A Serenade with Beauty: A Kurdish Love Story Read online

  Chapter 2

  Mia rarely saw the other Zare brother. Starzzz was always their first stop of the day before they moved on to their other cleaning locations, so she missed the delicious sideshow. Ram was gorgeous, even more than Javad. Vicky loved to drool over the Zare brothers. She always called them a Middle Eastern smorgasbord, an extensive array of male flesh her eyes were addicted to. She fantasized Javad as a Dom and Ram as… well, his name said it all. But that wasn’t the issue now.

  She slid up beside Steve and Vicky’s van, hoping to go unnoticed. Man, if she had only gotten up on time, she would have ridden with them instead of drowning in a bucket of humiliation waiting to happen. Not getting to bed until four this morning, made it impossible. She did not blame her mother, no way, but it was a given caring for her mother was wearing on her physically.

  Mia couldn’t remember the last time she had a full night’s sleep that didn’t include a mad dash to the bathroom or reading pages out of her mother’s favorite romance novel because she was afraid to close her eyes—so afraid she’d never wake up. Mia’s comfort mattered little as long as her mother lived another day.

  Taking a deep breath, she parked her car and cut the engine. Nothing. She waited. Pop! Pop!

  She closed her eyes, releasing all the air in her lungs with slow intensity. Nothing irritated her more than anyone thinking she was poor and helpless. Maybe rating herself on the scale of her car backfiring was a little self-absorbed, but she was sure breaking the sound barrier offered her a free pass.

  When she opened her eyes, Ms. Skittle Boobs sashayed by, smirking, and her red, sequined bra winked hello.

  Inside another curse, Mia grabbed her phone, stowing her purse under her seat and yanked off JB’s jacket. The less she had to keep up with, the better while working. She swung out of her car, and a cold shiver rolled over her as she locked up. Wet hair and the brisk January morning air did not mix, even in Tampa. Ms. Skittle Boobs tore out of the parking lot in her flashy red sports car with a honk.

  As Mia rounded her car and Steve and Vicky’s cleaning van, Ram was still leaned up against the hood of his car with a sexy grin curving his lips.

  The guy was desire, lust, and sin from the top of his dark, overlong hair to his scrumptious body, and silky brown gaze. She hated how her eyes zeroed in on his black leather jacket, emphasizing his hard chest. Of course, they had barely spoken outside his sensual grin and her awkwardness, but the man oozed all kinds of carnal appeal.

  She gave a curt nod, bypassing him.

  “Mia.”

  Her name from his lips sounded foreign, laced with the sultry edge of his accent, but his golden voice could not woo her—would not affect her.

  She paused, lifting an eyebrow. “Yes, Mr. Zare?” She thought it odd to find him frowning at her.

  “It’s cold outside and your hair is wet. Where’s your jacket?”

  His eyes were narrowed and his voice was harsh.

  How he managed to make her feel three feet high inside one question, she was not sure.

  She bristled, her hands tightening on her keys still clutched in her hand. “In my car,” she said, edging away from him, yet his delicious scent wafted too close, and his freshness made her tremble. “Have a good morning, sir.”

  She took off, making it as far as the door before his hand shot around her, barring her from entering.

  Mia gasped. Ram’s body brushed up against hers. The tingle may have started up her arm, but it burned hot through her belly until flushing her cheeks. She gazed up at him, unsure and wavering.

  “Please, allow me,” he said, his accent, heavy and deep.

  He moved slowly, his arm tipping the curve of her chest. Mia was not sure who was more surprised, him or her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, looking away from him. His scent was so fresh and woodsy clean, and the heat of his body warmed her.

  She took one-step inside, yet Ram rounded on her, crowding her space. “Have lunch with me today. I’ll take you anywhere.”

  Mia gave him the deer-lost-in-the-headlights look, her mouth going dry. She could not contemplate his question with him so close. His dark eyes alone held her prisoner. “I-I…”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  ****

  Ram inwardly cringed, caught by Javad’s obvious bad mood. He turned away from Mia, glancing at his brother, answering in Kurdish, “I was just on my way to see you, brother. If you don’t mind, I’ll say a polite farewell and be with you in a moment.”

  He took a chance censuring his older brother, but he could not allow him to berate him publicly.

  As if noticing Mia for the first time, Javad’s demeanor changed from enraged to a hardened mask. He straightened. “Of course. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Javad turned away, entering his private domain with a decisive click of the door.

  Ram turned back to Mia, a red flush riding his cheeks. “Forgive my brother. He is angry with me for being late. Now, what about lunch?” He went from explosive to charming in a nanosecond.

  ****

  “Thank you, but no.” Mia smirked. “Don’t let me keep you. I’m late, too.”

  She ducked around him, heading down the hallway. She had to get away from him. He smelled entirely too yummy, and his accent smoothed over her ears like fine chocolate. She could not even string together a coherent thought, wondering why, especially after witnessing his feel-up session with Ms. Skittle Boobs.

  Vicky would not care about her tardiness, but Steve was more rigid when it came to punctual work attendance. However, they both understood her situation, but she did not want to push her luck. She needed this job.

  “Will I see you again?” A wistfulness touched his voice.

  That made her stop, peering back over her shoulder. He looked lost, his expression one without a name.

  She shrugged. “Try to be on time tomorrow and you might.”

  Ram smiled, his teeth flashing perfect white against the olive hue of his skin. “I will be.”

  The heat smoldering in his eyes touched her, burning her from the short distance between them. Instead of standing there staring like an idiot, she left. With every step, she felt his eyes on her backside.

  ****

  “Nice of you to grace me with your presence today,” Javad said starkly.

  Ram paused in the doorway, his lips tightening at his brother’s tone. He eyed him, sitting at his desk. Sunlight illuminated him from behind, and nothing could mistake the pound of anger zipping through the air.

  He shut the door softly. “I apolo—”

  Javad held up a hand, shooting off in Kurdish, “Save it and take a seat. Oh, and it is interesting to me how you decide to use your native tongue when you want to impress a girl, but never any other time. Why is that?”

  With a heavy sigh, Ram strode closer, taking a seat across from Javad. His brother was ever the polished Kurdish man in his tailored, dark suit, crisp white shirt, and silver tie. The man never relaxed, intimidating and hard.

  “I’m sorry you think so, but it wasn’t intentional.”

  Javad smiled thinly, leaning back in his office chair. The sunlight glinted off his close-cropped inky hair, threaded with strands of gray. “Nothing you ever do is intentional, is it Shahram? Look at how you blew off medical school. Two years from graduating and you left it—intentionally.”

  Ram stiffened. His brother rarely brought up his decision to quit med school, unless furious. After all the hours he’d spent over his books, it hadn’t felt right—he just knew he wasn’t cut out to be a doctor. He needed to change the subject. “Look, last night I made a bad judgment against the asshole at the bar, but I resolved it.”

  The older brother snorted. “Resolved it? The man destroyed the bar and put someone in the hospital. And by some miracle, it wasn’t you.”

  “What’s this really about?” Ram sneered, his anger gathering. “My safety or the money we have to shell out in repairs? I think we can afford it.”
br />   “You just don’t get it, do you? This is not about the money, brother. This is about keeping traditions and your head, even during something as mundane as a bar fight.” Javad said, leaning forward, shuffling some papers on his desk. “But you’ll soon get it, Shahram.”

  Ram frowned. “Is that code for you will take away my allowance?” he asked in English, contempt dripping from his voice.

  Javad smacked his desk with a fist, his dark eyes narrowing. “Speak in Kurdish!”

  A bit sullen, Ram shoved his legs out straight, crossing them at the ankles. “Fine.”

  “I needed to be in Orlando this morning,” he said. “Yet I’ve had a disturbing call from Iran while waiting for you.”

  Tensing, shock fell over Ram’s expression as he met his brother’s eyes. After the hell they went through five years ago, very few people called from their home country.

  “Who was it?” He could not imagine.

  “Our mother’s brother, Mustafa.”

  Ram relaxed a bit, releasing his breath. “Disturbing, how? Is everyone all right? Has someone… died?”

  Javad’s expression hardened and his cool brown eyes revealed nothing. “He’s coming to visit.”

  A wealth of surprise lit within Ram. “Strange. Of all our family, he’s the last one I’d ever thought would come to the west.”

  Javad inclined his head. “To simplify a rather lengthy conversation, he’s coming to suggest marriage for us. The family thinks it’s time.”

  Ram snorted, shifting in his chair, angry now. “Why? If you or I feel so matrimonially disposed, I am sure we can find our own brides. I’m not ready for that.”

  A smile curved Javad’s face, but it did not quite meet his eyes. “This is one of those rare occasions where I agree, brother. That’s why I’ll take the brunt of this ceremony for you.”

  The corners of Ram’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Javad sighed, clearly annoyed. “Mustafa wants to suggest two Kurdish women for both of us, but I’ll keep you out of the discussions.” He gave a sardonic look when Ram said, “Thank God” under his breath. “With that being said, I don’t want to marry at all.”

  Ram was not surprised by the news. Javad had been married before and a rival tribe had killed his wife on his wedding day. He knew Javad would not be interested in another marriage.

  “But how will you ‘take the brunt of this ceremony’ if you don’t want to marry?” Ram asked.

  Javad stood and walked to the window, shoving a hand into his pants pocket. “I’ll present my engagement here. If I’m already set to marry, then our uncle must forget the whole process.”

  Ram huffed a harsh breath. “That’s excellent for you, but what about me? This won’t keep him from suggesting a wife.”

  Javad shot him a level look. “I think your immaturity will speak for itself, don’t you?”

  Ram would not touch that topic. The last thing he needed was Javad’s usual speech about propriety and tradition. He liked women… a lot. He was twenty-seven, and he enjoyed experiencing life. And in the west, there was a honey pot of life yet to live.

  His mind flipped back to the other problem at hand. “Where will you dream up this bride for yourself?”

  The older brother grinned, walking closer, and then stopped beside him. “That’s where you will come in, Shahram.”

  Ram stood, both men of equal, impressive height and dark coloring. Except for his overlong hair, they could almost pass as twins. “Me? How?” He could not imagine.

  “Since I can’t be bothered with this, I want you to find me a bride.”

  Ram grunted. “From where? Will some magical fairy drop her on my doorstep?”

  Javad sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is why marriage for you is off the table,” he said softly, more to himself, and then met his brother’s gaze. “I have to go to Orlando and I might be there several weeks. I cannot be bothered. You have two weeks to find me a suitable wife. In the time it took for you to get here, I already set up a bridal fund of fifteen thousand. My only criteria is that the girl should be polite, well-mannered, and without a police record.”

  “God, you’re serious about this? What sane woman will agree?” Ram shook his head in disbelief. He could not believe his brother was ordering a bride as easily as fast food. “What about the girl? How am I supposed to know your type?” If there is such a thing.

  “This isn’t a real marriage,” Javad snapped, glaring hard. “It’s a business arrangement.”

  “Well, it’s not ‘traditional’ to pay for a bride, Javad. I thought you were old school on this.”

  “Have you really forgotten tradition and our Kurdish ways? Have you forgotten that a Kurdish groom pays for everything? Gifts, gold, and the whole house? One of our relatives paid over twenty thousand to the bride’s father just for agreeing to the marriage. What I’m offering is paltry. And don’t forget, what I’m offering is merely an arrangement. We will not marry. She and I will appear before Mustafa, and present a valid engagement. He will return to home and she and I will part ways. If anything, she will be fifteen thousand dollars richer and we will have control back over our lives. No harm, no foul.”

  Ram swung away, pacing, and threaded a hand through his hair. “Oh? Then why do I have to find her?”

  “I explained it. I’m busy,” Javad said matter-of-factly.

  He paused in his stride, throwing Javad a glittering look. “And I guess, I’m just twiddling my thumbs here? I’m busy too.”

  He was not, but the responsibility Javad was asking of him was ridiculous. Where was he supposed to find this phantom bride?

  Javad nodded. “Yes, well, like I said, bar fights aren’t high on my list of acceptable behavior, nor rank high in my category of ‘busy.’ You will manage Starzzz like a normal human being, find me a bride, and introduce her to Kurdish culture.”

  Hot anger welled in Ram’s chest, raising his hand in Javad’s direction. “Wait—you never said I had to teach her anything?”

  The older Zare brother grinned. “I love this arrangement more and more, brother. Not only have I found a way to curb your wild behavior, but a way to reaffirm your heritage. It will be good for you. Take her to Maryam and her daughters, they live traditionally and will enjoy the company. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it before.” Javad’s enthusiasm strengthened by degrees, and his smile beamed.

  Ram looked away, backed in a corner and angry. The last thing he wanted was such a heavy responsibility on his shoulders, but he knew he had no choice. Family was more important and deep down, he knew that.

  “Fine, but I can’t promise that she won’t be a heartless bitch.”

  Javad smirked, moving toward the door, smoothing a hand down his tie as he went. “Oh, but she won’t be. I know you will take this charge seriously. Just find her, Shahram,” he said, pausing to look at his brother. “Now, go watch the construction, the workers should be finished by three or four… just in time for opening at seven.” He left.

  ****

  Ram strode out of Javad’s private office, slamming the door. The first random girl he laid eyes on—he would choose her! Maybe she would be toothless, fat, and hideous. Oh, Javad would pay for placing him in this position.

  He stomped his way to the main club floor. How could Javad drag him into something so personal? This reminded him of… home. Something he rarely allowed himself to think of. How many times had his parent’s home been filled with guests, discussing marriage proposals or the latest tribal gossip? Many.

  To be charged with finding Javad a suitable fiancée grated on his last nerve. Where the hell was he to find her?

  His dark gaze landed on Mia.

  Chapter 3

  “There you are, sweetie pie! Missed you.”

  Vicky’s voice came from behind as Mia strode into the club, which was in construction mayhem. Drills, workers, and Steve and Vicky were in full force action.

  She turned toward her employer’s voice, fo
rcing a smile on her lips, her thoughts still on Ram and his strange behavior and heavenly dark eyes. The man was gifted in the sexy category, but she knew to be wary of him. Men like him tended to migrate toward temporary women like Ms. Skittle Boobs and Mia was not like that. She did not date, and the prospect of sexing him up, though a delightful thought, was not in the cards.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late—”

  Vicky waved her off. “Stop already. I’d be the same if it were my mother. It’s all good.”

  She smoothed a hand over her black and white apron, her pudgy middle evidence of having three kids with little exercise over the years. At forty-five, she was past the point of caring anymore, very comfortable with her body.

  Vicky nodded her bleached blonde head toward the front of the club. “As you can see, I’ve done precious little since we arrived. I think Steve is ready to divorce me.”

  “Not divorce you, but definitely rethinking our vacation to Maui, babe,” Steve said, walking up behind his wife, kissing her forehead. He was tall and lanky with salt and pepper hair, wearing the same apron. Steve flashed Mia a polite smile and said, “Ready to hit it hard?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mia replied, returning his smile, still unnerved she was late.

  “Well, I suggest beginning in the back, bathrooms, hallways—”

  Vicky shooed him away. “Off with you, now. I’ll get Mia set up.”

  Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I should do it. I mean, I would like to make it home sometime today.” He winked playfully at Vicky.

  His wife rolled her eyes. “We will, so stop nagging.”

  He grunted. “Says the woman who wore out our DVD player watching Magic Mike. I’m not buying it, babe. I know how you love a good flesh-fest.”

  Vicky softened, eyeing her husband with love. “Aw, but you know it’s you I take home to bed and no one else.”

  Uncomfortable, Mia turned away from the married couple who wrapped their arms around each other, lost in themselves. It was not that she was jealous, but rather depressed she could not claim such a reliance on another human being.