suheera. He realized then that he’d lost, that Suheera wouldn’t give him a second chance. His desperation turned to anger. “You’re right to renounce Islam. No Muslim in his right mind would ever have anything to do with you, whore! Howie bought you as a prostitute and that’s all you’ll ever be! And my family will make sure that everyone at mosque knows just what you are.”

Howie felt Suheera tense; he put a hand on her arm to calm her. “Do not forget, Fareed, that I know your family’s dirty laundry.”

“I will not make this offer again, Suheera. Come with me, we’ll live in my Malibu house and you can remain a faithful Muslim. Surely you do not want to walk away from your upbringing, from everything that you know.”

“Live with you as your wife or work as one of your prostitutes?” Howie asked, noticing that Fareed hadn’t mentioned marrying her in his offer.

Fareed lunged at him but Suheera jumped between them. “I will not live with you either way, Fareed. And if I hear even one word about me at mosque, everyone will know Mahveen and Roshan for the adulterers that they were!”

“Everything I told you was a lie, Suheera, to get you to feel sorry for me. No one would believe you anyway, my family’s reputation is solid and always will be.” As Fareed turned to leave, Suheera saw his face was dark with anger.

“I am sorry, Fareed, I really did like you – before tonight. But if I had wanted to live in misery for the rest of my life I would have stayed in Iraq,” she called to his retreating back.

Howie shut the door firmly and led her back to the living room. “Are you ok?” Howie asked softly.

“I thought Fareed was the perfect match for me, Howie.”

“But he wasn’t what you thought he was?”

“Oh he is exactly what I expected, but perhaps I am not the person I used to be.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking. “A year ago I would have been ecstatic to have someone like Fareed interested in me. I never thought I would be able to marry anyone, let alone marry someone handsome and rich and from such an influential family. I would not have cared that his mother ran his life, it is what I was used to anyway.”

“But your life has changed a lot in the last year.” He gently stroked her hair, loving the silken feel of it beneath his fingers.

“He wanted to possess me, like I am some kind of prize. I am tired of being the game piece; I want to be the one in control for a change.”

“You are, sweetheart. You can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to now. There’s no one to tell you what to do.”

“Not even you?” Her eyes were wide and filled with tears.

“Especially not me,” Howie said with a laugh. “Whatever you want to do, I am behind you 100%.”

“I want you to make love to me,” she said solemnly. “I realize now that I should have married you as soon as we landed in America. We were meant to be together and I wasted so much time!”

He reached out and stroked her face with gentle fingers. “It wasn’t a waste of time, my love. You needed to discover who you are inside, find out what your heart truly desired.”

“I desire you,” she said softly.

“And I you, Suheera.” He gently pushed her away. “But we can’t make love, not yet.”

“But why?” she said, tears threatening to flow down her face again. “You do not want me now because Fareed raped me.”

“That’s not it at all, sweetheart. I want to kill the bastard for what he did to you!” He pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly while he tried to explain. “Because I love you, I won’t dishonor you or your religion. I don’t want you to renounce Islam. Perhaps we can find a way around it, so we can marry and you can stay a Muslim.”

“What if I want to convert to your religion?” she asked softly.

“If that is what you truly wish, then we can explore that too. But I want us to talk to an imam before any decision is made, ok?” She nodded. “But there is something we need to do first.” Howie picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.
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