Queen of Barrakesch Read online

  Wasim was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Through commercials.”

  “Commercials?” Imani raised up on one elbow.

  “Yes. Film the women and the girls, and air the commercials on television. Let them tell the whole country how much the program helps them by giving examples. Then present the needs of the budget. Not every member will be swayed, but it’s a good way to pressure the dissenting members of the body to get them to do the right thing, without actually pressuring them.”

  “That’s sneaky.”

  “Sometimes you have to be sneaky.”

  “Okay, but I don’t know if Yasmin has money to do commercials. I have to check with her.”

  “If she doesn’t, we’ll find the money from somewhere. There are multiple miscellaneous accounts, or we could shift the money from another program. We’ll figure it out.” His eyes were indulgent as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face.

  “Thank you,” Imani said.

  “I’m not doing you a favor. It’s the right thing to do.” He studied her face. “You have something to say?”

  Imani wanted to sort through the words before she spoke. Finally, she said, “I have a very odd relationship with my father. He loves me, but he treats me like I don’t matter. Like my ideas are silly—noble, but silly. And why would a woman have to worry about independence when she can have a man take care of her?”

  “And you don’t want a man to take care of you?”

  “I can take care of myself, and it’s nice to be seen as an equal. But it’s nice to have a supportive hand.”

  “Never worry about that. You will always have my support.”

  Satisfied, Imani rested her head atop his shoulder, happier than she had been in a very long time.

  23

  Imani felt the mattress depress as Wasim climbed in behind her. He had already stripped down to his boxers. His bare arms and chest enveloped her in warm, golden skin.

  “You never sleep in your apartment anymore,” she murmured, tucking her bottom into the vee created by his hips and legs.

  He slid a knee between hers. “I like it better in here. Everything is soft and smells so good.” He caressed her breasts under the silk nightie and nipped her neck.

  Imani laughed softly. “I’m glad you like what you find in here.”

  Most nights over the past few weeks, Wasim had slept in her bedroom. The only times he hadn’t was when he worked late and didn’t want to disturb her when he came in.

  Over the past couple of days, they’d played host to the President of the United States and her husband. A formal dinner had taken place the first night and another one this evening, which wrapped up later than expected. Imani and the president’s husband had retired to bed, leaving Wasim and the president to continue their conversation. She hadn’t expected him to come to her tonight, but she was pleased that he’d broken away early enough to join her in bed.

  “The only event on the agenda tomorrow is the breakfast, correct?” Imani asked, yawning.

  “Yes, then another photo op, and then the president meets with other officials before she flies out in the afternoon.”

  They were quiet for a few minutes and then Imani said, “I saw Yasmin singing to her baby today. She has such a beautiful voice.” Yasmin was now almost seven months pregnant.

  “My mother used to sing to us all the time,” Wasim said quietly.

  It was so rare that Imani heard him talk about his mother, her eyes popped open and she went still, waiting for more information. When he didn’t continue, she said, “Tell me more about her.”

  He resettled at her back and when he spoke, she heard the smile in his voice. “She was happy all the time. She used to chase Yasmin and I around the palace and played with us and kissed us often. I can’t remember her ever raising her voice at me. She might get annoyed or wag a finger, but she always remained so…sweet.”

  Imani smiled. “I take it she wasn’t the disciplinarian.”

  “No. That role belonged to my father. My mother soothed our fears, kissed our bruises, and comforted us when we were sad.”

  “How did she die?”

  “She drowned.”

  “I know that, but how?” Imani asked gently. She played with the tip of one of his fingers.

  “On one of my family’s yachts in the Mediterranean. She and my father had decided to slip away for some private time without me and Yasmin for a change. My mother left first, and he planned to meet her later because he had to take care of some business. The night he was to arrive, somehow she fell over into the water. None of the staff knew it happened, and she couldn’t swim.”

  Imani chest tightened as she listened.

  “Not one person knew she was missing. Can you believe that? A yacht with over a hundred crew members, and not one damn person knew she was gone until my father’s helicopter landed that night and they couldn’t find her.” Rage simmered in his voice. “He was devastated. We were devastated. When he returned, he fired everyone on that boat.”

  “I’m so sorry, but thank you for sharing that with me,” Imani whispered. She clutched his hand to her chest.

  “That’s what I want for my children. A woman who clearly loves kids.”

  “I love kids,” Imani said.

  He pulled her closer. “Then lucky for you, you’ll be the mother of my children.”

  “Lucky for me, huh?”

  “Mhmm. Are you still going to Zamibia in a few weeks?” He threaded their fingers together.

  “Yes. They’ve finalized some of the staff and managers for the oil rig, and I want to check out the office they have set up in the village on the coast.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. I’m sure you’ll whip them into shape if the work isn’t up to standard,” Wasim murmured, sounding sleepy.

  “I’ll do my best.” Imani smiled and snuggled deeper into his arms.

  Wasim sat cross-legged on the floor at the traditional Barrakeschi restaurant with Farouk and Akmal. It was Saturday night, and Akmal had rented out the entire restaurant and called the impromptu meeting because he complained that the three of them hadn’t spent any time together in a while.

  Farouk had finally closed the Hilton deal, so celebrating was an additional good reason for them to get together. So far, their conversation had been the usual as they caught up in each other’s lives.

  But out of the blue, Akmal said, “The old men are still not pleased that you married Imani.”

  Wasim briefly eyed his brother across the table, and it dawned on him that this was the real reason he’d wanted to get together.

  He knew about the concerns of the conservative faction of the Parliament. He’d heard the whispers from the beginning, that he was marrying an “outsider,” a coded word that meant Imani wasn’t Muslim. For those members, his decision to marry her was another example of his progressive ways, but they knew better than to make those comments to his face.

  He’d never told Imani about the negative rumblings, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she was aware of their displeasure. Only because King Khalid had approved of their marriage before his death had the entire process gone so well and there hadn’t been any protests.

  And what could they do now anyway? She and he were married, and she was part of this family.

  He picked up a circle of grilled eggplant with a dollop of labneh and olive oil on it. “The old men will soon be dead and replaced by younger men. Their opinions matter very little to me.”

  “You’re not concerned at all?” Farouk asked.

  “Why should I be? We’re married, and there’s nothing anyone outside of the two of us can do to change that.”

  A look passed between both men.

  “What does that look mean?” Wasim asked immediately.

  Akmal smirked. “Are you in love with your wife?” He said the words as if they were an accusation.

  Imani had seen marriage as a lifelong commitment to the person you love. Not a lifelong commitment to the perso
n you might fall in love with, and their differing views had certainly presented a challenge.

  But Wasim had only recently come to admit his love for her, to himself. He hadn’t said a word to anyone else, and certainly not to her, yet. Their affection for each other had blossomed and grown, but that didn’t mean these intense emotions he now experienced were reciprocated.

  He could even admit that getting her to marry him was more self-serving than he originally acknowledged. When he’d lost his father, he’d used that as an excuse to hold onto her. To hold onto her laughter, her unmatched beauty, and adventurous spirit. He’d needed her and losing her had presented itself as an obstacle to be overcome by any means necessary.

  “And if I am?” he asked.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Akmal said. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  “Spoken like a man who would do anything for his wife,” Farouk added.

  “And I would,” Wasim confirmed.

  “How does she feel about you?”

  He decided to be honest. “That, I don’t know, but I think she’s getting there. We’re happy, at least.”

  “Well, look at us. Three happily married men. We should drink to that.” Akmal held up his Coke and Wasim and Farouk touched their glasses against his. “To our wives.”

  “To our lives,” Farouk and Wasim repeated.

  Then all three men laughed.

  24

  Wasim finished dictating a letter and then deposited the file into the drive for Talibah to retrieve later. As he clicked out of the program, the phone on his desk rang.

  “Her Royal Highness Queen Imani is on her way back to the palace and should be here in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you. I’ll wrap up and meet her upstairs.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  He hung up and quickly reviewed a few more files. He’d promised Imani to take a break and have dinner with her tonight. Tomorrow night he had an administrative meeting that would certainly last through dinner, and she left for Zamibia the next day.

  He logged off the computer and then exited the office. “Go home, Talibah,” he said on the way out.

  His assistant smiled and nodded, but he guessed if he came back down later, she’d still be at her desk.

  He took the elevator to the sixth floor, where Imani met him in the large, open entrance wearing a purple abaya with white and lavender detailing on the sleeves, her hair loose and curling in a sexy way beside her cheeks, and a smile on her face.

  “How was your day?” She tipped up her head, and he dropped a kiss to her puckered lips.

  “Long, busy.” Better now that he saw her.

  They seldom saw each other during the day because of their busy schedules filled with meetings and various tasks. Imani also traveled outside of the palace more often than he did. Because of her charitable work and the organizations she supported, she had to remain visible and took lots of photographs because her image was needed to generate publicity.

  One of the projects, the Women & Girls Literacy Initiative she had worked on with Yasmin, received the additional funding it needed after they followed his advice and ran a well-thought-out advertising campaign on television and extended their efforts to billboards across the cities and in the countryside.

  He’d become better attuned to her moods, as well. He distinctly remembered a conversation they’d had only last week.

  Imani’s name popped up on the LCD screen of Wasim’s personal phone.

  “Hello? Is everything okay?” he asked. It was unusual for her to call him at work in the middle of the day.

  “Yes, yes, I just…”

  “You just what…?” Wasim asked.

  “Nothing. I’m not even sure why I called.” She let out an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Imani.”

  “Yes?”

  He quickly glanced at his open calendar on the computer. “Have lunch with me today. We’ll go to that Indian restaurant in the old part of town. The one you like and claim you introduced me to, but I seriously doubt.”

  “I did introduce you to it.”

  “If you say so. Are you free?”

  “Are you sure you’re not too busy?” she asked, her voice full of hesitation.

  “I’m not too busy for you.”

  “If we go, we’ll have to make arrangements now so security can sweep the area before we arrive.”

  “I’ll take care of that.”

  “Okay. Twelve o’clock?” Her voice became more upbeat.

  “Twelve-thirty works better. Meet me downstairs at that time.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

  “How was your day?” Wasim asked.

  “Interesting,” Imani said with a little smile on her face, like she had a secret.

  “Oh?” Wasim trailed her out to the balcony where a feast had already been set. Jugs of juice and covered dishes filled the table, stoking his appetite.

  It was nice to have someone else take care of the details, look out for his well-being, and in general, welcome him home.

  He now understood why his father had never fully recovered after his mother’s sudden death. When you love someone the way he had loved her, how could you possibly recover if you lost them? They weren’t only a part of your life, they were part of you. You could never be whole again when part of you was missing. And all the little things, the details, took on a more profound meaning.

  “Have a seat,” Imani said, pointing to the chair at the head of the table.

  “What are you up to?” Wasim asked as he sat down.

  “You’ll see.” Imani sat down across his thighs with the secretive smile still on her face. “At first I was worried about what I have to tell you, but then I thought, why worry? We’re in a good place, right?”

  “Of course. We have been for a while, and better than I expected.” He was now very curious to hear what she had to say.

  Imani nodded. “Good.” She took a deep breath and then lifted the dome off one of the dishes. Instead of meat or rice or potatoes, there was an envelope inside.

  Wasim frowned, watching as she removed it and took out a grainy photo. His mouth fell open.

  All smiles, Imani beamed at him with glowing dark eyes.

  “Is this what I think it is?” he asked in awe.

  Imani nodded, her smile widening. “We’re going to have a baby in seven months.”

  She barely got the words out before he clutched her face in his hands and gave her a sound kiss, devouring her lips as his heart filled with joy. When he finally released her, Imani laughed and bit her bottom lip.

  “I guess you’re happy?”

  “I couldn’t be happier. I…” Wasim was so overcome that for a moment he could barely speak. They were going to be parents. He rested his forehead against hers. “Imani…habibti, hayati, rohi.” She was the most important person in his life.

  “Wasim,” she whispered, voice trembling, tears shimmering in her eyes.

  He cradled her face in his hands. “You are my everything, and now you wish to give me even more. I love you.”

  For so long he’d held in the words, knowing that his strong feelings for her might not be reciprocated because she’d told him that day when she finally agreed to marry him that she’d never love him. Those words echoed in his head at the most inopportune times, casting doubt in the middle of their happy union. But those words had been said in anger, and he believed her feelings had changed. Looking at her excitement at the prospect of them having a child together, he knew they had.

  “Moni fey-eh,” she whispered back in Mbutu, her tribal tongue. She had told him that she loved him, too.

  They indulged in a slow, sensual kiss and then she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Do you still have to leave?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid so. The plans have been made, but I won’t be gone long. Less than a week.”

  “A lifetime.” Wasim placed a hand on her
flat belly and imagined the life growing there.

  “I’ll miss you, too. It’ll be the longest time we’ve been apart since our ceremony. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

  25

  I miss you already.

  Imani sent the text to Wasim and sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she waited for his response. She didn’t have long to wait. Only a few minutes later, he texted back: Don’t make me come get you.

  She let out a soft laugh and sent a quick I love you text. He texted back the same, and then she slipped the phone into her bag.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she gazed out at the passing scenery of golden sand interrupted by tufts of green foliage on the long road from Kabatra to the private airport where the royal plane awaited her arrival.

  Saying I love you came much easier than she had expected and would become easier still in the coming weeks as they grew more and more comfortable with each other. She thought back to how their marriage had initially started and marveled at how far they had come as a couple. Wasim had been right all along. Love could come after. Or in their case, had it been there all along? She’d certainly had feelings for him, and based on their conversations, he’d always had feelings for her.

  The limo slowed to a crawl, and Imani turned her attention to the scene playing out in front of them. The SUV carrying four members of her security detail slowed to a stop to let an old farmer with stooped shoulders lead his sheep across the roadway. Not an unusual site in this part of the country, and they had left early enough that time was on their side.

  The driver, an older man with deep wrinkles carved into his face that made him look older than he was, met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Not too much longer, Your Highness.”

  Imani waved away any concern that she might be annoyed. “We have plenty of time, and he’s simply doing his job.”

  She let her mind wander to the upcoming trip. She couldn’t wait to tell her parents, especially her mother, that she was pregnant. Benu would be excited about becoming a grandmother and would no doubt start planning some type of celebratory event to commemorate her pregnancy at a later date, after she’d been pregnant for a few months.