Chapter 22
JASMINE
Amakeup artist dusted another layer of powder across my cheek while the photographers barked at their assistants about the lighting. One of Deja’s people kept butting in, arguing about the emotions they wanted to invoke with this new line of fragrances and how the campaign needed to convey that.
I sat in the middle of it all, quiet as I stared at my phone lying face down on the vanity. Every so often, someone would glance in my direction, obviously waiting for me to offer an opinion, but I just didn’t care enough right now to give it.
My sister’s fragrances were popular because they smelled better than any other scent on the planet. People would buy them no matter what color the lights were or how I stood, sat, or lay underneath them.
The makeup artist picked up some eye shadow. A long, soft sigh worked itself out of me as I closed my eyes. Usually, I was very vocal at these shoots. I’d certainly never waited for someone to look for an opinion before I’d offered one, but today, they could wait until I was damn well ready.
If it meant having to reset everything all over again before we got started, then so be it.
I wasn’t in the mood to be accommodating.
I glanced at my phone again, my heart urging me to pick it up and see if there was anything new from Isaac, but my head absolutely refused to let my body follow through.
In the few days since I’d returned to Cairo, I hadn’t spoken to him at all. In fact, I hadn’t said or written a single word to him since we’d gotten back from the Sinai. I knew it was mean, but I’d been screening his calls and texts whenever he reached out.
It made me feel like an awful person every single time my phone lit up with his name, but I could live with that. What I couldn’t live with was doing anything at all that might encourage my father’s plans.
Another sigh slipped out of me and the makeup artist’s hand finally stilled before she pulled it away from my face. “Are you okay, Ms. Saad?”
“How is that any of your business?” I snapped, then glanced at myself in the mirror and scoffed. “Why am I so shiny? It looks like a pot of glitter exploded on my face.”
Her brow furrowed. “My instructions were to think ethereal. I?—”
“You what? You thought ethereal just meant you have to make me look like a fish’s tail? No.”
She blinked a few times, tears welling on her lids before she started reaching for a bottle of makeup remover with a trembling hand. Guilt immediately slammed into me and I reached out, taking her wrist in a gentle grip to stop her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out yet another sigh. “Ignore me. My diva side is showing today and I don’t quite know how to put this genie back in the bottle. Just carry on, okay? I’m sure you’re doing a great job.”
She nodded, but I closed my eyes again, silently trying to let her know that our conversation was over. The truth was I didn’t know how to put my inner bitch back in the bottle because I didn’t know how to handle the situation I was in.
That morning after we’d arrived home from the desert, my father had sat me down and told me he was considering marrying me off.
The words had been a blow I hadn’t expected, despite how many times in the past they’d introduced me to possible suitors and even all the warnings my sister had been giving me these last few months.
In the run-up to her wedding, she’d told me time and again I was likely to be next, but I hadn’t wanted to believe her. Two of my brothers were older than me, for God’s sake. Tarek, my twin, by only a few minutes, sure, but he was older nonetheless.
Then there was Rami, who was two years older. Surely, that meant my father’s sights should’ve been set on him, but nope. Apparently, immaturity was a disqualifying factor in the marriage race. If only I’d known…
When I sighed again, Sasha, my assistant, gently touched my shoulder. “They’re almost ready for you, Jasmine. Would you like to take five before we get started?”
“No, but if I wanted to take twenty, I would.” I lifted my chin, brushing away the makeup artist’s hand as I arched an eyebrow at Sasha. “Did you approve that dress?”
“Yes. Why?”
I shook my head. “Because I’m going to look like a wannabe mermaid. The glitter on my face already makes me look like a fish, but apparently, the correct word for it is ethereal.”
Sasha sighed, jerking her chin at the makeup artist to show her we needed a minute before she pulled up a chair. “What’s going on? You’re really not yourself today.”
“Why, because I’m not happy with anything?” I sniffed. “Maybe if people would actually do their fucking jobs, I?—”
“Jasmine,” she said patiently, huge green eyes holding mine intently.
“This is for Deja, remember? She designed this whole line around this idea that some things are too perfect for earthly existence. She’s deeply in love and she’s looking to share the almost otherworldly beauty of that with your customers. ”
I pouted but drew in a deep breath through my nostrils. “I know.”
Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. Because I could’ve had that too. Maybe. It was a possibility, anyway.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I’ve just got some things to work through and I’m struggling.”
Mostly because I had to do everything in my power to stop my father’s plans to marry me off. Even if it meant having to choose between whatever had been growing between Isaac and me and my future happiness.
I was dangerously close to losing the right to decide for myself what I wanted, and as a result, I’d been forced to take step back from Isaac. If I was going to lose him anyway, I’d rather do it now, before it hurts too much.
I squeezed Sasha’s hand again and shook my head as I rose to my feet. “Come on. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Who am I kidding? It already hurts like stubbing a pinkie toe after you’ve already broken it—and that’s coming from experience.
My stylist appeared like she’d been summoned, settling me into an elegant ivory gown I was still annoyed by.
While I usually loved helping Deja bring her work to life, I really just wasn’t feeling it today, but she’d spent months perfecting every bottle, every scent, and every ribbon, so I sucked it up and got out there.
This campaign was for the American launch of the line, and as much as nothing felt right, we were still relatively new to that market and trying to expand. The launch was way too important in the greater scheme of things for me to mess it up.
Even so, the lighting irritated me, the music grated against every nerve, and when I was offered sparkling water instead of flat, I nearly bit Sasha’s head off. “What, do you want me to look bloated?”
Eventually, the photographer lowered his camera. “Jasmine, I need the woman who usually walks onto my set. Where is she?”
“I am her.” I held his gaze. “Will you just take your pictures already?”
He smiled kindly. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“We need the girl who actually has fun doing this and you’re not her. I can’t take pictures when it looks like you’re hating every second of what you’re doing. We will sell nothing.”
As I looked back at him, knowing full well that he was right, I moved my arms back to my sides and nodded. He deserved better than this from me. They all did.
Despite the guilt over ignoring Isaac pressing down on my chest and the worry about my future hanging like a thundercloud over my head, I forced my lips to form the shape of a smile.
“Fine, but can we please have some different music? I’m feeling old-school, girl-power pop.
Give me the Spice Girls, and Destiny’s Child, and Lady Marmalade.
And turn it up. I want to feel that empowerment running through my veins. ”
He blinked a couple times, then shrugged and nodded at someone. Seconds later, my request was fulfilled and I drew in another deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried to channel my inner badass who didn’t need a man to make her happy.
For the rest of the morning, I posed, smiled, and laughed, turning as I sprayed perfume, played an air-guitar, and shouted some of the lyrics at the top of my lungs. By the final setup, even my diva tendencies were exhausted, but I’d done it.
The photographer finally grinned at me and spread his arms out to his sides. “That’s a wrap!”
Applause echoed around the studio and I thanked him, then accepted a bottle of flat water and slipped into the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. It was only then that I noticed someone had been sitting in the small observation area behind a pane of mirrored glass overlooking the set.
A familiar broad-shouldered figure leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked out at the studio beyond. My footsteps slowed, but my heart rate spiked. It looked like he’d been watching for a while and my cheeks suddenly flooded with heat.
“Isaac?” I said as I headed toward him. “What are you doing here, and how much of that did you see?”
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at me, rising to his feet in the same motion but not moving closer. “If you’re asking what I’m doing in Cairo, then the answer is that I came for a few meetings and such.”
It felt like my heart was cracking as I looked into those blue eyes and saw the hurt and confusion in them, but that didn’t change anything. “I meant here here. As in, at my studio.”
“I wasn’t aware it was yours,” he teased, but it fell flat. “Either way, I came to talk to you. You’re either ignoring me or avoiding me, and since you won’t take my calls, I figured I’d do it in person.”
I pressed my palms flat against the bottle of water in my hands, the cold doing nothing to help the sudden shame cascading through me. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind, I guess.”
His head tilted slightly as he slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “I figured, but can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did me kissing you last week have anything to do with this?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “What?”
“You ran away from me then too, so it stands to reason that’s why you suddenly disappeared.” He shifted on his feet, rolling his lips into his mouth before he gave his head a quick shake. “Look, Jasmine, I’m sorry, okay? I guess that’s what I came here to say before I leave. I’m sorry.”
“Before you leave?” I frowned, my heart swooping like it was already preparing to crash to the floor. “Where are you going?”
“I’m heading back to Chicago soon,” he said quietly. “Just for a little while.”
I blinked rapidly, my extremities going ice cold. “Why? I thought you were meant to be staying here for at least a year.”
He hesitated before he answered, and immediately, I knew something wasn’t right. It should’ve been a simple question, but he wouldn’t be struggling this much to answer if he was going back for work or to check in with his family.
I searched his gaze, obviously not finding anything concrete, but a quiet certainty settled over me when I saw his jaw tighten like he was holding something back.
This had to do with the situation my father was forcing me into with David.
I didn’t know why I was so sure, but I was absolutely convinced.
Great. Now I feel doubly guilty, and heartbroken, and scared, and angry.
“You can’t leave before you see the Pyramids up close and personal,” I said firmly, squaring my shoulders as I made the decision. “We’ll go right now. Just give me a few minutes to change.”
“Right now?” He glanced at his watch, then frowned at me. “I thought they were just giant triangles. Why do you suddenly want to go so badly?”
“Because you do,” I said, already starting to back toward the dressing rooms. “I promised I would take you and I keep my promises. We’re going, Isaac. End of discussion.”