No. Could it be?
Her mouth fell open and her heart kick-started a frantic tempo against her sternum. Surely she was wrong.
“Dahlia, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
Her eyes widened and she staggered back. She wasn’t wrong. There was no mistaking that voice. She would recognize the accent and timbre anywhere. But it couldn’t be Kofi. What was he doing here at her door? What did he want?
Panic gripped her heart and forced it to pause for several seconds before restarting at a manic pace.
“Dahlia.” He pounded again, the loud thump echoing in the apartment like a bass drum. “It’s Kofi Francois Karunzika. Must I force my way in?”
He would do it, too. He would simply stand back and let his bodyguard kick the door in.
“No,” she called out. “Give me a moment.” She hoped he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice.
Hurrying to eliminate any evidence of Noel, she slipped the photo of them into a drawer and then swept her eyes furtively around the room for any more signs of her son’s existence. She grabbed a few stray blocks from the floor and his purple stuffed wiggle worm from the armchair, dumped the items on the bed, and pulled the bedroom door closed so Noel wouldn’t be disturbed.
Hand pressed to her chest, Dahlia made her way back to the front door and took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. She was already falling apart and hadn’t seen his face yet. Her palms were sweaty, and she swiped at the beads of perspiration accumulated on her upper lip. She needed to pull herself together.
With slightly trembling fingers, she undid the safety latch and opened the door.
3
“Hello, Kofi.” Surprisingly, she sounded absolutely normal though completely unsettled by his sudden appearance.
“Hello, Dahlia. May I come in?” As if she had a choice.
Dahlia stepped aside and allowed him entry. His bodyguard, a big man of at least six feet six, dressed in a dark coat and leather gloves, remained in the hall, his eyes staring straight ahead as if she didn’t exist. Now she had a better look, she recognized him. Abdalla was a former decorated soldier in the Zamibian national military. She came to know him during her brief affair with Kofi. Abdalla had served the royal family as a bodyguard for ten years at this point, most of those under specific appointment to protect the prince.
Dahlia closed the door, her eyes zeroing in on Kofi, the picture of perfection in a navy blue coat and black gloves. Tall, dark, and handsome, he wore confidence like a cloak, proud of his ancestry and heritage.
Her chest hurt with the pain of being near him and not able to touch the way she did before. She’d laid with him on many occasions and watched the play of sunlight across his skin as it came through the large windows of his penthouse apartment. Her fingers twitched with the need to stroke across his brow and caress the soft skin of his face, and her mind flashed back to intimate moments they’d shared when she would sprinkle kisses over his circle beard and along his firm jaw, listening to him draw a sharp breath as she flicked her tongue inside his ear.
Kofi gave the room a slow inspection, gaze flicking over the minimal decorations of a sofa, loveseat, and the rocking chair she normally sat in when she rocked Noel to sleep. His eyes were expressionless, so she didn’t know if he found her home adequate or not. Based on what he was used to, the eclectic mix of furnishings was assuredly inadequate.
Dahlia glanced quickly at the door behind which her son slept, and the ball of nerves in her stomach tightened. “I would offer you a seat, but I’m sure whatever you couldn’t wait until morning to tell me will be brief and to the point.” She was exhibiting poor manners, but after three years, he arrived at her home uninvited, and she didn’t feel the need to be polite. The sooner he left, the better.
“Yes, thank you, I would love to sit down.” Kofi pointedly ignored her not-too-subtle attempt to get him out of there quickly and removed his coat and gloves, placing them on the arm of the loveseat.
She didn’t doubt the suit he wore was custom made to fit his muscular frame—a body any athlete would envy. A dark-colored silk tie, gold cuff links, and the gold watch on his wrist completed the look of elegance.
Kofi sank into the loveseat, his dark eyes, similar to Noel’s, regarding her with interest. Unable to stand the quiet inspection, Dahlia took a seat on the sofa across from him and laced her fingers together in her lap.
“What are you doing here, Kofi?”
He flashed a smile full of even white teeth, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He appeared completely relaxed with one arm draped along the back of the loveseat. “I came to see you.”
His voice was earthy and deep and caused shivers to run down her spine. The melodious concoction contained influences from his tribal tongue and the other languages he spoke, English and French.
“Why would you come to see me? We both said all we needed to say to each other when we split three years ago.”
A thoughtful look entered his charcoal-colored eyes, as if he hadn’t remembered that day until now. “Yes, you were very clear, and you had some choice words for me. I believe you called me a dumbass.” A phony smile curved his lips.
Dahlia swallowed uncomfortably. She’d been angry and disillusioned, hurt that after the intimacy and close moments they’d shared, he’d believed the worst—that she’d stolen from him.
“I was angry. You know that.”
“Yes, I do.” Another phony smile.
Deciding it was best not to argue with him so she could get him out of the apartment as quickly as possible, Dahlia asked, “What do you want? I’m sure you didn’t find me just to talk about our last argument.”
He continued to study her with the same penetrating stare. As he tapped his fingers along the top of the sofa, the gold and diamond ring on his pinky finger glinted under the light. “I’ve thought about you often since you left me, Dahlia.”
His softly spoken words caught her off guard. The way he spoke her name, in his accented voice, swept across her heart like a soft caress.
“I didn’t leave you. You accused me of stealing from you.”
“And then left.”
“What was the point in staying? You didn’t trust me and accused me of a crime.” He said she’d distracted him, slept with him to keep him in the dark about the almost one million dollars the management company she’d co-owned embezzled from his family’s properties. She’d been ashamed but had nothing to do with the theft. Not that he believed her.
“Have you not missed me, even a little?” he continued.
Oh, he was good, but she wouldn’t fall for any of his seductive words this time. The words he tried to coax from her hovered on the edge of her lips, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. For way too long she’d allowed emotions to rule her head, but she wouldn’t allow that to happen anymore. She was stronger, and she had her son to think about.
“I’ve hardly thought about you. I’ve been very busy with my life here.”
His fingers stopped tapping.
Being cold to him was her only defense against his charms. So what if she spoke an untruth? So what if she’d thought about him every day and wished she could share her son’s milestones with him?
“Please tell me, Dahlia, what has kept you so busy these past few years?” All the warmth disappeared from his voice. It held more of an edge. He had changed tactic.
Dahlia smoothed stray strands of dark hair from her brow, and his gaze followed the movement before returning to her face. “I moved from New York to Atlanta after you forced us to shut down Wane Property Management. I found a job here and I’ve kept busy with work. And you? How has your life been?”
“You’re satisfied with your position? Your job pays the bills?”
“How has your life been, Kofi?” Anger slowly misted up inside of her because of his refusal to answer. “What has kept you busy the past few years?”
He stared at her, his face tightening.
“No answer?” Da
hlia straightened her back, reminding herself she no longer loved the cold-hearted man before her. He’d accused her of deception when he’d been the deceiver all along.
“There’s nothing you wish to tell me?” he probed quietly.
Why was he asking that?
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Did he know? Her heart raced unsteadily. Was that why she had felt so uneasy recently? Did he have someone watching her? She stood abruptly, a shiver rippling through her body. “I want you to leave.”
“Our conversation isn’t finished.” What did he know?
“I’m done talking to you. I told you everything I had to say three years ago. No, scratch that. I need to add something else to the dumbass comment. You’re a liar. A liar and a cheat.”
Emotion threatened to overtake her as the hurt came back full force. She’d loved him so much. Given him everything, all of herself, and what had she received in return? Lies. Humiliation.
His brows snapped together. “I never lied to you.”
“Yes, you did! How dare you come into my home and question me. Get out.”
“Dahlia.” Her name was a low warning.
“How dare you! After three years? Who do you think you are?”
“Sit down.”
“And not even a word of apology. You know I never stole from you. You had to know. But no, you would never apologize. You’re the mighty Prince Kofi Francois Karunzika. Go back to Africa and leave me the hell alone.” Dahlia marched over to the door and yanked it open. “Get out!”
In the hallway, Abdalla remained as immovable as a block of stone.
Kofi came to his feet in a swift, lithe movement. “Do you think you can just throw me out like a piece of rubbish?”
“This is not Zamibia. You don’t have any power in this country. Your word is not law. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police and have you escorted from the building.”
“Is that so?” A slow smile spread across his handsome face. “Close the door, Dahlia. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I mean it, if you don’t leave—”
“You. Will. Do. Nothing.”
His dark eyes glittered at her from across the room, and trepidation skittered down her spine. He was way too confident, even for Kofi.
“You know,” he said, using a conversational tone, “I had no idea you moved from New York. Imagine my surprise when the investigator told me he found you here, in Atlanta.”
“Why were you looking for me?” Dahlia asked hoarsely, a tightness in her chest she couldn’t explain.
“Never mind why. I had my reasons,” Kofi replied, voice as hard as steel. “Why did you leave New York?”
“I wanted a fresh start.”
“Is that the only reason?” He was enjoying playing his little game, not giving anything away until he was ready. The Conquering Lion of the tribe of Mbutu. Like a lion, he toyed with his defenseless prey, circling, not striking, until he was ready to devour it.
“Y-yes.” The lie constricted her throat so tightly it hurt to speak. The cost of living was cheaper in Atlanta than New York, and though she no longer worked in property management, at least here she could pay the bills and take care of her son.
“I’ve given you ample opportunity to tell me the truth. If I am a liar, so are you, olufeh mi.” The endearment didn’t hold the same appeal as before. Not when he used it to punctuate a veiled threat.
Dahlia’s fingers tightened on the door she had yet to release. He’d known all along. That’s why he was here. “No,” she said quietly, shaking her head slowly, denying the inevitable.
“Yes, Dahlia. I know your secret. I know you carried my firstborn inside you when you left New York. Close the door and sit down. I’m not leaving. Not without my son.”
4
Kofi leveled a stare at Dahlia, tension twisted into every fiber of his being.
Slowly, she closed the door, and they stood across the room from each other like enemy combatants, waiting for one or the other to make the next move.
He hated to notice anything about her, but that was impossible. From the first time he saw her she’d snagged his attention, and tonight was no different. She’d let out her hair, and the long tresses fell around her shoulders and down her back in a waterfall of shiny black waves. He recalled the soft texture and how he used to grab handfuls and tug just enough to force her into an arch, exposing more of her throat to his ravenous mouth.
His gaze swept her body and catalogued the fullness of it. Her heavy breasts were highlighted in the snug-fitting T-shirt stretched across her chest, and the loose-fitting sweatpants did nothing to hide the curves of her flared hips and thick thighs he’d spent many nights sliding between.
Dahlia twisted her hands together, and even such an innocent movement made him flash back to her whispering naughty things in his ear in the back of his SUV and slipping a hand down his pants. Those hands were soft and skilled and used to have him so strung out he’d wanted her with him every waking moment.
Dahlia broke the silence first. “Can we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kofi said, his temper flaring much hotter than necessary because he wanted nothing to do with this woman yet couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her full lips and forcing her onto her back to relieve the stress of arousal created by simply being in the same room with her.
“I won’t let you take him. I won’t let you do this to me.”
“Do this to you?” Kofi thundered. “And what about me? I’ve been a father for two years and never knew. I’ve only seen photos of my own son and never laid eyes on him until today because of your petty revenge.” He laughed softly. “Do you for one minute think you have a choice? He is my flesh. He is my blood.” With each emphasized word, he thumped his chest. “I will not be excluded from his life any longer.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“And whose fault is that?” Kofi demanded. “Do you think he doesn’t need me, too?” He ignored her watery eyes and hardened his heart. This situation was much bigger than the two of them. He couldn’t go back to his country without his heir.
Her eyes pleaded with him. “Kofi, you have to listen to reason. I tried to tell you, but—”
“Tried, but didn’t.”
Her hands fisted at her sides as she fought an emotional response. “I promise I won’t keep you away from him. You can see him whenever you want. We can work this out.”
“Oh, how generous of you,” he said sarcastically. “Now you want to work something out, but working something out didn’t matter to you before, when I was robbed of the knowledge of my own child’s existence. He is my firstborn and must claim his birthright.” He moved closer, around the coffee table and toward her. “I won’t make appointments to see my own child. He’ll have my name, and he’ll go to bed and wake up in the palace where he belongs, under the protection of his father and armed guards. He will no longer be left in the care of strangers all day. He’ll be educated and reared in the country of his ancestors. And when the time comes, he’ll take his rightful place on the throne.”
“You have such big plans,” Dahlia said bitterly.
“Yes, I do.”
“And what about your wife?” she spat. Her words startled him into silence, and he didn’t miss the gleam of satisfaction that flashed in her eyes. “Yes, I know you’re married now. Did you discuss your decision with her? Wouldn’t she have a problem with you bringing a child into her home? And we both know my son can’t be the heir because he’s illegitimate.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “My wife committed suicide almost three years ago.”
She inhaled sharply and her eyes widened fractionally. “I didn’t know.”
Marrying Azireh, the daughter of an Ndenga councilman, had been his duty. Originally, she was supposed to marry his brother, Jafari, but after his death, the responsibility to marry her fell to Kofi—as well as all the responsibilities that came with being next in line to the t
hrone. Her suicide had been sudden and unexpected, causing the entire country to mourn not only her passing, but the children they’d hoped would come from the marriage.
“My people need this bit of good news after what they’ve gone through in recent years. First my brother and mother died. Then my wife died, and we didn’t have any children. And my father is an old man who performs less and less of his duties. He and my people need to see our lineage will continue uninterrupted.”
His older brother had been next in line to the throne, but that burden passed to Kofi when the plane containing his brother and their mother crashed. He clenched his fist against the pain that always came when he thought of them in the mangled remains of the wreckage.
“I’m sorry about your father, and I’m sorry about your loss, but I can’t give my consent for you to take Noel to another country.”
“And how do you propose to stop me? The royal plane is at my disposal. I only have to make a phone call, and we’ll be in the air and on our way to Zamibia. Do you think your government will stop me? They would laugh at you.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s kidnapping!”
“Kidnapping?” Kofi scoffed. “It’s not kidnapping if I take my son with me. Your government would find your claims preposterous and ignore you.”
He was a highly respected head of state visiting from an allied country to the United States. By the time she convinced anyone to take her seriously, he would be long gone with Noel. Without money or influence, there was little she could do.
“You don’t have any kindness in your heart. What happened to you?”
Princess of Zamibia Page 2