Nine
NINE
LUCAS
M y uncle rescheduled our mid-day meeting, and my body fills with rage as I enter his office.
"You’re not choosing a wife for me."
"I’ve already chosen one, and she’ll be great for you."
"I won't marry a random girl you've picked," I say through gritted teeth. "You don't even know her yourself. You just met her today ."
"You forget that I've lived much longer than you, and that my eyes have seen more people than you could ever dream of. You don't succeed in life without learning how to read people and understand their hearts."
I shake my head at his words. My uncle has been spewing Arabic proverbs about understanding people since I was young, with his favorite being, "The heart knows what the tongue can't say, and what the ears can't hear." He’s always encouraging me to learn how to understand a person through their eyes and determine if they're trustworthy. But he seems to forget that times change and people are much more calculated nowadays. Eyes don’t speak the same language anymore.
"I’m not interested in this girl," I say, crossing my arms in defiance like my younger self.
"You should give her a chance. At least meet her and see for yourself."
I sigh at his words before answering with, "I’ll choose my own wife."
"It’s been over three months, Lucas, and you only have three months left. From my perspective, it doesn't seem like you can. Besides, she’s on her way here now."
Fire courses through my veins. "Are you kidding me? I told you I would handle this myself!"
My uncle just laughs, seeming very pleased with himself.
Suddenly, the door opens and my uncle speaks, "Welcome, Leora."
Leora.
I know that name.
That name belonged to the infuriating woman that threw a drink in my face.
That name . . . is here to be presented as my potential wife.
There’s no way in hell.
I turn, my attention immediately drawn to the woman entering the room. It annoys me that she looks even more beautiful now than she did in the club, but her aura still screams warning . Her eyebrows furrow, and her gaze turns harsh as she spots me.
"You!" she exclaims.
"You!" I respond as we recognize each other.
A sudden realization strikes me. Is this why she approached me in the club, pretending to be innocent and afraid? Was this her plan all along? She must have known who I was and found a way to slither into our lives. Maybe she already knew who my uncle was, and helping him today—an action that warmed my heart up until a few seconds ago—was only a scheme to get her foot in the door.
My anger flares up again, and I can't take it anymore.
"Absolutely not," I say, moving toward the door to leave.
But my uncle's voice stops me in my tracks. "Lucas Christian Ayoub, you do not walk away from me. Sit down and listen!" His words are loaded with disapproval and authority, and for the first time in a long while, he calls me by my full name, making me realize the severity of the situation. I reluctantly comply, sitting back down in my chair.
"You too, Leora," he adds, motioning for her to sit as well.
She complies with his request, looking a bit startled, and says, "I don't understand."
My uncle looks between us. "Have you met before?" I size her up and find her doing the same to me, but neither one of us answers his question. He huffs before he turns his attention to Leora and begins speaking. "Leora, I did my due diligence on you. I know that you were let go from your previous job." She stiffens beside me at his words.
I knew she was looking for a job but not that she was fired.
"I also found out that your previous boss has been spreading negative feedback about you, bad-mouthing you to anyone who listens. However, we do need your skills, and I'm still offering you the job if you agree to one more condition."
Leora looks surprised, before sadness overtakes her. "Why would you still want me?" she asks.
"Because I believe in giving people a chance," he replies. "And because I see potential in you. You have a lot to offer, and we could use someone with your talents and values."
Leora looks thoughtful for a moment—there’s a sheen to her eyes.
Oh god, don’t tell me she’s going to cry. I feel a surge of discomfort as I shift in my seat, unsure of what to do. I hate when people cry. I don’t even remember the last time I shed a tear.
"Okay," she whispers, discreetly wiping away a tear that almost fell before she smiles. I can’t help but stare at her in awe. She’s good. She’s really good, my uncle is eating this up.
Uncle Antoine smiles, relieved. "Great, we'll work out the details later. But for now, let's get back to business."
Leora looks at him, puzzled. "But why is he here?" she asks, pointing at me. There’s not a single tear left in her now sharp eyes.
He takes a deep breath, contemplating his words carefully. "As much as you seem to need us, we also need you," he says. "You see, I'm dying"—straight to the point, making the knot in my stomach twist again at the reminder—"and Lucas is my heir. But he can only take over the hotel if he gets married. That's where you come in."
Leora's expression morphs into a look of sheer confusion. "Oh, I know I said I’ve done some event planning, but I’ve never done a wedding. I meant more business events."
"No, Leora, you misunderstand," my uncle clarifies. "Lucas, here, needs a bride."
"What does that have to do with me?" she asks, still not connecting the dots. Her eyes dart between my uncle and I, and I can feel my frustration bubbling up. How can she not see what we’re getting at?
My uncle takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully, "We want you to be the bride."
Leora's eyes widen, and she looks back at me with a mix of shock and uncertainty. As if looking at me will make any sense of this situation. She’s beginning to understand what my uncle is offering, but for some reason, it looks like she’s not fully there, which means I have to jump in and explain it to her. My eyes roll on their own accord before I speak up. "In short, we need you to marry me so that I can take over the hotel without having our stakeholders riot because I ignored a clause in the company’s contract. I know it's a lot to ask and believe me, I'm not thrilled about this either. But my uncle is adamant that this is the best way to secure the future of the business."
Leora's mouth drops open, and I can tell that she's finally grasping the seriousness of the proposal. "Marry you? But we barely know each other," she protests, her voice wavering with uncertainty and something else.
"I want you to know that I didn't plan for this, and certainly not with you," I continue, her brows furrowing at the truth in my words.
Before she can snap back at me, my uncle speaks, giving me a sharp look. "We don't expect you to give an immediate answer. Take the time you need to think it over. I promise we'll do our best to make this as painless as possible for you."
Leora seems to be echoing my feelings of unhappiness with this situation. I can see her emotions playing out on her face, and it's clear that she's struggling to process everything. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
How did all of this get so complicated? Why couldn’t we just skip the formalities and bend the rules this time?
But my uncle doesn't back down. He speaks earnestly to Leora, explaining the gravity of the situation and the trust he’s placed in her. "Leora, I have given you all of this information because I believe in you. I saw something in you when we spoke, and I truly meant every word I said to you. I trust you to keep this between us, whatever decision you make."
Leora's gaze snaps back to me, and she lifts her small hand, pointing her finger at me again, a gesture I’m starting to dislike. "What about him?" she asks, her voice tinged with frustration. "He doesn't want to marry me."
My uncle's response is direct and unsympathetic. "He has no choice in the matter. He needs a wife, making this your choice and your choice only," he states firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.
The tension in the room intensifies, and I grit my teeth, knowing deep down that my uncle is right. I have responsibilities and obligations to my family, and it seems like fate has tied me to this unexpected and unwanted situation.
To this woman.
Leora doesn’t answer; she just looks around, stunned, before taking a breath, leaning back and staring at the ceiling as if in a trance.
I catch my uncle’s eyes, and he looks as confused as I am.
What’s wrong with her?
She mumbles something, and all I can hear is the word " God." I assume she’s praying for God to make something fall on my head.
"Dear, if you decide to take on this role, not only will you be rewarded with a well-paying job that will significantly advance your career, but you'll also receive compensation that extends beyond six figures. Additionally, you’ll of course recieve coverage for your room and board, as well as a provided car if you want. It’s a win-win situation." He says the last part with a smirk. I don’t know if I want to slam my head into the wall or sink through the chair.
Leora stiffens at the mention of money.
"For how long?" she asks. My uncle looks to me for answers, which is his way of reaching out a hand in this insufferable situation.
"A year should be enough," I offer. "That should give us ample time to persuade the stakeholders before and after the vote."
"Leora, does one year sound feasible to you?"
Leora takes a deep breath, processing everything that has just been revealed to her. She looks at me and then back at my uncle, a mixture of emotions playing across her face. After a few moments of silence, she speaks up.
"I appreciate the offer, but I won’t marry someone I barely know for a job," she says, her voice firm.
My uncle's expression darkens, disappointment etched on his face. "Leora, I understand this may seem sudden and overwhelming, but please take some time to think about it."
"I'm sorry, but I have to decline," Leora replies, standing up from her chair. "Thank you for the job offer, but I don't think this is the right fit for me."
My uncle looks like he's about to protest, but I cut him off. "Uncle, I agree with Leora. This is too much pressure to put on her. We can't force someone to marry me for the sake of a hotel." I mean, of course, it's unfair to me . But by shifting the focus to her, might make my uncle feel a hint of guilt.
He regards me with a mixture of surprise and desperation. "Lucas, this is not just about the hotel. It's about our family legacy; we can't just let it fall apart."
All this talk about family legacy doesn’t sit right with me. It’s too much, too desperate. Something else is off.
Both Leora and I tense up, and she instinctively grasps the back of the chair.
"What do you mean, Ammo?"
He doesn't try to hide his emotions. I’ve never seen him look this beaten down.
"We will lose the hotels. They will vote us out."
My whole body feels as though it's been hit by an arctic blast and I don’t know how to catch my breath.
"They can’t do that. It’s your hotel!" I force out.
"They can do whatever they want if a majority agrees and from the whispers I’ve heard, there will be a vote soon."
"When is the vote?"
"Around the opening."
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"No, it's not," my uncle responds firmly.
"Are they doing it because of me? "
"They are going to be your hotels, Lucas. However, they're investors, which means it's also their hotels by extension"
Leora stares down at her hands, seemingly lost in thought. I can tell she's trying to process everything that's happened. But when she starts looking around the office, her eyes freeze on the pictures of me, Liam, and Ammo Antoine standing in front of different hotel doors. I notice something behind her eyes: guilt, and maybe longing.
Her leg moves up and down rapidly as she fidgets with her fingers. It's as if she's holding something back, but I can't quite tell what it is. I feel a sense of unease wash over me when I try to read her expression, but she finally speaks up, her voice soft but firm. "I need some time to think about it."
I study her intently. Is she feeling bad? Or does she realize how much power she has in her hands—meaning she can get more money?
My uncle nods understandingly. "Of course, take all the time you need. But please keep in mind that we need to put this in motion soon."
Leora nods, her gaze shifting between my uncle and I. I can sense her discomfort, and I know that I’m not the only one unhappy with this situation.
"I understand," she says, standing up from her chair. With that, she turns and walks towards the door. I watch her go, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. Relief that she hasn't said yes, but also disappointment at her aversion to the proposal. Is the idea of marrying me that terrible?
My uncle turns to me, his eyes filled with concern. "Lucas, I know this is not what you want. But we have no other options."
"I know," I say, my shoulders slumping defeatedly.
My uncle sighs. "You have to trust me on this."
I nod, knowing he’s always had my best interest at heart.
"We’ll give her some time to think about it," I say. "But if she says no, what do we do then?"
My uncle fixes his gaze on me, his brows furrowing in a show of deep concern. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. But for now, let's concentrate on persuading her to say yes."
The rest of my day drags on—my body moving through the motions while my mind remains fixated on her. We simply can't afford to lose the hotels; failure is not an option which means it falls on me to make her agree, no matter what it takes. I don’t have a clear plan yet, but I know I must convince her to marry me.
"Monsieur Ayoub, line three for you." Camille’s voice reverberates and I pick up the phone, pressing the button for line three.
"Yes?"
"Hi." A sweet voice on the other end speaks softly, but I can hear the hesitation in her tone.
It's her.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my rapid thoughts before speaking.
"Are you calling to give me an answer?" I ask, my tone flat and emotionless.
There's a brief moment of silence before she replies, "You’re not Antoine."
"I’m not."
"Well, I want to speak to him."
"You’ve got me. Now, answer my question."
She lets out a shaky breath. "I . . . I have some conditions."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course she has conditions, and they probably have everything to do with money.
My fingers drum on the table, voice curt and clipped. "And what are they, Leora?"
There’s another pause on the other end of the line before she speaks again. "Could we meet up and discuss this like civilized people?"
"Very well," I reply, my voice still controlled. "How about you come up to the office?"
"No, not the office. There’s a café close to the hotel. Let’s go there."
I agree, and we set a time for later in the day.
Maybe I can reason with her and negotiate some terms that work for both of us. Whatever happens, I know I can't afford to mess this up. The fate of my family’s hotels rests on my shoulders, and I'll do whatever it takes to save them, even if it means marrying Leora.