Dahlia bit her bottom lip and refused to let the tears resurface. She’d cried plenty three years ago.
Kofi was wrong about her. She hadn’t kept their son a secret out of some need to exact revenge. She simply thought he wouldn’t want Noel.
The way he no longer wanted her.
6
Kofi always traveled with a group of aides—assistants, bodyguards, and anyone else he deemed necessary for the trip, and the next morning proved nothing had changed. He arrived early with an entourage in tow. Abdalla came with him, along with two guards to replace the ones standing outside Dahlia’s apartment.
The last member of the group was a buxom woman with caramel-toned skin and a wide, friendly smile.
“Hello. I am Aofa,” she said, extending a hand. She sported a blue stripe down the middle of her braids.
“Aofa will spend the day with me and help take care of Noel while you’re at work,” Kofi explained. Today he wore more casual clothes, a blue turtleneck under a black sweater and jeans that molded to his narrow hips and emphasized his long legs. Though he wasn’t dressed as formally as the night before, he was still just as impressive.
Noel had one arm wrapped around Dahlia’s leg, staring up at the strangers.
Kofi crouched before the little boy. “Hello, son.” He smiled in greeting.
Dahlia’s heart tightened at the tender way he spoke to their son.
“Hello.” Noel reached for his father’s face and elicited a throaty chuckle from Kofi. He held the toddler’s face in his hands and kissed him on the forehead.
Dahlia turned away from the sight of the two of them together, father and son, their faces close together and their smiles identical.
“I’ll see you later, then,” she said.
“Does he have any allergies I need to be aware of?” Kofi asked, coming to a stand.
“No.”
“We’ll see you this evening.” Kofi took Noel’s hand, and Dahlia watched them walk out of the apartment, her son grinning and waving to her over his shoulder. She waved back.
He has no loyalty, she thought wryly.
After the door closed, the first thing she did was call in to work. Kofi gave her forty-eight hours, and she planned to make full use of her time.
Next, she called Angela and gave her a quick summary of the events that took place the night before and this morning.
“He can’t just take Noel,” Angela said when she heard the whole story.
“I don’t know that he can’t.” Dahlia pinched the bridge of her nose as she paced the living room floor. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d gone from living an ordinary life in Atlanta to considering a move to a small kingdom in West Africa.
“So you’re just going to pack up and leave?”
“Not quite,” Dahlia whispered. Nervous the men outside the door might hear her, she walked into the bedroom and shut the door.
“You have a plan,” Angela said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial tone, as well.
“I took the day off. I’m going to make some calls and see if I can find an attorney to help me—one with experience in international child custody disputes.”
“Good idea. What Kofi’s doing can’t possibly be legal.”
“That’s what I hope. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck. How about we meet up later? This damn job is sending me to California in a couple of days, and I want to see my best friend before she flies thousands of miles away to a foreign country and I never see her again.”
Dahlia buried her face in her hand. “Don’t say that. I’m hoping that doesn’t have to happen.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Angela heaved a sigh. “I want to see my godson, too, but I guess that’s not going to happen since he’s with his father. Let’s meet at the Starbucks in the Target shopping plaza at say, one o’clock?”
Dahlia glanced at the digital clock on the dresser. That gave her several hours. “I’ll see you then.”
The conversation with the attorney didn’t go well at all. Dahlia would not have good news to share with her friend when they met for coffee.
She tamed her hair into a bun, buttoned her coat, and slung her satchel across her chest. She exited the apartment and, giving a tight smile to the guards posted outside, walked down the hallway.
After a few steps, she realized she was being followed and stopped. Turning around, she eyed the man following her. He appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent, good-looking, with the same stoic expression as the other guards.
She attached a disarming smile to her face. “What are you doing?”
“I am coming with you.” He spoke in heavily accented English.
“I’m going to meet a friend, er, what’s your name?”
“Yasir.” He gave a slight bow.
“Yasir, it’s not necessary for you to follow me around. It’s perfectly safe, and I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours or so.”
“I will come with you.”
“I’d rather go alone,” Dahlia said in a firmer voice.
He shook his head. “That is not possible. I cannot let you drive.”
“Excuse me?”
“It is my job to protect you.”
She laughed and stared at him. “Yasir, I’ve been driving since I was sixteen. Yes, the traffic in Atlanta can be a bit crazy, but you’re being ridiculous.”
“I’ve been given strict instructions not to leave your side or let you drive.”
“Strict instructions by whom? Kofi?”
“Yes.”
Dahlia gritted her teeth. Now that she thought about it, she’d never seen Kofi drive. The no-driving policy must be royal protocol, guidelines she now fell under. No one in this country knew who the hell the prince of Zamibia was and certainly had no idea she was the mother of his heir, but her life was already going through changes and she hadn’t left the country yet. First bodyguards, now she couldn’t drive. Fabulous.
She tossed the keys to Yasir. “Fine. Let’s go.”
When they arrived at Starbucks, Yasir went and sat in a corner, inconspicuously drinking coffee while she waited for Angela to arrive.
“Hey, honey!” Angela swept in, arms wide. She was immaculate as always, her tawny skin graced with the right amount of makeup to highlight her features. She wore a scarf around her neck, her hair parted in the middle, and dark glasses perched on her nose. They’d been friends since college, clicking right away because of their shared sense of humor.
Dahlia stood and pulled her friend into a tight squeeze. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed a hug until then. “Ordered your favorite, a caramel brûlée frappuccino.” She extended the cup across the table as Angela sat down, and took a sip of her own caramel frappuccino with extra caramel drizzle.
“Thank you.” Angela took a long draw on the straw. “Ooh, that’s good. After my morning with those lunatics, I needed this.” She huffed out a satisfied breath and studied Dahlia. “Did you get a chance to talk to an attorney?”
Lips pursed, Dahlia nodded.
“Bad news?”
She cradled the cup in both hands and leaned across the table, which caused Angela to lean forward, too. She kept her voice low. “According to him, this wouldn’t be your normal custody battle. Kofi could take my son without my permission, and there’s nothing I could do about it. He’s protected by functional immunity.”
Angela’s brow furrowed. “Is that the same as diplomatic immunity?”
“Very similar,” Dahlia answered. “As a head of state, functional immunity protects him and his actions while on U.S. soil. Kidnapping is nothing. He could literally murder someone and not be charged, although he might have to face the consequences in his home country. Except, he’s the prince of Zamibia, and the chances of him facing prosecution...”
“Are nil.”
“Exactly.”
“Damn.” Angela sat back in the chair, her distraught face reflecting Dahlia’s turbulent emotions. “You don’t have any choice, do
you?”
“Doesn’t appear so.” Dahlia sipped her drink.
“Well, you look great. Not like someone being forced to move to another country.”
“I’m holding it together, but barely. I keep thinking about Noel and what the change would mean for him. I mean, my goodness, my son is a prince. I can’t begin to understand the type of responsibility he’ll have to bear later in life. And if I go, where do I fit in? It’s all so overwhelming.” She pressed a hand to her temple.
“You could leave and not tell him. Just sneak away.”
“Sneaking away is not an option. Ever since yesterday, I’ve had company outside the apartment, and today I have an escort.” Dahlia glanced at the table where Yasir sat, and Angela followed her gaze.
“Shit, he’s fine. Who is he?”
“My guard. Or my tail, depending on how you view his presence. Privacy is a thing of the past, and apparently I’m no longer allowed to drive. He chauffeured me here.” When she’d first met Kofi, she commented on the people always surrounding him, a phenomenon he seemed well-adjusted to after years of living under a microscope in his country. She hated the thought of having to live under those conditions.
“Did Kofi say anything about how he treated you when he left? Did he look you up because he finally came to his senses and wanted to apologize for doubting your innocence?”
“No. I don’t know why he looked me up. Probably some sixth sense he had a kid out in the world. One thing for sure, he’s furious.”
Angela frowned. “If anyone should be angry, it’s you. He never told you he was engaged.”
“His wife passed away.”
“Oh.”
Dahlia plucked at a paper napkin. “He’s different. Harder. Colder. Not the man I knew three years ago. I think her death deeply affected him. He said she killed herself.”
“Damn.”
“I can’t imagine thinking you’d spend the rest of your life with someone and then losing them suddenly,” Dahlia said. Actually, she could. She’d fallen too fast and too hard for Kofi and imagined what life would be like if they spent the rest of theirs together. So despite her anger and sense of betrayal, she felt sorry for him. It must have been devastating to have to bury his wife so soon after they married.
“Hey.” Angela touched her fingers. “You’re crying.”
“Am I?” Dahlia swiped away the tear from her cheek and laughed. “My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know what to think or feel. I don’t want to uproot my son and move to a country I don’t know anything about, but I feel as if I can’t stop Kofi. I don’t have the money or the power he does, and immunity basically gives him carte blanche to do whatever he wants.”
“If anybody can stop him, you can,” Angela said with way too much confidence.
Dahlia smiled weakly. “No, I can’t. You’re nice, but I can’t think of any other options, and I don’t have it in me to fight.”
“You don’t have any fight? You lost both your parents in an accident when your father fell asleep at the wheel. The same accident put you in a coma for five days. You were fourteen and you recovered.”
The accident took place in Arizona. While Dahlia dozed in the backseat, her father swerved into oncoming traffic. Both of her parents died at the scene.
“That’s different.”
“How?” Angela pursed her lips.
“I didn’t have a choice, Angie. I was literally fighting for my life.”
Her parents had traveled all over the country doing odd jobs, and she’d been along for the ride. Her life had been interesting. She’d visited almost every state. Her parents didn’t earn a lot of money, but the three of them had fun. Her life had been one big adventure.
Their deaths had had a profound effect on her. When she came out of the coma, she’d resolved to live life to the fullest. When her grandparents died, who’d taken care of her after her parents’ death, she didn’t miss a beat. She’d lived her life fearlessly, and when she met Kofi, abided by the same belief.
“Live in the moment with me.”
She remembered the softly spoken words as he’d looked into her eyes. She’d done it. Fearlessly, recklessly, and without reservation. She may have ended up with a broken heart, but she’d also wound up with the joy of motherhood. She didn’t regret having Noel for one minute.
“Five years ago, you weren’t fighting for your life when you joined Melanie’s business. You were only twenty-three. I took the safe route and went to work for a bunch of assholes who suck the life out of me every week, but you joined Melanie’s company as a partner.”
“And ended up with a partner who embezzled money from our biggest client,” Dahlia reminded her.
“You did it, though. You’re way braver than I am.”
“But what if I’m not brave?” Dahlia asked softly. “What if I’m scared? Really scared this time. And I’m not completely sure of all the reasons why I’m so terrified.”
Angela moved to the chair beside her. “Listen to me. You’ve been raising a kid on your own with no help, and Noel is a great kid. You’re going to be the best damn princess Zamibia has ever seen.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t have a lot of choices, or a lot of time to decide. You go with Kofi, or you leave, on your own terms.” She dropped her voice. “Run. He can’t take Noel if he can’t find him.”
Dahlia’s gaze flicked to her. “What are you suggesting?” she whispered.
“You know what I’m suggesting.”
Dahlia glanced at Yasir. He appeared to be reading the paper. His position gave him a sweeping view of the entire restaurant, and she suspected he was well aware of every movement of every person in the place—the people in line, the couple quietly arguing, the folks sitting by themselves with headphones, tapping away on their computers. It was his job to notice the details, and she was almost afraid he’d sense her thought about running and tip off Kofi.
“How do you feel about Kofi now?” Angela asked.
“I don’t feel much of anything.” That wasn’t completely true. He evoked a strong, emotional response from her that she tried her best to tamp down.
“You sure?”
“I don’t love him anymore, if that’s what you mean. He and I barely knew each other, and we were only together for a few months. Realistically, people don’t fall in love that easily or that fast.”
“You were pretty broken up when you found out he was married.”
Angela held her through the crying sessions when she realized she’d been nothing but an interlude for him. That his heart belonged to someone else.
“I was hurt. I admit I got my feelings tangled up in him. It’s easy to do when you meet a man who says all the right things, pays attention to your needs, and basically sweeps you off your feet. He was charming and promised me the world.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d actually thought they had a relationship built on mutual attraction and admiration. Not to mention he could be extremely funny when he let his guard down. And tender. So tender. And protective. She’d always felt safe with him, like nothing could harm her. Not only because of the guards, but because he himself was a trained soldier with centuries of warrior blood running through his veins. The way he walked and talked, he commanded respect and always seemed in control.
She emptied her lungs with a soft huff. “Our relationship wasn’t real. This is real. Moving to Zamibia is real. Noel is real. My relationship with Kofi wasn’t. It was an illusion, and the man I had feelings for doesn’t exist.” She stared at her hands as a bite of pain nicked her chest.
“What if he does still exist?” Angela prodded softly.
The old Kofi was hard to resist. If he reappeared, she would have to fight hard to keep from falling for him, and remember he’d deceived her and could do the same again.
“He doesn’t,” Dahlia said firmly. “The Kofi I thought I loved—I’m not sure he ever existed at all.”
7
Sh
e decided to run.
Thank goodness for Angela. Today, Dahlia accepted her best friend’s offer to escape to her parents’ cabin in the mountains. Angela made the offer the day before yesterday, before they left Starbucks. Tonight, before she caught an evening flight to California, Dahlia told her to leave the keys under the flower pot in her back yard.
She would not let Kofi control her life and that of their child without fighting back. She didn’t know anything about Zamibia and had no connection to the country. It was small and never made the news like the much larger countries that surrounded it. Besides, she couldn’t risk going there, where Kofi’s word was law. Anything could happen if she didn’t abide by his rules. Who knew what he’d do? She couldn’t take the risk. Once she was in the mountains, she would get a message to him and let him know they were safe. At that point, she would be able to negotiate from a more equitable position.
“We’re going on a little adventure,” Dahlia told Noel, keeping her voice light and upbeat.
“Abencha,” he said, eyes bright as he danced on stubby legs around the room, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. He giggled almost nonstop, clearly thinking the way she rushed around, stuffing clothes and other items into bags was some kind of game.
Dahlia swept her gaze over the room, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything. If she did, she couldn’t turn back. She’d packed only what she absolutely needed, but after enough time passed, she’d let Angela come back to the apartment and get more items.
She crouched before her son and buttoned his coat. Handing him his purple wiggle worm, she asked, “You ready?” She grinned to maintain levity.
He clutched the toy to his chest. “Yes!”
“Okay. Let me check something real quick, and then we’re going on our adventure!”
“Abencha!” he repeated with the same level of enthusiasm.
“Sit still, okay?” She hoisted him onto the bed and then turned out the light.
Peering through the slats in the blinds, she watched for movement on the sidewalk or in any of the cars. One vehicle drove by, and a piece of paper blew down the street, propelled by a light breeze. Nothing out of the ordinary, but she was still nervous. Two of Kofi’s guards remained outside the door, which meant she had to be careful.
Princess of Zamibia Page 4