“Your Grace, if you would just reveal to us who this woman is, we can better prepare.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, she must be vetted. Her family must be researched. What is her faith?”
“Incorrect,” I snap. “I’m not fucking her family.”
Clearing his throat, he tries again. “There are rules that have to be—”
“Are you attempting to tell me what I can and can’t do? You better watch yourself instead of trying to watch my hand. I tell you what. Since you’ve lost all good sense, I no longer require you.”
The click of the call ending etched my decision in stone. These motherfuckers have gotten lazy and slack off my rule. They’re drunk on the billions I have brought into the treasury. Everyone would shit if they found out that many of those investments were birthed from conversations with Chione. I’m no fool. The shit is going to be thick when it becomes known that my choice is a black woman and that my heirs will be from the womb of a black woman instead of one of the women from the sands. Hell, they may even try to overthrow me because of this bullshit, which is why I have each of those fuckers tapped. A secret division of officials, soldiers keep track of everyone and everything on the downlow.
Whereas my father was diplomatic in his rule, I’ve inherited my ways from my grandfather. The old man had a silent hand moving behind the scenes that mowed down the opposition. With patience, he waited and smiled, luring those crazy enough to get comfortable off his generosity. However, in my mind, I always saw the man like a drug dealer. He took the time to get you dependent on his hand that feeds, only to retract that hand whenever you started slipping in your step. In doing so, he had constant, almost overzealous support. Shit, the desert is a harsh, unforgiving land. Without money and position, you are food for the beasts that prey upon the weak. At least, in America a person can come up. A story like that happening in my country, not so much.
If they make the mistake of taking my age, my slick smile, or my appeal with the media as a sign that I’m nothing like my grandfather, I’m ready to teach them. The words I spoke to Chione that night at her place wasn’t a lie. For over a year, I’ve been growing things. Changing the undercurrent. Making room for what’s coming next, which is why I played her game. I played the meek friend. However, school is in session. The roles, the bullshitting each other, talking in code, hinting off, but never acting upon things, is over. She’s aware of my title. Now, it’s time to put Sheikh Shahid on display who gets what he wants by any means. I meant it. Lie, cheat, kill, I never lose.
The house waking up is my cue to get my ass moving. Nodding as I enter the kitchen, I’m not hurt by the strange looks I get as I start pulling items out of the refrigerator.
“Sir, please let me,” begs the head cook.
I wave him away. “I’ll make her breakfast.”
His eyes blink rapidly at the meaning behind my response. Even now, I’m letting everyone know that Chione isn’t a mere fuck I kick it with whenever I am in town. Until now, the staff kept their distance, speaking only to Chione when needed. After this show of me coming off my perch to prepare her meal, that’s going to change. They will begin to memorize her likes and dislikes by watching her like a hawk. Many of them will introduce and engage her in conversation instead of ignoring her due to thinking she wasn’t worthy of their time. No, they want to be the first to learn her patterns and get into her good graces in hopes of becoming a part of her private staff before those in London get a chance to meet her.
“Will you be preparing the miss’ other meals?”
“Dinner.”
“Yes, sir. On the menu is stuffed mushrooms, lobster, Caesar Salad, and—”
“That’s all we’ll need for tonight. Skip all the other courses. Season her portion like the rest, then set it aside,” I instruct.
“Understood, sir.”
“Everyone out.” I don’t glance up from focusing on creating the perfect omelet. “Good morning, Father.” I beam.
“I thought the woman should prepare breakfast the next morning,” he teases.
“Jesus, Shahid, please tell me you left that girl alone last night,” whispers Ma as she sits in a stool on the other side of the island.
My arched eyebrow is my answer.
“You made a few calls this morning.”
My father wasn’t asking, so I don’t see the need to reply. As I said, I know all. I’m aware of who called and what has transpired on the frantic twenty-five-minute call that disrupted his workout.
“Is there something you want to tell me about Chione.”
I neither have the time nor do I give two fucks enough to explain myself to him.
“I’m hoping you aren’t planning to drag your feet on leaving. I really think Chione might be septic.”
Now, I lift my gaze to glare at my Ma. “Take blood samples. Call whatever lab you want to be on the lookout for them to test before we touch down. We’ll leave, tonight. Make sure you have everything set up for surgery. I want that arm amputated,” I order.
I read the worried expression creasing her loving face.
“Listen, she’ll get counseling after the shit is done. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll be alive. Period.”
Turning my back to both of them, I go about cooking Chione’s breakfast. Decision made. After a few more minutes of my father looming over my shoulder, he gets the message that I’m not going to discuss my matters with him. I have to remind myself that his heart is in the right place even though his nose is in the wrong one.
“Will your friend be coming to stand in the corner?”
I was wondering the same thing.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Tarif?”
“My Lord, being with that man has dulled your wit.” He sighs with a dramatic shake of his head.
“If you weren’t always trying to cut him out of the conversations, you—”
“I didn’t want to believe it, but it must be the sex ‘cause he isn’t on your level, Chioma,” interjects Father.
Quickly, Ma shuts her mouth. She’s too slow on the recovery, though. Cutting my eyes at Father, I see I wasn’t the only one to catch it.
“You haven’t had sex,” Father speaks in awe.
Dropping my eye to the plate, I hide my own amazement.
“He’s either gay or he’s hustling you,” accuses Father.
“Every man doesn’t have to test the milk before buying the cow,” snaps Ma in her defense.
“Yes, the fuck they do,” grunts Father while gawking at her.
I intentionally keep my gaze from meeting her pleading eyes for help. I have nothing to say, but I must agree. How the hell have they been dating for over eight months and sleeping together in the same room, but nothing has gotten hard in the process? Nah, bubby.
Not caring, I exit the kitchen to let the two go at it. On the way up the stairs, I nod a good morning to Cleveon on his way down. Glancing over my shoulder, I eye the man unexpectedly. I make a mental note to get the truth from Ma. If she continues to feed me bullshit, I’ll get a person on it. Once I know, I’ll decide if I should get rid of him permanently or not. I can’t have this man trying to get with my mother because he wants her connections. She might be relaxed in that area, but I’m no fool.
Shocked to find the bed empty, I scan the room as I enter further. “Chione!” I can’t help the worry from coloring my voice.
“I’m using the bathroom. I don’t need any help.”
“I made you breakfast,” I say while setting the tray of food on the bed.
“You mean the cook.”
I shake my head as if she could see me. To my surprise, I’m right because as I turn back from opening the curtains, I come face to face with a towel-clad Chione. She’s too busy rubbernecking the food to notice the frown on my face. It was by no mistake on my end to forget her clothes.
“You didn’t cook this, did you?”
“I know my pronouns.” I smirk.
“I took a cooking course to chase away boredom.”
“Lucky me,” she replies between mouthfuls.
“Good sleep?” I ask, warming up to what needs to be said.
“Did I snore?”
“Like a saw, mouth open and all,” I tease.
“Then it was good.”
“All right, so you’ll have a clear head for our talk. First off, what’s going to be your permanent name?”
“Well, I do like Chione.”
“Okay. A middle name?”
“Um…” She sighs in thought. “Jasmine is nice.” She shrugs.
“Good, I’ll give—”
“The last name,” she reminds me.
“In a few months it will be Rajput,” I explain nonchalantly.
If it wasn’t a serious moment, I would have laughed at the food that tumbled out of her slack-jawed mouth.
“Why you gotta fuck with me like this?” she whines.
“Can I fuck with you, Chione?” I tease in a heated whisper.
“Stop clowning around, Shahid. It’s not funny.”
“Why? Knowing I want you scares the shit out of you, right?”
“Yes! Now, you’re talking about marrying me. You’re crazy!”
“Why?”
“Well…well, you don’t know me,” she says.
“I don’t care about your people, ‘cause it’s obvious I won’t like them. I won’t talk shit about them, but Raymond’s told me enough. Your past, just as long as your twerking your ass for me, I don’t care.”
“But the world will,” she points out.
“I run my world, Chione. You need to get your head around that fact,” I respond.
“I’m not converting,” she spits back.
“You will honor my religion as you always have. Just keep your conviction behind closed doors with me alone, and all will be good,” I order.
Annoyed, Chione shoves the tray away. Fuming, she glares out the window. Licking her lips, she lowers her head. I’ll wait all day if that’s what it takes for her to come clean with her true fears.
“I’ll keep it real with you, Shahid. Yeah, women dream about a rich, handsome guy coming along to be their prince, but I’m not princess material. I’m not Meagan Markle, okay? I’m dark. My hair is straight depending on the quality of the bundles. I’m educated, I can play the part, but don’t get it twisted, I’m street when you catch me wrong. And…and, then there’s…” Unable to speak on the looming event to come, her words trail off. “I’m not doing that to you, Shahid. You’ve been too good to me,” she finishes with a pained smile.
Running my hands through my hair, I move to stand in front of her.
“I’m only saying this shit to you one more time, so you better connect. You wouldn’t be in this shit if you had gotten off your soap box last year and gave in to me. We would be married by now, and I wouldn’t be going without fuckin’ you either. You’re a killer or you were just talking shit. I don’t care. Two arms, one, whatever—I don’t care. Don’t ever compare yourself to another woman because you don’t know me to know what I like. If you did, you wouldn’t have wastedt my time trying to talk us out of being with each other. Your confidence is shaken. I get it, but don’t keep me from what I want, Chione.”
“What do you want?”
“Your heart isn’t it, Chione? Forget about all this,” I say with a wave in her direction.
She tears at her scalp with her good hand. I know that answer. However, like a dope head, she needs to admit it. Notching my eyebrow, I press her to speak up.
“I am so happy that you didn’t walk away from me. I didn’t want you to find me, but I really, really kinda wanted you to. I was so depressed when all this jumped off, I won’t lie. For months, I’ve been planning your stay because of the vibes you’ve been giving off, but—”
“No but, Chione. I don’t care. Now, let’s move on ‘cause I’m not going to keep repeating myself. My actions gotta speak from here on out, because I’m never addressing this right here again.”
Like it or not, my word was final. Pulling out my cell, I send a text to my ma calling her to the room for her test samples and then a quick one to Yas.
“Your papers will be ready today and we’re leaving, tonight,” I announce.
“Wow, so quick. Why so quick?” she demands, worried.
“Dr. O and my father spoke to me in the kitchen. They both fear that you might go septic if you stay attached to that arm.” On cue, Ma sweeps into the room with her bag. “Do you know what that means?”
“Yeah, I can die,” remarks Chione, fearfully. “So, the big chop is happening, huh?”
I read the remorse and then the understanding that fights its way to the surface.
CHIONE
Stuck on stupid. It’s a phrase I never use, but it’s all I got at the moment. Who is this man? I mean I know it’s Shahid. I just didn’t have a clue how he could be. He’s commanding the room, taking charge and shit while making calls. I’m sure a few times he’s had to put his old man in his place. He didn’t do it with a raised voice. No, he slips into Arabic to bitch the man out as his eyes dares his dad to say something. Cold as fuck. Sexy as hell. Can I add shocking to that list? I never really thought about the power Shahid actually holds. I can’t say for sure if he’s selling me wolf tickets. If you think about it, I don’t know why he would. I’m up for giving him a trip down the creamy express, if he wants it. After last night, my ass sure does.
I’ll tell you this, though: I’m not going to bring it up again to get chewed out by him. No matter what, I’m going to be riding with Shahid, at least for a while. I need his help for sure. What he’s buying I’m taking and what I can squirrel away, I will. I’m not dumb, kiddo. Things fall apart, moods change, hearts move on, and situations force people to wake the hell up. I’m a survivor, and I’ll overcome this too.
“How soon?”
By the look in Dr. O’s eyes, she knows what am asking.
“Tomorrow when we land, which is why I’m taking blood work to be sent ahead.”
I don’t react to her response. It’s an arm, a fucked-up, irreparable limb that I cursed touching or looking at. I’ll mourn it later.
“Have you gotten in contact with the neurosurgeon?”
My eyes dart over to Shahid.
“Your arm will be state of the art, the best,” he promises. “Nerves will be grafted to the inside of your upper arm. Just like you think to move your right hand, that’s all it will take for your new one,” he explains before giving his mother his attention for his answer.
“He’ll be ready. I’m sorry to admit it, but this is exciting,” she gushes. Digging in her bag she pulls out a tablet. “He sent me a link to a video showing off the prosthetic.”
I wait as she stabs a tablet to get the show started. I can barely keep up with her talking and what I’m seeing on the 7-inch screen.
“You can pick how it looks, of course. It can be more human like with latex skin or go for the Terminator or I Robot look. You’ll be scanned first before surgery. It only takes 42 hours for the 3D printer to make, about two days of training once you’re ready to begin using it.”
Call me crazy. Maybe I’m catching the excitement coming off of Dr. O, but I’m really digging this. Of course, I could be mind fuckin’ myself to handle it all. Then again, I doubt it. It’s the excitement of realizing that I’m not alone in all of this.
Swallowing hard, I fight to keep my voice from craking. “Thank you,” I respond casting my gaze on Shahid.
“As my wife, you are entitled to the best as you deserve anyway.”
The mood in the room changes along with the oxygen levels when Dr. O sucks it out of the room.
“Let me be the first to say congratulations.” Dr. O beams, standing up.
“In time, right?”
Ah, I caught that. The cutting of the e
yes on Tarif, the chomping down on Shahid’s teeth.”
“If you brought this same energy to getting rid of Cleveon, you might be fuckin’ Chioma.”
Dropping that shoe was all it took to shut this shit down. I fight to act as if I didn’t hear a thing going on between son and father.
“You can head home if you think you won’t be of service to me,” suggests Shahid.
Goddamn! Did he just reduce his father to his do boy? Cold as fuck, he just pulled rank. I’m clueless to what the wicked, twisted grin on Tarif’s face is all about.
“To service is what I am here for.” Tarif nods.
Shahid narrows his eyes, warning the old man, but says nothing more.
“Go get your shit in order,” he huffs at last with a dismissive wave of his hand at them both.
“Are you two always bumping heads?”
“I honestly don’t know what to call the games my old man plays. My throne isn’t in jeopardy. He’s young enough that he could have still reigned,” replies Shahid.
“So, why did he give it up?”
“He wanted to live his life. There are certain things he wanted. For him, he believed he couldn’t have it all,” he admits.
Tilting my head, it takes a minute for me to understand. My mouth forms a big “O” that has Shahid staring as he shifts his dick.
“He’s jonesing for the doctor,” I whisper. Leaning in, I want all the tea. “I picked up on the sexual tension. Oh, shit, but she has a man, right?”
All he does is roll his eyes. “Something’s up with that. I’ll make sure you meet him, and you’ll see,” he promises.
I’m struggling to get to my feet in hopes of meeting this dude.
“You can go be nosey later. Right now, you have appointments to keep.”
Okay, that sounds good to me too. I notice how he doesn’t run to help me stand. He’s letting me find my own way.
Sweet Jesus, this is really happening!
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A Desert King's Obsession Page 13
