It was Amira's Walima. Her Nikkah, which was the wedding contract, happened yesterday. Today was basically the wedding reception. I was finishing the final touches of Amira's eye makeup.

"Amira, stop moving!" I scolded.

"Sorry, I'm nervous," she mumbled.

I pulled back to give her an amused look, "Again?"

"Shut up."

I laughed as I made a winged line on her eyelids. "He's completely smitten with you."

She smiled as she remembered her Nikkah. "I know."

"I'm sure that he's going to faint when he sees you."

"You think?" she grinned.

"I'm positive. You're so beautiful, Amira. MashAllah (God has willed it). "

She got up to hug me. "Thank you," she whispered. "Through thick and thin, you've never abandoned me. I hope one day Allah finds you a husband that deserves you."

I pulled away from her hug. "Marriage isn't my thing."

Amira rolled her eyes, "Doesn't everyone say that before they find the one?"

"Trust me, it's not happening any time soon."

As I finished her makeup, we talked about everything. I told her about how my parents café was not making as much money. Amira sympathized with me since it was our favorite hangout as children. Amira told me about her college experience away from home. I found myself longing to experience something like that, but I knew I couldn't leave my parents.

My parents migrated from Bangladesh when I was extremely young. They came seeking refuge in America due to the Bengali government killing off leaders of my parent's political party. My father had feared raising me in a country that would soon be a slave to injustice. At the first chance they got, they escaped. We've visited a couple of times, but it was always secretive. My parents would have to pretend to not be associated with their party in order to protect me.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. It was Amira's friend, Kanza. She poked her head out the door. "Y'all ready?" she asked.

I nodded as Amira stood up. Kanza was Amira's friend from college. She was also a practicing Muslim like us. A dark colored hijab wrapped tightly over her head. Kanza came for Amira's wedding.

She lost her fiancé a couple years ago. Although, she was carefree and obnoxious, deep in my heart I knew there was a part of Kanza that was afraid to ever find love again. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she gave up completely at the idea of happiness. I felt for her, I really did. Imagining the pain she went through was unbearable to even think about.

Kanza smirked, "Damon's going to probably take you somewhere in this building as soon as he sees you. If you know what I mean."

"Kanza," I gasped at her crude words. "Let's keep the dirty thoughts at bay, please."

"That's no fun," she pouted.

Amira laughed. She nudged Kanza in the side, "Leave it to you to make my Walima a comedy."

Kanza winked, "You know it."

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath.

Kanza playfully glared at me, "You know you're a real pain in the ass, Tasneem."

"You know it," I mocked her previous words with a wink.

"Freaking thief," she muttered under her breath.

"I'm not a thief, I'm just borrowing your phrase," I retorted.

"Borrowing my a-"

I covered her mouth with the palm of my hand, "That's enough curse words out of you."

I felt a wet touch to my palm and I immediately jumped back. My face turned into one of disgust as Amira and Kanza laughed their heads off.

"Take that, loser," grinned Kanza.

"You disgust me," I scoffed while I wiped my hand on a napkin.

"Guys, I think we should start going to the ballroom," said Amira when her laughing ceased.

I checked the clock on the wall. She was right, we were going to be late. I nodded as Kanza and I escorted Amira.

* * * *

Kanza ran off when she saw food on the tables. I shook my head, amused. Typical Kanza. I looked at Amira. Her baby blue lehenga molded to her body perfectly. It was a complete contrast to my own outfit, which was a purple lehenga. It was the filled with dark crystals at the edges. I had decided to go for the darker look. I found it appealing.

Damon stood by the door waiting, besides him was the man I hoped to never see in my café again. His dark eyes examining my face as he straightened. Ibrahim.

I ignored his stare and smirked at Damon's awe expression at his bride, "Surprised?"

"Wow," breathed Damon, his bright green eyes trailing down her body.

I inwardly screamed at how cute they were together. Amira blushed at Damon's reaction. I couldn't stop the smile from gracing my lips at the sight before me. Damon held her close to him, whispering words that seemed to further her blush. Amira slapped his chest playfully. I felt a little sad watching them.

No matter how many times I denied it, I did long for a husband that would look at me the way Damon gazed at Amira. I wanted my future husband to look at me as if I was the only girl in the world for him. I wanted him to comfort me when I felt like I was alone. I wanted a man who wasn't afraid to show he cared. I wanted a man who could find happiness with me even in the darkest of times. I wanted someone to love me.

I noticed that Ibrahim's hard gaze didn't waver away from me. Why was he here? I kept my face passive. His behavior towards me in the café still angered me. He acted like he owned everything and everyone had to obey him. I huffed. I would rather die than deal with his attitude.

"You're the girl from that café," he stated.

Damon and Amira managed to snap out of their trance.

"You two know each other?" asked Amira, confused.

"No," I glared icily at Ibrahim.

Ibrahim narrowed his eyes at me. His dark eyes were seeing right through me. He certainly looked attractive today. The dress shirt clung to the hard planes of his chest and torso. I wonder when he finds the time to workout if he ran such a successful business. His black hair was tousled. It was like he woke up with that hair. He didn't stop staring at me. The intensity of his gaze made me look away.

"I got some business to attend to, Damon. I'll see you inside," his deep voice resonated.

I heard his footsteps walk away and I let out a breath of relief. I didn't understand, but Ibrahim's presence infuriated me, yet it also lured me into his mysterious aura. Amira looked at me with worry.

I gave her a tight smile, "You guys go in. The guests are getting impatient."

Amira gave me one last look before she took Damon's arm and walked into the ballroom. Girls started squealing in happiness. Clapping erupted in the crowd who remained in their seats. I leaned against the door frame, watching my best friend walk down the aisle. Damon leaned over to kiss her cheek. I sighed. Amira was in good hands.

"Cute couple, aren't they?" a low voice asked behind me.

I jumped a little. "Don't scare me like that," I said, startled.

He didn't even smile. His frown still sitting on lips. I turned back to Amira and Damon.

"You never answered my question."

"Yes, they are a cute couple," I mumbled. I didn't want to talk to him.

We stayed silent. I watched Amira laugh at something Damon said. He had his arm around her waist as they sat on the bench. Amira's family posed with them for pictures. Our high school friends started teasing the couple. I recognized the man sitting next to him. Light brown hair framed his bright blue eyes. It was Thomas, Ibrahim's companion from the café.

"Damon, Thomas, and I are old time friends."

"I know," I said. "Thomas went to high school with me."

I didn't recognize him in the café that day. Thomas definitely changed a lot in his physical features, but he was still the same goofball he was in high school. He looked more like an adult now and taller than he was before.

"Guess I'm the only one who didn't go to high school with you guys," Ibrahim lightly joked.

I didn't laugh.

Ibrahim sighed, "Listen, I'm sorry about-"

"I don't want to hear it," I snapped.

His jaw clenched. "I'm trying to be nice here."

"Must hurt your ego, huh?"

"Dreadfully," he replied, dryly.

"You should stick to something you're good at," I fully turned to look at him, a hand on my hip. "Apologies just ain't your thing."

He put his fingers in his pockets. "What do you suppose I'm good at then?" he asked, casually.

I pretended to think. "Oh I know," I grinned. "You're great at being a jerk."

He gave me a blank expression. "Very mature," he said, sarcastically.

I ignored him, "I know you're not here to talk to me about sarcasm." I crossed my arms over my chest, "What do you really want?"

His lips curled up to a smirk. He leaned forward a bit, his hands were still in his pockets. I narrowed my eyes at the movement.

"You," he whispered his voice low and husky.

I shivered at the tone of his voice. His voice was tempting me in ways I didn't even know existed within me. Heat rose to my cheeks.

"Why?" I breathed out.

He moved back to his original position. A smirk that I wanted to slap off was still on his face. "Because I can get anyone I want. And I want you."

"Likely story, what's the real reason?" I asked.

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his thick hair. "I need a wife."

This intrigued me. "A wife?" I questioned.

"If I don't get married soon, I lose my position as CEO. I need to pick a bride fast."

"Well you should keep looking because I'm not the one," I waved him off with my hand.

"I don't care. We're getting married," he stated, firmly. His tone left no room for arguments.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Last time I checked, I had a say in whether I wanted to get married or not."

A mischievous glint entered his eyes. "Oh really?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. What was he planning? I chose to stay silent, waiting for his response.

"What if," he drawled as he circled around me like a predator stalking its prey, "I told you that you didn't have a choice?"

"I'd say you're lying," I said, watching his movements very carefully.

He chuckled, darkly. "Oh my sweet Tasneem, you have no idea who you're dealing with."

My name on his tongue sounded so good. His presence intimidated me because I was his prey. He was the predator who was calling the shots. For some reason, Ibrahim had taken a special liking towards me. His intense gaze did nothing to calm the butterflies in stomach.

"W-What do you mean?" I asked, a little breathless as he took a step closer to me.

"Isn't your family having financial troubles?"

I froze. It was like a bucket of ice cold water hit me. Ibrahim's grin widened as he saw the fear in my eyes.

"Don't you have very expensive tuition bills to pay for?"

His voice was taunting me. He was amused.

"I can pay them," I countered.

"Can you? Especially with a failing business," he mocked me. "It would be a shame if I did something to make it worse."

The man in front of me was the devil's spawn.

"Why me? You could pick any other Muslim girl why choose me?" I seethed, my fists clenching at my sides.

"You're a little spitfire that I can't get out of my mind."

"So your solution is to marry me?"

"My solution is to keep my position as CEO. And you're going to help me," he replied, the smug look never vanishing.

"But-"

"Three days, Tasneem. I'm giving you three days to decide. Every day I will slowly destroy your café until you give me your answer," he dug into his pocket to retrieve a card before passing it to me. "This is my number."

I took the card. Ibrahim Tarkan of Tarkan Industries.

He walked into the ballroom. Over his shoulder he said, "If I were you I'd give me a response as soon as possible or else say goodbye to everything your parents sacrificed for you."

Then, he walked away.