I need him to understand what he’s done. Principles, however, were useless when all I wanted was his arms around me, to bury my face in his neck and breathe his scent. The large man was close enough to touch, but he ignored me, and I in turn was forced to pretend to ignore him.
Lucas, on the other hand, seemed quite chipper for a man who’d stayed awake for most of the trip. I might have been annoyed at his constant jabbering except the impromptu tour he gave of the city was fascinating. He seemed to know a lot about the city and country, which made me wonder how often he’d been to the opulent area.
We were high enough to see the full outline of the manmade land extensions. I remembered hearing about the palms, but my breath caught as I saw a series of smaller islands only a few miles down the shoreline. They were arranged in a flower pattern, with a “stem” leading to the mainland. While smaller than the palm islands, the flower seemed almost delicate, and as we drew closer I saw each individual island was actually very large. I counted at least twelve small “petals” surrounding a larger central island, and as we veered toward it I noticed a large structure. “Is that our destination?”
Lucas nodded. “The Almasi Hotel,” he said as we moved in closer. “The latest addition to an already flamboyant city.”
The hotel wasn’t as tall as some I’d seen, maybe twenty or so stories. The structure had a thoroughly modern appeal, yet hearkened back to an older Arabian style. A huge glass dome dominated the structure, the windows gleaming like diamonds in the Arabian sun. A flat pad spread out across the top of the main tower, a helipad for our transportation. Our helicopter made its landing atop the building, powering down the engines and rotors.
Lucas disembarked first, followed swiftly by Jeremiah. I unbuckled the belt and found, to my chagrin, two separate hands held out to help me down. Jeremiah and Lucas both looked at me expectantly, and I hesitated. You have got to be kidding me. I looked between the two men, then grabbed the handrail beside the door and lowered myself to the helipad. I smoothed out my clothes, deliberately not looking at either man.
On the stairs across from us, a small retinue of people appeared as the large blades overhead finally stopped. Lucas turned toward the man and I followed slowly, Jeremiah bringing up the rear. The stranger leading the small group spread his arms as he saw Lucas. “Ah, Loki my friend, it has been a long time.”
“Rashid,” Lucas said, his lips folding back into another smile. Neither man put out their hand in greeting, which I found odd. Lucas turned and gestured grandly toward us. “May I introduce my brother Jeremiah, and Miss Lucy Delacourt.”
“Ah, so this is the brother I’ve heard so much about.” Rashid stepped forward and held out to Jeremiah in greeting. “I have wished to meet you for some time. Business does not bring you to our shores often enough.”
Jeremiah inclined his head, his face a blank mask, but didn’t reply. Rashid turned to me, smiling big. “Ah, Ms. Delacourt,” he said grandly, inclining his head. “A woman like you would have garnered many camels from my ancestors.”
The words sounded like something he told every woman, flattery without anything behind it. Or perhaps that was my own bias from being dismissed so quickly. I sensed a faint bit of hostility toward me; his gaze was quick to dismiss me, nor did he offer me his hand, and I struggled not to be offended. “Welcome to the Almasi Hotel, the jewel of Arabia. Gentlemen, let’s retire inside and talk. My sister Amyrah will help your woman to the rooms.”
I bristled at the phrase, then again when neither Lucas nor Jeremiah spoke up in my defense. A woman dressed all in black, a white scarf carefully covering her hair, stepped shyly forward. She had an earnest expression on her face and was studying me like I was a rare and beautiful gem, which was a bit disconcerting. “Hi,” I ventured weakly.
The girl’s face lit up, and she seemed to remember herself. “I am Amyrah,” she said softly, holding her hand out. Her handshake was limp but she seemed pleased with the contact, and I made a mental note to read up more on Arabian customs. “May I show you to your rooms?”
She sounded very formal, but something told me she was near bursting to ask questions. She spoke English very well but her garb was so foreign to me; the scarf covered all of her hair and her clothing was more like billowing robes, robbing her of any feminine shape. We walked silently down toward the elevator, the men having already disappeared, and I struggled with what to say. Finally, I gave in to my curiosity. “What do you call the scarf on your head?”
Amyrah looked confused for a moment, putting a hand atop her head, then she smiled. “You are American,” she said, nodding, as if that explained my obvious lack of knowledge. “This is my hijab.”
“And the rest of your clothes?” I asked, vaguely gesturing to the dark robes shrouding her figure.
Her smile widened. “They are my clothes.”
There was no guile in her response, nor did she seem to be making fun of me. I laughed at my own ignorance, but the questions seemed to break the ice. “I must ask,” Amyrah said as we boarded the elevator. “Have you been to Hollywood?”
Amyrah was fascinated by American culture, and I quickly realized the Muslim girl hadn’t seen much of the world in her short life. She seemed excited when I told her I’d lived and worked in New York City, asking me questions ranging from the Statue of Liberty to the New York subway system. I found it impossible to tell how old she was. Sometimes, she seemed like any other well-educated young college-aged woman I’d met, and other times her questions were as naïve as a child. One thing was clear however, she’d led a very sheltered existence but sincerely wanted to see more of the world.
“Does your brother own this hotel?”
Amyrah shook her head. “He is one of the major investors and helped build it, but is not the primary owner.” She opened a door, and then motioned for me to go inside. “These are your rooms.”
Rooms? I slipped through the door then stopped and stared around me. “Wow,” I said, a quick exhalation that didn’t at all cover what I was seeing. I turned back to Amyrah. “This is all mine?” At her nod, I turned back and stared around me in wonder.
Less than a month ago, I had been lucky enough to stay in the Ritz Carlton Paris, one of the richest hotels in the world. There, every decoration, every inch of floor space, had been old-world decadence. Ceiling to floor, the rooms and various hotel sections had been as ostentatious, as opulent as a person could imagine. No penny had been spared, no section left ungilded; the hotel had screamed its wealth and prestige, and I had loved every inch.