Mediteranean Sunset

  Copyright © 2019 Yvette Canoura

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 9780578461380

  When Fatima was growing up in the affluent neighborhood of Kalorama in Washington D.C., she never imagined that her father, an ambassador, would force her into an arranged marriage that would take her across the world.

  After graduating from college, Fatima is thrust into the bed of a ruthless military man with revenge on his mind. Away from family and friends in a foreign country, she gradually accepts her fate… until an encounter with a handsome doctor ignites feelings and desires that jeopardize her life as she is torn between an unrelenting husband and a forbidden liaison. Her choices will uncover secrets that will unravel a chain of events that will change her life forever.

  Fatima, you were my mentor, my editor, and the first person to believe in me and give me the chance to prove myself and discover my path as a writer.

  Jeannette, my friend of many years, your advice and encouragement help me go on when I feel like giving up.

  Elsa, an unexpected surprise, a light at the end of a tunnel. You made me believe when I thought the dream had faded. Now, it’s a reality.

  Adriana and Marinieves, you helped good become better.

  Sally, Avery and Mark, you gave the book its final touches.

  The Chaar clan: Sami and Sara the photographer and model dynamic duo, and Mohammad, a source of publishing guidance.

  Last, the Mediterranean sunset photos by Morelli.

  Thank you.

  Ibrahim, you are the love of my life, my fountain of inspiration, my best friend, and my soul mate.

  Hasan, you are the most precious gift God has ever given me.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1My Meeting with Destiny

  Chapter 2 Sweet Sixteen

  Chapter 3 The Legend of Antarah

  Chapter 4 Love & Marriage

  Chapter 5 A Loss

  Chapter 6 Life Turned Upside Down

  Chapter 7 The Meeting

  Chapter 8 Formalities

  Chapter 9 The Honeymoon

  Chapter 10 Married Life

  Chapter 11 Declaration Of Independence

  Chapter 12 A Refreshing Surprise

  Chapter 13 Second Chances

  Chapter 14 Making a Difference

  Chapter 15 Ultimate Betrayal

  Chapter 16 New Beginnings

  Chapter 17 The Love Affair

  Chapter 18 Our Mediterranean Sunsets

  Chapter 19 A Trip To D.C.

  Chapter 20 Business As Usual

  Chapter 21 A Family Affair

  Chapter 22 Distance Between Lovers

  Chapter 23 Rumors & Revelations

  Chapter 24 Death & Suspicion

  Chapter 25 Spy Games

  Chapter 26 In Jeopardy & Secrets Revealed

  Chapter 27Return To Antarah

  Epilogue

  “I haven’t spoken to you in a while, is everything all right?” Esmaa asked.

  “Things couldn’t be better, my darling Esmaa. How do you like your new living arrangements?” Fouad asked.

  “I’m bored without you. I need to see you.”

  “Patience, my dear. We’ve only been apart for a few months.”

  “It seems like an eternity.”

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day. It might be years until our next encounter.”

  “Years? I can’t stand being another minute without you!” Esmaa struggled to keep from sounding desperate.

  “I miss your feistiness my dear, but we have to stick to our plan. You know what’s at stake. We have a lot to do before we can move ahead. In the meantime, I will cherish our unforgettable goodbye.”

  “A man like you has needs. You can’t stay faithful for long,” Esmaa complained.

  “Who said anything about faithful? We have an agreement and you know the rules. You establish yourself in the United States; I keep going on with my life in Antarah, as planned, and when it’s time, I’ll send for you.”

  “Aren’t you afraid that I might meet someone who will sweep me off my feet and you‘ll lose me forever?”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, but in the event it does, I might have to arrange a surprise visit to make you disappear. However, I’m certain that won’t be necessary.”

  “You are so full of yourself,” she nagged.

  “And you are so turned on by it,” he countered. “Just stay focused on the goal and we will be together sooner than you can imagine. Remember, do not call me. I will keep in touch.”

  “I love you,” Esmaa said as Fouad hung up. The click of the receiver echoed in her ear. As Esmaa fought back tears, her friend, Diana, walked in.

  “What’s wrong Esmaa? Have you been crying?” she asked concerned.

  “Don’t be silly. Just allergies. My life couldn’t be better. No commitments, months away from graduating, a dream job at NASA. What else can I ask for?”

  “Indeed, you are a very lucky girl,” Diana admitted.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Esmaa remarked. “I work hard; I’m intelligent, possess certain attributes, and know how to use them to my advantage. I always get what I want.”

  “Add modesty to your list,” Diana said as she assessed Esmaa and admitted that she was striking; not beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but alluring in a self- confident, self-possessed way.

  “I’d love to stay and chat but I have a meeting with Dr. Lorenz. I’ll see you later.”

  Esmaa breezed past Diana on her way out of the apartment, leaving her signature scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

  My Meeting with Destiny

  My fate was sealed before I was even conceived. No one knew it at the time, but I was destined to live a life filled with grief. Although many people think that we can change our destinies, the Muslim faith believes that Allah has mapped out our lives from birth to death. Therefore, our path has to be accepted as God’s will.

  As I sat in silence gazing out the window of the limousine, I suddenly became aware that we were turning into the driveway of a large two story mansion.

  Although it was dark, the reflection from the headlights made it apparent that the grounds were covered with beautiful plush gardens.

  “Welcome to our home, Fatima,” Fouad said. “I’m sure that you will be pleased with our new life here.”

  As we pulled up to the front door, I slowly stepped out of the limo and looked around. I realized at that moment that I could never warm up to a house that was as cold as my feelings towards my new husband.

  “Come back for us in the morning,” Fouad told the driver as he closed the door.

  There was no escaping my fate now. My nightmare was about to begin and there was no way out of this irrational dilemma my father had put me in.

  As we entered, the smell of tobacco permeated the entire room. Fouad proudly led me through the beautifully decorated house. When we finally reached the backyard, I was surprised and for a brief moment happy to see a lap pool.

  I drifted off to my childhood remembering the countless hours I spent in the pool training for the swim team. In the beginning, my father disapproved because in Islam it is haraam, a sin, for a woman to exhibit herself in a bathing suit. Nevertheless, Mama convinced him to let me continue and, l
ike any proud parent, he was thrilled when I brought home a trophy after a swim meet.

  “I had it built especially for you,” he said. “Your father told me that you are an avid swimmer.”

  Suddenly, he started rubbing my shoulders as he continued to talk. Chills ran down my spine. “I hope this will be an incentive for you to always keep your body as perfect and inviting as it is right now.”

  Slowly pulling away, I looked up to see him staring at me like a vulture that had just spotted its prey.

  We continued walking through the house and came to a staircase that went to the second floor. Fouad suddenly grabbed my hand tightly and led me up the steps. Even though there was more to see, Fouad seemed uninterested at this point in showing me the rest of the house. He had other plans.

  “I’ve saved the best for last,” he said. “Our bedroom.”

  We entered a room that was spacious with deep burgundy walls and oversized mahogany furniture with gold detail. Fouad walked over to the large custom made bed and sat down.

  “Here,” he said patting the mattress, “is where we will consummate our marriage tonight.”

  My stomach was in knots.

  He got up, closed the door, and proceeded to unloosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. As I watched him unbuckle his belt, I felt ill.

  He sat in a huge, plush chair and kicked off his shoes. He looked like a king on his throne waiting for me to throw myself at his feet. He reached over and poured himself a Scotch as he looked at me intently.

  “So, are you just going to stand there?” he asked.

  I did not know what to say.

  “You are aware that it is our wedding night. Take off all that jewelry except for the pieces I gave you,” he insisted.

  I followed his instructions. It took about five minutes to remove all of the gold. He stood up and helped me with the clasps on the chains. He also unzipped my dress. Then, he sat back down in the chair.

  “Show me what’s under the clothes,” he ordered.

  “You want me to undress here?”

  “Yes, I want you to take everything off slowly. I want to see your body.”

  He was losing his patience as I just stood there frozen. Then, he continued in a sarcastic tone.

  “Please, don’t tell me you haven’t done this before. I know you “American girls.” Don’t expect me to believe you are a virgin.”

  I dropped my head and looked down at the floor.

  “Oh my God! You are a virgin. I truly am a lucky man,” he chuckled. He proceeded in a loud voice, “Come on, and don’t keep your husband waiting.”

  I was petrified when he got up and removed his pants because I had never seen a naked man before.

  “We can do this the nice way or the hard way. You choose. Either you take your clothes off now or I will rip them off like an animal.”

  At that point, he really started to scare me. I knew he was capable of raping me although I already felt violated just by the way he looked at me. I reluctantly undressed for him, degrading myself once again.

  He came close to me and pulled my hair down. I could smell the suffocating aroma of tobacco mixed with liquor on his breath. It was nauseating.

  “Not bad,” he said, as he looked me over. “Wash up. I want you nice and clean. I laid out what I want you to wear for our special night. Go, and don’t take long. I’ll be waiting.”

  I could tell he was aroused, especially now that he knew he was going to be my first. As I showered, I remembered all the stories I had heard from my college girlfriends about their first time. The body tingling in anticipation of that moment, the desire and excitement taking over their ability to think, the wonderful feeling of making love to someone they really cared about. None of those emotions were there for me.

  As I slipped into a skimpy, revealing piece of clothing, I thought about how I had envisioned my first time and knew this was not the way it was supposed to be. I had saved myself for the perfect man, and now I was giving my body to a total stranger. I felt so disillusioned.

  “What’s taking so long?” he shouted snapping me back to reality.

  “I’m coming.”

  When I stepped out, he slowly devoured me with his eyes and asked me to turn around.

  “You look incredible. I want to see you like this every night. Come closer,” he said pulling me towards him.

  I was sickened as he pressed his naked body against me. He started kissing my neck, then took off my top, turned me around and started biting my breasts. I just wanted to vanish. I was tense, stiff as a board. I shut down as he ripped off my panties with his teeth. I was disgusted by his kisses and his touch. His body rubbing against mine made me cringe. I kept thinking how I was moments away from losing my dignity and myself to a ruthless, manipulative, egocentric man who would forever remind me how worthless I would always feel in his arms.

  He grabbed me by the waist, threw me onto the bed, and climbed on top of me. He was hard and began to penetrate me ruthlessly and violently. As he thrust himself in and out of me, his moans grew louder and louder until he climaxed. My motionless body just laid there. Tears rolled down my face and my hands moved to wipe them quickly and to avoid giving him the pleasure of knowing that he had hurt me both physically and psychologically.

  I was ashamed and in pain. I was revolted by his actions. Yet, I was well aware that this was just the beginning.

  After he was done with me, Fouad checked his pristine white sheets for evidence to corroborate that I was truly a virgin. He found his proof. He was delighted. I was humiliated.

  “Wasn’t it amazing? Because, I have to tell you, you’re probably the best I’ve ever had, and you being a virgin was such a sweet perk,” he said.

  “You make me sick,” I replied.

  “You’ll get used to it. You have no choice,” he said laughing. “I know of many women who would kill to be in your place. You should feel honored.”

  As I got up to walk away, he grabbed me tightly by the arm. “Where are you going?”

  I frantically pulled my arm back and tried to set myself free. What was the worst he could do to me that he had not already done? I was crazed and spoke without thinking.

  “To scrub my body and try to get your scent off my skin.”

  He shoved me back on the bed and pinned me down.

  “You go when I tell you to go. This is my wedding night. From this day forward, you are mine and my smell will always permeate your body,” he said looking down into my eyes.

  “Don’t provoke me again, Fatima. No woman talks to me like that and lives to tell about it.” He bit my lip hard enough to draw a little blood. “Be careful my darling,” he whispered wiping my lip with his tongue. “I wouldn’t want to lose my temper.”

  As he rolled over and sat up, he reached for a cigarette on the nightstand and lit it. After taking a few puffs he stood up. “Let’s take a shower and go to sleep,” he demanded. “We have an early start tomorrow.”

  As I stepped into the shower, the water felt like needles hitting my skin. Not only did I hurt, but I noticed the bruises on my breasts, arms and thighs. I quickly washed myself off and as I turned to get out, Fouad stepped in.

  “Where are you going, my dear?” he asked. “Did you think that we were done?”

  All I could do was close my eyes as he began kissing me again and fumbling my breasts. I was ill and prayed that this time it would end quickly.

  As I made my way back to the bed, it was difficult to walk. He had ripped me from the inside out. Each step was a painful reminder of his barbaric acts. I needed some sanity.

  When he finally fell asleep, I slipped into my bathing suit and robe and headed downstairs to the pool. From that moment on, it would become my sanctuary.

  As I submerged my swollen body in the water, hoping to cleanse my mind and soul from the repulsive experience I had ju
st lived, I allowed my mind to drift to a time when my life was simpler; a time when my hopes and dreams promised me a bright future.

  Sweet Sixteen

  “Happy birthday, sleepy head,” Jamila said as she crawled on my bed.

  “What time is it?” I groaned in a groggy voice.

  “Time to wake up.”

  “Seven thirty!” I said after looking at the clock before covering my face with the sheets. “Come back in about an hour.”

  “Ok,” Jamila replied, disappointed as she walked towards the door.

  Suddenly, I hopped out of bed.

  “Gotcha! Come back here. I hardly slept last night with all the excitement,” I said, giving her a big hug.

  “I’m so nervous about tonight. All these important people...”

  “Don’t worry. Out of all the people coming, you are the most important one, my best friend,” I said holding her hand.

  Jamila’s parents wanted her to have a better life than the one they could give her in Antarah, so they convinced her aunt Samira, our cook, to talk my father into allowing her to come live with us.

  My father agreed to bring Jamila to Washington under one condition, that she would be treated like a daughter. I was thrilled with my parents’ decision to make her a part of our family.

  I loved Jamila. She was truly like a sister to me. We told each other everything. It was fun having her around especially on a day like today.

  “So, did you decide on what to wear?” I asked her.

  “Not yet, I need your help.”

  “Why don’t we have Mahmoud take us shopping?”

  “Great idea.”

  We giggled as we bounced on the bed. A knock at the door startled us.

  “Keep it down, girls,” Mama said, peering in.

  “Come in, Mama.”

  “Happy sweet sixteen, habeebtee.”

  “Thank you,” I said kissing both sides of her cheeks.

  “Where’s Baba? Is he still sleeping?”

  “When have you known your father to sleep past 6 am?”

  With that, I dashed out of the room and down the spiral staircase to his study.