“Did you enjoy the show?” Vanessa tried in stilted French. The lady set her bag down, pausing before responding in English.

  “I did. And I could tell you did too.”

  Vanessa blushed. “I’m a freak for fashion, what can I say?”

  The lady sent her a knowing smile as she flagged down a bartender. “What are you drinking? I’ll have the same.” The soft accents of her vowel told Vanessa that English wasn’t her first language

  “Oh, this is just cranberry juice.” She gestured at her belly, which still betrayed nothing. “I’m pregnant, actually.”

  “Ah!” The lady’s eyes lit up. “How delightful. Congratulations. Are you excited?”

  “Very,” Vanessa admitted, feeling the truth of her words down to her bones. “It’s early yet, so there’s a lot more to go. But my husband and I are thrilled.”

  “Children are a joy,” the lady said, reaching over to pat Vanessa’s hand. “And sometimes a curse. But mostly a joy.”

  Vanessa laughed. “Well, in the fashion world, they seem like more of a curse. There are no high-end maternity lines. At least none that I’ve seen.”

  The woman clucked her tongue. “In this, you’re correct. What is an expectant mother to do?”

  “Wear a bedsheet, I suppose,” Vanessa cracked.

  “Back in my day, when my children were younger, even less attention was paid to expectant women.” The woman sighed, suddenly full of melancholy. The bartender arrived, and she placed her order for a vodka cranberry.

  “We will both be drinking cranberry, at least,” the lady said with a twinkle in her eye. “What is your name?”

  “I’m Vanessa. And you?”

  “Marie.” The way she pronounced her name almost sounded French, but it had a distinct lilt. “I’m Swiss. But I come here religiously for the fashion events.”

  “This is my first time,” Vanessa admitted, sipping on her juice. “And it’s so much more amazing than I could have imagined. I’m just hesitant to buy anything because I know it won’t fit in a month.”

  Marie tutted, receiving her drink from the bartender with a toothy smile.

  “Honestly, all it would take is for the right person to get a designer’s ear about maternity clothing,” Vanessa said, some of the thoughts that had been swirling in her head during the fashion show finally making the leap to her lips. “Almost every woman has been in this boat, I’d imagine. Every woman deserves to look fashionable.”

  Marie nodded. “The numbers must be staggering.”

  “So why can’t we get the maternity lines going? You know, I see the maternity line of my dreams. I can see it so clearly.” Vanessa squinted as she prepared herself to launch into some of these unspoken ideas that had been percolating over the past few weeks. “All the designs are based on the current trends, the most popular color palettes. When taupe is in Paris, taupe is in the maternity line. And the changes are made with mothers in mind, so they can still participate. Especially when fashion and looking good is their life.”

  Marie nodded, her sharp green gaze narrowed in on Vanessa.

  “There’s no reason working, expectant mothers should have to give up on fashion if this has been their entire life.” Right there—that was the crux of her issue. The impending swelling belly made her hesitant to buy anything, much less a highly fashionable piece of clothing that would simply not fit in three weeks’ time, and maybe never again. But Vanessa was accustomed to participating in the trends. She prioritized looking good. Not necessarily at the level that Amad was accustomed to, but in her own way, she made fashion a priority.

  “So what do you see for the timelines of these pieces?” Marie asked.

  “They’d be concurrent with the Paris trends,” Vanessa said. “Modified to fit the consumer market, based on country as well. Because of course, this maternity line won’t be restricted to simply France. I’m seeing all of Europe, Amatbah, the United States…”

  “Amatbah has excellent fashion right now,” Marie remarked before sipping at her drink.

  Vanessa’s heart rate picked up. She felt like she was teetering on the precipice of something, but she didn’t know what.

  “It does. And maternity fashion will be the next thing to come out of it,” Vanessa said, glancing at Marie, half suspecting the older woman would catch her fib. “This exact line that I’m talking about.”

  Marie’s brow arched so high it practically flew off her face. “Really? Can you send me some samples?”

  And there it was—the trickle of triumph, the unraveling of a future prospect. Vanessa’s heart raced. She didn’t know who Marie was or who she was affiliated with, but this could be a big win for Calla’s line. One tiny foot inside the door. Somewhere.

  Vanessa licked her lips, furtively glancing around the room for Amad. He was nowhere to be seen. He might have followed a prospect out into the smoking lounge or headed to the bathroom. Whatever the reason, she was on her own now.

  “Yeah,” Vanessa said, trying to sound casual, as if she wasn’t swimming way too deep. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to right away, because…” She gestured around them, leaving Marie’s imagination to fill in the blanks. “But yes. I’d love to. And I really think you’ll love what we’ve come up with. I’m extremely passionate about fashionable clothing and even more so now that I’m a mother-to-be.”

  Marie dug around in her handbag for a moment while Vanessa licked dry lips. Come on, Amad. Where are you? Even though she was just freeballing this, she was pretty sure her promise could be backed up. Based on her conversations with Calla, it only took a few days to take a design from conception to prototype, if there was a lot of focus. And the urgency of something like this should provide plenty of focus for Calla’s young line.

  “Oh, lovely,” Vanessa murmured once Marie handed off her card.

  “Email me once you have the samples ready,” Marie said, her lips quirking up in a smile. “I’m eager to see what a passionate fashionista like yourself has cooked up.”

  Vanessa could only grin as Marie downed her drink and said her goodbye. She sat in a stunned cloud of anxiety and accomplishment for a few moments. Then Amad arrived.

  “These people are harder to break than any business people I’ve met before,” he said with a huff. He slid onto the stool next to her. “Do you need another drink, babe?” He signaled for the bartender. “Cranberry, right?”

  She fingered the business card in her lap, nodding. She should tell Amad about the conversation she just had.

  “You know who I passed out in the lobby? Marie Frechard.” He tutted, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to land an appointment with her for weeks. I swear, she’ll be the key to the fashion line.”

  Marie Frechard. Vanessa’s heart rate picked up again. Could it be the same Marie as the one who had just requested her designs? Vanessa stuffed the business card into her handbag on her lap.

  “Who’s Marie?”

  “The CEO of the hugest chain of department stores in Europe,” Amad said. “Le Suiz. Total game changer. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with that place for weeks, but…” He trailed off, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

  Vanessa gnawed on her bottom lip. It probably wasn’t the same Marie…but if it was? Then Vanessa had a huge surprise waiting for Amad.

  Because that’s what she needed to do—wait until the details were in place before she told Amad. She could only imagine how much stress it would relieve for him to know that they had their in. But she wanted to be sure that the in was real. Because it would be an even bigger downer if her inroads turned out to be roadblocked.

  So she’d wait. She’d talk with Calla first, get an idea about the designs, and reach out to Marie herself.

  That way, she’d be sure of the size of the surprise she had waiting for Amad.

  And if all went well, this would be the most incredible way to pay him back for everything. Excitement shivered through her, and she tipped her head up to Amad to receive his kiss.

  11

  Amad insisted on stopping by Dubai on their way home from Paris, which was a concept so absurd to Vanessa that it made her laugh. The sleek, stylish towers crowded together on the Persian Gulf were awe-inspiring as their private jet descended toward the airport. And once they were out in the thick of things, moving through traffic in their sleek black car, Vanessa finally felt like Amad’s wealth was slightly more commonplace.

  Their first and only stop on this one-night layover was the shopping center. Amad had raved about it so much for having all the finest stores and most incredible diversity of foods that Vanessa had to see it for herself. It even had bungee jumping. Indoors.

  Vanessa updated her Facebook status about their quick stop in Dubai as soon as the plane landed. It wasn’t even ten minutes before a message came in. From her mother. With approximately thirteen exclamation remarks at the end: Where are you? I need to see you!

  This would be way too easy to deflect. Thank God she was half the world away from her mother right now. She tapped out a quick response: “In Dubai, Mom. Like the status said.”

  “Yeah, I got that, honey. What part? I’m here too!”

  The realization slid cold and unsavory through Vanessa’s body. She stared at the phone for so long that Amad must have grown worried, because he nudged her with his elbow.

  “You okay?”

  She sucked in a breath, nodding. “My mom is here. She wants to see me.”

  Amad blinked. “In Dubai?”

  Vanessa nodded, staring at the words on the screen. She could only imagine the variety of reasons that would have brought her mom here, and they all had to do with some sort of rich boyfriend who didn’t mind her gold-digging.

  And now here Vanessa was too. Gold-digging in her own way. Her stomach turned.

  “Do you want to see her?” Amad asked, his voice softening.

  “I—” Her phone vibrated with another message.

  “Honey, this is so exciting! We can’t travel halfway around the world without seeing each other. You’re my only daughter, you know.”

  The message was a spear to the heart, the same spear she used anytime Vanessa showed resistance or hesitation. You’re my only daughter, you know. Because Vanessa was supposed to have had a big brother. He’d died in the early weeks of infancy. And somehow, that fact that had been used against Vanessa her entire life in subtle ways.

  And it always worked.

  “We should.” Vanessa exhaled slowly as she typed out her response. To Amad, she said, “Then she can meet you, and we’ll break the pregnancy news. She saw our wedding pictures on Facebook, so that cat is out of the bag.”

  “Cat is out of the bag,” Amad murmured. “English still surprises me once in a while. What a funny saying.”

  Vanessa gnawed on her bottom lip as they drew nearer to the mall. She’d told her mother to meet them there—a safe, neutral, busy meeting place if there ever was one—and Amad had promised to look for her signal that it was time to go if things got uncomfortable. They had some time to kill before her mother arrived, so Amad insisted on window shopping.

  They strolled hand in hand through the mall, pausing in front of glittering, gaudy displays of heels and elegant dresses, poking their fingers against the glass at funny mannequins posed in the most unreasonably chic positions.

  When they came to a children’s store, Amad insisted they go inside. Vanessa agreed, and they perused the bright, clean space. Everything was overpriced, to her eyes at least, but when she came upon an impossibly plush elephant near the back, it was hard to walk away.

  “He’s so cute,” Amad murmured into her ear as she stroked it.

  “Maybe he can be our little baby’s special thing,” she said, glancing down at her belly. “What do you think, peanut?” She held the elephant to her nearly-non-existent belly, waiting for a response. “Do you like the elephant?”

  “I think he said yes,” Amad said, hugging her from behind.

  She tipped her head back to look at Amad, finding tenderness and a lot more waiting in his gaze. Her throat tightened.

  “Let’s get the elephant,” she whispered, tightening her arms around the squishy animal. “It’ll be our first gift to the little one.”

  Amad squeezed her shoulder as they wandered back through the store, heading for the cash register. Amad winked at her as he paid, and the employee wrapped the elephant in a shimmery tissue paper before handing it over in a large bag.

  “Let’s name her Eleanor,” Vanessa whispered.

  “Our baby?”

  “No. The elephant.”

  Amad grinned. “Good. Because we’re having a boy. You know that, right?”

  “I was unaware,” Vanessa admitted, “But I’m glad that you’re so skilled at divining our baby’s sex! We should tell the gynecologist immediately.”

  “Just wait and see.” Amad brought her hand to his lips.

  They drifted through the mall until they made their way to the food court, which was more of a high-class multi-level market than typical mall food court. Vanessa lingered near a thicket of palms, keeping an eye out for her mom, when hands grabbed the sides of her arms from behind.

  “Vanessy!”

  The telltale nickname could only mean one thing. Mom had arrived.

  She turned, forcing a bright smile. “Mooom. It’s you!”

  Her platinum-blonde mother wrapped her in a big hug, but it didn’t last long. She stepped back, gesturing behind her, bracelets and bangles clanking. “Honey, meet Gerardo. We’ve been traveling the Middle East for a couple weeks. We’re heading to London next, and then back to Vegas. He’s a hotelier.”

  Vanessa offered her hand to the slick-haired man at her mother’s side. He looked mostly disinterested, totally boring, and a little bloated—typical of her mom’s boyfriends. She picked the ones with the most money and least personality.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Vanessa said with a small smile. “And I’d like to introduce you two to—”

  “Oh, is this him?” Her mother clapped her hands. “What a stud. You are positively a stud,” she cooed.

  Amad stepped forward to offer his hand to both her mother and Gerardo. He had his winning business smile pasted on—the one that told her, and everyone around him, that he could handle this situation with ease.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Amad. Your new son-in-law.”

  Vanessa’s mother clapped her hands over her mouth, feigning intense emotion. Vanessa fought the urge to roll her eyes.

  “I’ve been waiting to have another son my entire life,” she said, dabbing the corners of her heavily outlined eyes. “And God could not have sent me a more handsome, more distinguished son-in-law, even if I begged for years.”

  “We have some news,” Vanessa said, already feeling the itch to end this reunion. Time to get the news out and start gracefully exiting. She glanced at Amad, who grabbed her hand for support. “We’re expecting a baby.”

  Vanessa’s mother shrieked so loudly it echoed through the five-story atrium ceiling. A few people sent quizzical looks their way.

  “You. Are. Kidding me,” she said, grabbing Amad’s wrist.

  “This is very much not a joke,” Vanessa said, crossing her arms. The display of excitement was easy to get caught up in, but only she knew how much of it was for show. Once the people cleared and the onlookers were gone, all pretense of care would disappear. This is how things always went with her. By now, it was just a tired charade.

  “I am going to be a grandmother,” her mother declared to Gerardo. She tittered with laughter and then leaned in to say something quietly to him. He hefted with appreciation. Vanessa didn’t even want to know what she’d said under her breath.

  Her mom swept toward Vanessa, cradling her face between her nails. Her long, pink fingernails scraped the tops of her cheeks. “Now come here, my baby. Let’s have a little chat, mother and daughter. You are going to be a mommy!”

  Her mom guided her off to an open table and chairs nearby, urging her to sit while she grinned and waved at Gerardo and Amad nearby. Then she sank into the chair facing Vanessa, her smile dissolving.

  “Tell me everything,” she hissed. “How much is he worth?”

  Vanessa’s face fell. She’d actually sort of thought this might be a sweet mother-daughter talk. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s got money, clearly. You’re in Dubai. How did you get here?”

  “He has his own—” she started but then caught herself. “We flew.”

  “His own what?” her mother pressed. “His own plane? His own airline?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We had to go to Paris for some business, and now we’re en route back to Amatbah.”

  “Amatbah.” She leaned back in her chair, tapping at her chin. “So how did you pull it off? Roping in the Amatbahn guy?”

  Vanessa scoffed, disgust churning in her core. “I didn’t pull it off, and I didn’t rope him in. We’ve been seeing each other for a long time. That’s all.” Better to not go into all the details now about just how wham-bam the marriage really was. Even so, what she had with Amad was purer than what her mother tended toward. Wasn’t it?

  “Marriage was smart,” she said, squeezing her daughter’s wrist. “Get him locked in there. The baby, too. It’s a risky move, but hey, the payoffs are larger. When he tries to divorce you, you take him for half, you hear me?”

  Vanessa could only blink at her mother. Questions and insults swarmed her. Why would Amad want the divorce first? Why was it inevitable? And why did everything always boil down to money?

  “Mom—”

  “You know I know a thing or two, honey.” Her mother crossed her legs, adjusting her long purple shawl around her. “I’m just looking out for you. I’m happy you started looking after yourself, though. You make me proud. You’re doing a good job, honey, you know that?”

  Her mother’s accolades didn’t fall quite how she’d intended them. Tears pressed against Vanessa’s eyes, and she fought to keep her voice even. This was the worst type of support she could imagine. And she just wanted to get out of here.