“Promise me,” King Khalid said, sounding as if he were already taking his last breath.
“Don’t worry about that now. This world is no longer your concern.”
“Promise me, Wasim.” The words came out stronger but by his wheezing breaths, it was clear they had taken a lot of energy.
Wasim bowed his head. If he made this deathbed promise, he couldn’t go back on his word. “I cannot make that decision for her.”
“Wasim…convince her to marry soon.” A rattling sound filled the back of King Khalid’s throat.
Wasim quickly lifted his head and blinked back tears. “I will. We will be married soon.” He tightened his fingers around his father’s hand, as if by doing so he could keep the old man with him a little bit longer.
“I…” King Khalid’s voice faded to a whisper, and Wasim watched the light dim in his eyes.
He leaned close to his father’s ear and whispered, in a voice thick with sorrow, “I testify that there is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.”
The phone rang beside her bed, and Imani hopped up from the chair by the window and darted to it. She set down the novel she’d been using as a distraction ever since Wasim had called to tell her King Khalid had taken a turn for the worst.
Reluctantly, she set aside her glasses and picked up the phone. It was Wasim, and already her heart couldn’t take the news she was certain he would convey.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Imani.”
His voice sounded hoarse, and her heart broke into little pieces for him. Tears welled in her eyes.
“His Excellency King Khalid of the Kingdom of Barrakesch is no longer with us.”
His pain reached across the line and snared Imani’s heart in a tight fist. “I’m sorry, Wasim.”
They knew this day was coming, yet it was still so unbearably painful. She was hurting so much because of her relationship with the king and his kindness to her. How much harder must it be for Wasim and the rest of the family to bear such a loss?
“Subhanallah.” Wasim spoke in the same pained voice.
“Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un,” Imani whispered. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
They said their goodbyes, and Imani took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Doreen quietly entered and stood in the middle of the room, her dark eyes searching Imani’s face. “Ambassador, is everything all right?”
“King Khalid has passed,” Imani replied.
Doreen’s eyes opened wide and her lips slightly parted. “Oh no.” She covered her mouth with her left hand, and tears filled her eyes.
They had expected his death, but that didn’t make the news any less devastating.
“When you speak to Prince Wasim again, please convey my condolences to him and his family.”
“I will,” Imani promised.
She heard the evening call to prayer through a loudspeaker from the minaret tower of the nearest mosque. The melodic sound had never been so haunting as it was right now, and heaviness filled her heart that the Barrakeschi people had lost their beloved leader today.
With King Khalid dead, Wasim would immediately ascend the throne and become the country’s ruler. He would be very busy, not only taking on the role of king, but getting ready for the funeral. Burial would probably take place within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
Imani called her family in Zamibia and gave them the news. Minutes later, she went downstairs to her home office and pulled out cards and stationery. Then she began the painful task of handwriting messages to members of the royal family expressing her condolences.
12
Imani entered the administrative offices of The Grand White Palace, but her steps faltered as she anticipated the conversation with Wasim. He’d asked her to come here for a meeting because, according to him, they needed to talk about “next steps” now that the mourning period was over.
Since women didn’t attend funerals and burials, the last time she saw him was on television for the service over a week before. It had been a grand affair—if funerals could be called grand. With only twenty-four hours’ notice, world leaders, mostly from Arab nations, came to pay their last respects to the great king. The day after, because King Khalid had presided over the armed forces, there had been a military salute and fighter planes flown overhead.
Talibah, who had been notified she was on her way up, approached when Imani stepped off the elevator in the outer office. Today she wore a dark brown abaya and vibrant red hijab accessorized with a lovely red and gold pin on the right side.
“Hello, Ambassador. How are you?”
“Fine, and you?”
“Doing well, thank you. His Excellency is wrapping up a meeting. I’ve already told him you’re here, so he shouldn’t be much longer. Would you like something to drink while you wait—water, tea?”
At first, Imani had been taken aback by the honorific Talibah used, and then she remembered that Wasim was now king and had taken on the full title to go with his role as ruler.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
She sat on the sofa and while she waited, thumbed through emails she hadn’t read yet. Only ten minutes later, two men dressed in suits came into the outer office, said a few words to Talibah, and then went on their way.
Talibah called back to Wasim, and after she hung up, smiled. “His Excellency will see you now,” she said.
Imani took the long walk to his new office, the sound of her heels providing a gentle thump on the floor, which was covered in white tile edged with gold. The white walls were also painted with intricate gold designs that reached up to the high ceiling, and the combination of those colors made the entire place seem as if it glowed.
At the end of the hall, two men in traditional dress stood outside the double doors of Wasim’s office. The gorgeous twenty-foot doors were made of a rich, dark wood where a local artist had carved scenes depicting ancient times in the country. At the very top, etched into the wall, was the image of a gold falcon, which appeared as if it was peering down at her as she approached.
Both men opened the doors simultaneously and Imani waltzed through. Wasim stood behind a massive wood desk that looked long enough to accommodate three people working behind it. His dark suit, dark tie and shirt, gave him a somber appearance that matched the grim expression on his face.
So much had changed. He was now king, and today they’d discuss how to bring their relationship to a close. She’d even thought of an idea on the way over. They could say that since he was caught up in the day-to-day responsibilities of being a new king, their relationship fell apart, which wasn’t far-fetched.
“Imani,” he said with a nod.
“Hello, Wasim.”
The expression on his face was almost more than she could bear. There were tension lines around his mouth and a hint of hollowness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well.
She walked over to the desk. “How are you?” she asked gently.
“I’ve been better.” A brief smile crossed his lips.
“I hope you know that I’m here for you, if you need me. I’ve said that before, and I mean it.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Wasim took a deep breath and appeared uncertain about how to proceed. Uncertainty was not an emotion she was used to seeing in him. She decided to help him along.
“I know you have important issues to take care of, so this conversation only has to take a few minutes. You were right to call this meeting because I’ll only be in Barrakesch for a few more days, and the new ambassador arrives on Monday. What are your thoughts on how we should proceed with…” Imani glanced back at the open doors and lowered her voice. “Our relationship.”
No emotion showed on his face. “I’ve thought about that a lot since my father died.”
“And…how do you want to end this?” The words were more difficult to speak than she’d expected.
/> “Let’s talk over here.”
They walked along the expanse of the wall to the end where floor to ceiling windows overlooked the courtyard. Imani sat down, but Wasim remained standing.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said.
“Okay,” she said slowly.
He slipped one hand into his trouser pocket and walked slowly in front of the window. His profile was a study in deep concentration before he faced her again. “You saw how excited our families were when they learned we were ready for marriage. Everyone thinks we’re compatible and a perfect match. And I agree. I think we should get married. To each other.”
Imani let out a startled laughed. “What?”
His expression didn’t change, which made her laughter seem completely out of place. She immediately sobered.
“Have you never thought about it? You and me? You can’t deny there is something between us. We can build on that.”
Imani’s heart raced, and she licked suddenly dry lips. Had he really just offered her marriage? She didn’t want to reveal how deeply attracted she was to him and the way he made her skin tingle without touching her.
That night in Estoria had upended her world in an unexpected way. She’d always had a bit of a crush on Wasim, but they’d only ever been friends. Good friends. She appreciated all his help when she had become the ambassador to their country. But what he was suggesting was outside the parameters of their friendship.
“Marriage is a serious undertaking. It shouldn’t be entered into lightly, so sexual chemistry is not enough. We don’t even know if we would enjoy each other.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that we would enjoy each other,” he said, eyes turning intense.
Imani felt that look as surely as if he’d touched her—wrapping his hand around her neck again and plowing her skin with kisses. The temperature in the room went up several notches, and she resettled on the sofa.
“I’m not Muslim, which would be a problem for the conservative members of your government. And I want to marry for love. You know that.”
“And I have to get married.”
He didn’t have to tell her what was coming next. She already knew how royal families worked and the importance of having an heir to continue the family’s lineage. She bent her head as unexpected pain twisted inside her at the thought of Wasim finding a wife and starting a family in the not-too-distant future.
She stood. “I came here today expecting you to tell me you’ve thought of a way for us to dissolve this fake engagement. You have what you wanted, your birthright. Your father chose you as his successor. There’s no reason for us to be tied even more deeply together.”
“I think a marriage could work between us.”
“No.”
A muscle in his hard jaw tightened. “You’re not even going to consider it?”
“There’s nothing to consider.”
“Well then, we have a problem, because I promised my father you and I would get married right away.”
He said the sentence so flippantly she gawked at him. “What!”
“You heard me.”
“Pick someone else.”
Wasim took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. “I promised my father on his deathbed that I would marry you.”
“And that’s the only reason, because of a promise?” She swallowed the tightness in her throat but didn’t wait for him to answer because she didn’t want to hear him say yes. “I can’t do it. We’re not in love.”
“Love can come later.”
“That’s your idea of a perfect marriage. Not mine.”
“Would you have me disappoint my father?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“You made that promise, not me!” Imani hissed. “Getting married was not part of the deal.” She didn’t want to be married to a man only to fulfill a promise to his dead father.
“Think about this. You would become the queen of an entire nation. You would have anything your heart desires, you only have to say the word and it would happen. Is that not better than your businessman?” He sneered the last sentence.
Imani’s back went rigid. “We’ve already established that this marriage wouldn’t work.”
“You did, using religion as an excuse.”
“That’s a legitimate concern.”
“Not for me.”
“Because you’re a king and wouldn’t have to convert to another religion.”
“I wouldn’t require you to cover to Islam. We’ve already established that.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.” Imani folded her arms over her chest. This conversation had not gone at all how she had expected. “You’re living in a fantasy world if you think a marriage between us could work. There are already rumblings from the conservative factions in the Parliament about us being together. They would be happy for us to split, and it would be a nightmare if we got married.”
“As king, I have the power to dissolve the Parliament and start all over.”
“That is a drastic, disruptive step, and you know it. The last time it was done was by your grandfather, and he did so to root out corruption.”
His eyes flashed in annoyance. “Then believe this. You are a beloved ambassador from an allied nation. There are plenty of Zamibians living here that it’s not so strange that you and I would marry. We’ve already established that we’re engaged. One more step, and we’d be married. But there would be much more. A connection where our countries protected each other, exchanged ideas, promoted education together. Zamibia would have a foothold into the Gulf region, and we would have a foothold into Africa. Our partnership could strengthen our position on the world stage and protect our interests—economic and otherwise. This would be the perfect alliance between our countries.”
Imani looked down at her fingers. His words wrecked her. To think she’d thought for one minute that he’d seen her as more than a friend. She couldn’t consider his proposal. Not once had he mentioned having feelings for her, respecting her, cherishing her. Love was not a concern of his. All he cared about was an alliance and fulfilling a promise.
She looked him dead in his eyes. “A political alliance is not what I envisioned for my life. I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I wish you would reconsider. We could make this work.”
“No, we can’t. To marry you would mean being in the worst kind of relationship I could imagine.”
“The worst?”
“Yes. A loveless marriage with a powerful man. No, thank you.” Imani’s voice turned frigid. “You think that you can arrange a marriage and have it work out fine. I, on the other hand, find the old way distasteful. Romance, falling in love, courting—those are the things that I envision as part of my journey to marriage. If I can’t have that, then I don’t want it. I won’t be tethered to someone, miserable, because we look good on paper. So now we’re at a stalemate. How do you want to proceed with the dissolution of our relationship?”
His eyes turned icy. “I think we should wait. Until you’ve had time to think.” He spoke with no inflection in his voice.
“There’s nothing to think about. I’ve made my decision.”
“Still, I’ll give you time.” He walked back toward the desk.
“I won’t change my mind.”
“If you say so.”
“I mean it. Never.”
“Never say never to me, habibti. You know how I love a challenge, and you know that I always win.”
She glared at the back of his head and followed with her heels hitting the tile loud and strong. They both stopped at the desk, but he’d slipped a mask of emotionless calm on his features.
“I leave in three days,” she whispered fiercely so the men outside couldn’t hear.
“Then you have three days to reconsider,” Wasim said coolly.
“You’re already drunk with power.” Imani stepped back. “Goodbye, Wasim. When you figure out how you want to end this, let me know.” She stalked away.
“You’ll change your mind,” she heard him mutter.
She swung around and looked at him one more time, standing in front of the window in a three-piece suit, well-coiffed and confident. Wasim was a critical thinker. Behind the smiles and charm and gregarious personality was a ruthless negotiator who had expanded the wealth he’d inherited through the accumulation of real estate and other riches around the world. For a moment his confidence rattled her.
Then she straightened her spine, glared at him for good measure, and continued her power-walk out the door.
If he thought she’d change her mind about his ridiculous “offer,” he had another think coming.
13
After Imani left, Wasim sat in his chair and stared at the closed doors.
Was the idea of marrying him so horrible? They knew each other. They had chemistry. They could both do worse.
Could there be another reason for her not wanting to marry him? Could she seriously be considering the man she’d told him about?
He picked up the phone and found the photo of the Senegalese man named Abdou. He’d had someone on his staff look him up. Well off but not wealthy, never married before, and a reputation of being kind. Imani knew this man and had chosen him over the other one her parents preferred.
Wasim’s eyes rolled over his features. He was definitely handsome, looking more like a model than a businessman, with his high cheekbones and thick lips all covered in flawless ebony skin. Wasim tossed aside the phone.
He couldn’t let Imani go. He’d made a promise, and besides, he wanted her. She was the ideal. The woman he’d been waiting for had been right in front of him all along. Now it was his job to show her that he was the man she’d been looking for.
The prince among the toads.
But that would take time. Until then, some arm-twisting would be required. She would hate him at first, but what he planned had to be done. Not only because of a promise to his father. Not only because their union created a powerful alliance, but because he’d tasted heaven on her lips.
Queen of Barrakesch Page 8
