Queen of Barrakesch Page 9

  Call it obsession, infatuation, compulsion—he didn’t care about the label. All he knew was that Imani belonged with him, and he’d be damned if he let another man have her.

  Hands on her hips. Imani surveyed her downstairs office. The shelves were empty, and all of her office supplies and files were in boxes stacked around the room. After six years she was finally leaving Barrakesch for good.

  Her heart was heavy, but she’d accomplished a lot and was proud of her record. She had shown that she was more than a pretty face. She had shown that being a woman did not limit her accomplishments to getting married and having a family.

  The cultural exchange program she created between Barrakesch and Zamibia allowed young women the opportunity to live and work in either country for six months to a year by pairing them with roommates in the host country. The program fostered understanding across the cultures and provided work experience that could be used to gain employment in a variety of industries.

  She had also created the women’s trade initiative, which set aside a certain number of opportunities for women-owned Zamibian cottage industries, such as organic cosmetics made by hand and textile-making. That program was so successful that it went beyond Barrakesch’s borders to include contacts she made in other Gulf states. And thanks to her cousin-in-law Dahlia, opportunities to sell looked promising in the United States, as well.

  She’d worked on many more projects, but her greatest accomplishment was soon to come. She would be responsible for ironing out the details of the oil drilling project. A monumental deal that would add to the GDP of the Zamibian people for generations. By working with Barrakesch, they were able to keep most of the money inside the country instead of working with outsiders more interested in lining their own pockets. Billions of dollars in coming years—trillions! She couldn’t count that high.

  Imani strolled over to the desk and smoothed her fingertips over its empty surface. That all sounded great, except she hadn’t yet heard from Wasim and worried that their confrontation could adversely affect the agreement. Surely he wouldn’t cancel it altogether, but he could delay signing the contract out of anger.

  King Khalid should have signed the agreement, but the delays with the environmental commission had pushed back the date, and now the contracts sat on Wasim’s desk, the new king. The new king who was angry with her.

  Surely he wouldn’t let their disagreement keep him from signing it. After all, the joint venture benefited Barrakesch, too. They would receive a percentage of the oil revenues for a long time, simply for helping.

  Her mobile phone rang and she picked it up. When she saw Yasmin’s name, her face immediately broke into a smile.

  “Hi, Yasmin,” she said upon answering.

  “Wasim told me you’re leaving tomorrow. Is that true?” She sounded hurt.

  “Yes, I’m going back to Zamibia. Remember, my post is up and the new ambassador arrives in a few days.”

  “I knew your post was up, but I assumed you’d stay since you and Wasim are getting married.”

  “Um, right now Wasim is busy getting settled into his role as king, and we haven’t discussed a wedding date or made final plans yet.”

  Yasmin sighed. “Yes, he’s very busy. I worry about the hours he’s been putting in lately, but I know it must be done. As for the two of you, I hope you don’t delay too long. I’m looking forward to having you as my sister-in-law. I want us to work together. Your enthusiasm for woman-focused projects are exactly what I need to help me with some of the charities I oversee. You and I could do a lot together, for both girls and women in the country.”

  Yasmin was a strong voice for women and children, and her work was not limited to Barrakesch. She was also a UNICEF regional ambassador who worked tirelessly on behalf of children’s rights.

  “Thank you, Yasmin.” Her heart hurt a little bit at the thought that she wouldn’t get to work on the projects with her because there would be no wedding.

  “Keep in touch. Please,” Yasmin said.

  “I will. Take care, and thanks for calling.”

  Imani hung up the phone, feeling nostalgic and restless. She went out to the patio and recalled the last time she sat out there with Wasim. They’d shared dinner and talked about what they were looking for in a future spouse. Seemed like that conversation happened ages ago, but little more than a month had passed.

  “Ambassador?”

  Imani turned to face Vilma.

  “A package arrived for you.”

  Imani reentered the office and took the envelope. “Thank you.” As Vilma left, she tore it open.

  When she saw the contents, her heart did a nosedive in her chest. The letter was written on the official letterhead of the King of Barrakesch.

  Subject: Oil drilling joint venture between the Kingdoms of Barrakesch and Zamibia.

  Her fingers tightened on the trembling sheet when she read the first sentence of the first paragraph. The project has been indefinitely delayed.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He’d done exactly what she’d feared.

  14

  The doors were barely opened before Imani swung through them and marched over to Wasim’s desk. He didn’t look up when she entered, as if he didn’t hear her or know she was coming, when they both knew no one entered his offices without being announced first.

  He continued writing with his head bent over some document. His indifference further inflamed her anger and she slammed the contract on the desk in front of him and received a small spurt of satisfaction when he jumped. He hadn’t been expecting that.

  “How dare you delay the signing!” she said.

  “Lower. Your. Voice.” His voice seethed with anger.

  “I will not!” Imani slammed her hands on top of the contracts again. “We worked on this for over a year. All you have to do is sign it.”

  He tossed a dismissive glance at the papers and then met her gaze. “I’m a very busy man. I have other responsibilities now and don’t have time to review those documents. When I have time, I will, but I don’t know when that will be. Could be in three days, three months, or three years from now.”

  Imani straightened with her hands clenched at her sides. “You’re despicable.”

  “Are you going to spend all day paying me compliments?”

  “That wasn’t a compliment, you ass.” He arched a brow, and she immediately regretted the remark. She was here to get him to change his mind, and insulting him would probably not do that. She shifted tactic. “Kofi is your best friend and the Kingdom of Zamibia is depending on you to sign this agreement.”

  “The Kingdom of Zamibia delayed the process several times. I believe it is your environmental commission that put you in this tough spot. Besides, I’m sure Kofi will understand when he finds out I couldn’t get to signing the agreement because my father just died. He will be disappointed but understanding, since the mourning period has only recently passed.”

  She felt a slight twinge of guilt when he pointed out that his father just died, but she quickly dismissed it because that was a false explanation and they both knew it.

  “Is this you now? You’ll be a fantastic king.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to a long rule.”

  She’d never seen him so dismissive of her feelings and while sarcasm and witty remarks had been common in their relationship, he’d never behaved like this with her before.

  “This is beneath you, Wasim,” Imani whispered, hoping to appeal to his softer side.

  “Wanting to marry you is beneath me?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Forcing my hand.”

  He lowered his voice. “Everyone expects us to get married.”

  She lowered her voice further. “But we agreed we wouldn’t go that far. Marriage was not the endgame.”

  “The game has changed. My father is dead. On his deathbed, he asked me to marry you. All you have to do is say yes.”

  “Whether I want to or not? Forced marriages are forbidden
in Islam.”

  “I am not forcing you to marry me. I offered you marriage, which you did not accept. According to my religion, which you love to toss in my face, we cannot be married without your consent. You do not give your consent, we cannot get married.”

  “That’s twisted logic and you know it.” She stepped back and let out several angry breaths in response to his uncaring, emotionless face. “I don’t want to be stuck married to you.”

  “Stuck?” Wasim repeated, anger and affront evident in his voice and rigid posture.

  “Spare me your indignation. I had much greater aspirations, and wanted more out of life than being the incubator for a man’s royal seed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I think you’ve insulted me enough for one day. If you did not come to give me the answer I want, then you can leave.”

  “Don’t you believe in love at all? I do. I want to love the man that I marry.”

  “Then you will love me. You will give me your body and your heart.”

  “That’s not how love works. But you don’t care about any of that, do you? All you care about is winning. Wasim must always win, no matter the cost to his opponent. I wish I’d never agreed to this ridiculous farce of a relationship. Ironic, isn’t it, that it was my idea?”

  And now she was trapped, like a fly in a spider web, struggling and struggling to break free but not finding any way out. Because he held all the cards.

  Wasim was good at reading people, finding their weakness and exploiting it. And he’d done that very thing to her. So much money was at stake. She couldn’t allow the deal to fall apart when they were so close, and she couldn’t allow it to be tabled indefinitely.

  She was her father’s only daughter and felt lost in a sea of testosterone and unquenchable need to prove herself and her capabilities. While her father never belittled her, she felt his condescension. That’s why she’d worked so hard to demonstrate that she was as valuable as her brothers. All that would be taken away from her. Her biggest accomplishment.

  And the women’s programs she wanted to fund with proceeds from the oil revenues would fall by the wayside. More than a year of hard work down the drain, and all he had to do was sign his name.

  “You know this project is important to me. You know about the women I’ll be helping. Don’t do this.” She kept her voice strong and firm, refusing to beg though clearly at a disadvantage. She had her pride.

  “I won’t, if you marry me.”

  She’d didn’t recognize the hard glint in his eyes. He was known to be a master negotiator, capable of wringing blood out of a turnip, but she’d never expected that skill to be turned on her.

  Imani glared at him, wishing she could eviscerate him with only a look. But he was unmoving. How could she have ever thought she had feelings for him?

  “I will never forgive you for this. Our relationship will never be the same.” She leaned across the desk with one hand on its smooth surface. “Fine, Your Excellency, I’ll marry you. But I will never love you.”

  He remained mostly unmoved, nonchalantly resting an elbow on the arm of his chair, only the narrowing of his eyes giving any indication that he heard what she’d said. “Well then, lucky for me, I don’t need your love.”

  Their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Both stubborn. Both rigid.

  Finally, Imani had had enough. With fire billowing through her veins, she swung around and left.

  When she safely arrived downstairs, she blinked back tears of frustration as she fled the palace.

  15

  When Imani had returned to Zamibia, she arrived with one of Wasim’s personal messengers, who hand-delivered the marriage contract to her parents. The negotiation had begun, listing details such as which country she and Wasim would reside in and their rights and responsibilities during the course of the marriage. It also included what Wasim would offer as her bridal gift, or mahr, valued in the millions and delivered over the course of several weeks after the nikah was signed.

  Once the marriage contract was signed, Imani and Wasim were officially married, but Barrakeschi culture included a forty-day period between the signing and the announcement of the marriage to the world in a wedding ceremony. In keeping with tradition, she would remain separate from her husband and would stay in Zamibia during that period instead of moving into The Grand White Palace with him.

  Imani sat in the living room of her father’s apartment, pretending not to notice that Kofi was staring her. Her cousin was a suspicious man and saw her as his little sister, and she was certain they’d have a private conversation soon.

  Until then, she listened to her father and mother’s excited chatter as they reviewed the document. Benu had been hesitant at first, unaccustomed to the idea of a marriage contract, but Prince Kehinde had expressed no hesitation.

  He was excited about her becoming the queen of a nation and that she would be the one to unite the two countries, which could prove profitable for generations to come. Their natural resources would be shared. Their militaries would learn from and support each other. Travel between both countries would become even easier, allowing the smooth flow of ideas and innovations, goods and services, and a mingling of cultures.

  At the end of the conversation, Imani left the room and went to her personal suite in her father’s living quarters. She didn’t pay attention to the opulent room that had been hers for years. She sat down in front of the window, propped her feet on a table, and stared out at the grounds. Numb.

  She was being treated as nothing more than a commodity in this whole transaction. Her worst nightmare had come true. Under different circumstances she would have been happy about this marriage. But she didn’t only want marriage. She wanted love and respect, too.

  One out of three isn’t bad, she thought bitterly.

  At the loud sound of rapping knuckles, she swung her head toward the door. “Come in.”

  Kofi entered, striding across the carpeted floor, his concerned gaze trapping hers. He looked particularly well-groomed today because earlier he’d received a haircut and his circle beard had been freshly trimmed.

  “Hi, Kofi. To what do I owe this visit?” Imani put as much of an upbeat sound in her voice as she could and went the extra mile of smiling.

  “What is going on?”

  “What do you mean?” She stood and put a confused frown on her face, though she knew exactly what he meant.

  “You’re really going to marry Wasim?”

  “You’ve known that was a possibility for some time. Since before King Khalid passed.”

  His eyes scoured her features. “I want to be happy for you, but this doesn’t feel right to me. Your entire relationship hasn’t felt right from the beginning, but I held my tongue.”

  “What do you think? That Wasim seduced me?” Imani asked, purposely making light of the situation with a slight smirk.

  Kofi did not see the humor in the situation and his face remained serious. “Granted, I noticed there was an attraction between the two of you, but you’ve dated a number of men over the years, and though I realize they haven’t been love matches, not once did you ever mention Wasim as a potential husband. This feels more like an arranged marriage, and I distinctly remember you telling me you wanted to marry for love.”

  Momentarily, she turned her back to him, allowing time for her to think of an answer. When she turned to him, her face was schooled into neutral lines that didn’t gave away an inkling of the emotional turmoil she suffered under.

  “As you pointed out, none of my previous relationships were love matches. In this case, I know Wasim. I know Barrakesch. An alliance between our countries makes sense, and I will be a part of it.”

  He shook his head. “None of this makes sense. An alliance, perhaps. But not with you.”

  “Then who? You don’t have any sisters, and I’m my father’s only daughter.”

  He still looked doubtful. She hadn’t convinced him. He took slow steps over to where she stood and looked down into her face. His eyeb
rows lowered into a deep V over his eyes. “Are you sure? If you don’t want to do this…”

  “Are you crazy? How can I not? It will be my greatest accomplishment. Wasim and I will go down in history.”

  Kofi rested his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. Then he spoke in his quiet, intense way. “This is more than history. This is more than an accomplishment, Imani. You remember how miserable my first wife, Azireh, was when we married? I don’t want the same fate for you.”

  Royal liaisons were often built around practicality instead of love, and his first marriage had been such a union, which ended in disaster.

  “I won’t kill myself, if that’s what you’re worried about. Your marriage was arranged, and Azireh was in love with someone else. I am not.”

  “There is no one else you love and wish to marry?”

  That question she could answer honestly. “No, there isn’t.”

  He nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. “If you ever change your mind about going down in history, will you let me know?”

  She nodded. “But I won’t.”

  Kofi pulled her into his arms, and she rested her cheek against his chest. She inhaled a quiet, shaky breath. Unlike her father, he expressed concern and wanted to make sure she was happy. It was her job to convince him their marriage would be real, because if she gave the slightest indication that she wasn’t happy or was entering into this marriage with any hesitation, he would ask his father to override her father’s decision to give consent to the marriage. Because Kofi saw her as a whole human being.

  Dahlia was lucky to have him as a husband. He supported her in a way that she longed to experience from her father but never had.

  Kofi pulled away. “I’ll see you later for dinner.”

  Imani nodded, unable to use her voice when emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  Kofi walked away without another word, but she knew her cousin.