Free A Family Affair by Fern Michaels Page A

Malik. Please, no chaperones, just Trish.”
    Malik looked at Trish, and she bobbed her head up and down. Since Malik could deny his bride-to-be nothing, he agreed.
    Soraya was off her chair in a nanosecond. She did her best to smother her brother with kisses and hugs. “Oh, I am too excited to eat. I must pack.” She was almost out of the dining room when she ran back. “Who is planning the wedding?”
    “Rashid.” Malik hated the sound of his sister’s laughter as she ran from the room.
    Trish burst out laughing. “Are you having second thoughts about your wedding planner?” Trish giggled.
    “Not one little bit. Well, perhaps a little. All right, a lot. But Rashid will not fail us. I think I can guarantee it will be a wedding to remember. Come. Let’s go to the garden. It’s been too long since I kissed you.”
    Trish needed no urging. She bolted from the chair and reached for Malik’s hand. She couldn’t wait to feel his lips on hers.
    Life certainly was wonderful.
    In between earth-shattering kisses, the ecstatic couple talked of what married life would be like, living in the palace, how many children they wanted, how they would be raised, and what Trish’s role would be until the children came along. Many more kisses later, Malik got down to what he called “the serious stuff.”
    The serious stuff turned into a one-way discussion of money, lots of money, way too much money for Trish to comprehend. “I spoke to my advisers early this morning to bring them up to date, not that they weren’t already up to date. I’ve spoken to them several times since my father’s passing, and they told me the only record they have of a marriage here in the palace was that of my father many years ago and how the situation was resolved with my mother’s parents. So, we must abide by that ruling.
    “On our wedding day, you will receive five million dollars. It will be deposited in banks in Switzerland or perhaps Liechtenstein. Possibly the Antilles. The account will be solely in your name. My advisers will hold meetings with you, and you will tell them how you want your money invested. That is my wedding gift to you. Then there is a rule in place that every year we stay married, on the anniversary of our wedding day, another five million dollars will be deposited into your account. In addition to that, for every child born of our union, five million more will be deposited.
    “No one will ever be able to touch that money but you. Also, you will have an account here at the palace, where you will have access to as much money as you need to use for whatever you want. We also have credit cards and accounts at all the souks. All you have to do is sign your name.”
    Trish’s eyes popped wide. “No! I am not marrying you for your money. I can’t accept that. The palace account, yes, but nothing else, Malik.”
    “It’s not negotiable, Trish. It’s how it is done here. Are we going to fight?” he teased.
    “No, Malik, I have no wish to fight with you. Life is too short. I just want you to know that I am not marrying you for your wealth. I’d live in a tent in the desert with you if it came down to that. I never once thought . . . What in the world am I to do with all that money?”
    Malik nodded, as though he had known all along what she would say. “I need to speak of two more things. You won’t like hearing them, either, and I don’t like to speak of them myself, but it must be done. One, you must learn to speak Arabic. Not fluently, but enough so that you can greet and carry on a conversation of sorts with our people. And we ask, note I said ask, that you read the Koran. In turn, I will read your Bible. Will you agree to this?”
    Trish didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely.”
    “That brings me to the last thing on my list of things to discuss. In the event of my death, you will step into my sandals. Only a wife can do this, not my sister, and she fully understands this. If there are children, boys specifically,