“Bye-bye, Mommy.” He waved.
Dahlia waved back as he disappeared through the door.
She dressed quickly and went downstairs, wondering about breakfast, and followed the scent of bacon into the kitchen. At the entrance, she stopped. Kemal was at the counter pouring himself a cup of coffee.
He paused when he saw her, and the chill of unease trickled down her spine.
Dahlia couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but from the first time she met him three years ago, she’d had the distinct impression he didn’t like her. Nothing had changed. He didn’t crack even the smallest of smiles.
He was extremely efficient and invaluable to Kofi. While he was Kofi’s personal assistant, he was also treated as a close friend and confidante. For that reason, she’d never mentioned her unease about his suspected dislike of her.
“Good morning, Miss Sommers,” he said in an even tone.
“Good morning, Kemal.”
“Breakfast is on the counter. There is plenty of food, but if you’d rather have something else, you simply have to let me know, and I’ll ask the cook to prepare it for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dahlia said. “Um, where is Kofi?”
“Prince Kofi is in his office, working. Would you like me to get him for you?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Very well.” She could almost swear he turned up his lip. “In that case, Prince Kofi asked me to help you close out any accounts you have and take care of any other matters you need to handle before you leave for Zamibia. When you’re done eating, we can get started.”
He stalked off to the dining table and computer already set up there.
Although hungry, Dahlia decided not to eat. She didn’t think she’d have much of an appetite sitting at the table with him, facing his judgment as she ate. Instead, she poured a cup of coffee and sat down with him, and they went over all her bills and financial obligations.
Once he’d gleaned all the information he needed, Kemal went to work with the phone to his ear. All her expenses were to be paid off, including outstanding credit card bills she hadn’t been able to put much of a dent in. It felt good to have all those financial obligations immediately taken care of, but strange. She’d been on her own for such a long time, having someone else making the calls and paying the bills felt odd. Like she was a cheat or someone getting off easy.
While Kemal occupied himself with terminating the lease, utilities, and the like, she submitted a letter of resignation to the center where she worked, effective immediately. She made phone calls to say her goodbyes, but saying goodbye to Angela was the hardest because her friend was still in California and they wouldn’t see each other before she left.
By the end of the day, she was much closer to severing her ties to the U.S., in preparation for starting a new life in Zamibia.
10
Aofa told Dahlia that Kofi needed to see her, and she went downstairs and found him in the kitchen, spooning a rich-looking dark sauce onto a plate. The aroma of cloves, garlic, and peppers wafted over to where she stood.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, without looking up.
He continued working, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal mahogany arms sprinkled with hair. Seeing him in a domestic setting created heat low in her belly that spread to her loins. How many times had she trailed her fingers along those same arms, or melted into the warmth of his body when they held her tight against him?
Dahlia snapped out of her reverie. What was wrong with her? Kofi practically held her against her will, and all she could think about was how hot he looked.
“Not yet.” She entered the kitchen. “No one to serve you tonight?”
“There’s no need for staff to wait on me hand and foot every minute of every day.”
“That’s not how it was before.” She moved around him. He used to always have a servant or valet nearby at all times.
“I’ve become a bit more independent since then. Plates are in the cabinet over there.”
Dahlia retrieved one of the dishes. Kofi took it from her and spooned a piece of chicken and sauce on it. “You’re actually preparing my plate?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“I can’t help but be surprised you’re serving and being nice.”
He added rice and beans and then vegetables to the dish, drizzling the spicy sauce over everything. “It’s easier to be nice when I get what I want. Winning mellows me out.”
She wanted to smack the smirk off his face. “You’re gloating, and it’s not a good look.”
Dahlia proceeded to the dining area, already set with water glasses, and where a bottle of wine chilled in a bucket of ice on the table. She sat down.
Seconds later, Kofi placed the plate in front of her before sitting across the table.
He spread a napkin across his lap. “Are you still doing photography?” he asked, before uncorking the wine.
“I take pictures, but not as often as before. Renting dark room space isn’t affordable anymore.”
He hesitated, his gaze meeting hers before pouring wine in her glass and then doing the same in his. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.
She couldn’t afford to pursue her hobby after Kofi forced her and Melanie to close the property management business. Disposable income became a thing of the past, especially after having Noel. The same as her mother, she took tons of pictures but preferred a film camera to digital. There was nothing like the excitement of developing film in a dark room and uncovering the gem of a perfectly taken photo.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Dahlia purposely shifted the conversation. Shoulders tight, she braced for more demands.
Kofi tore off a piece of bread and used it to sop up some of the sauce from the plate. He popped the chunk into his mouth and chewed. “You have a lot to learn when we arrive in Zamibia, and I’m sure you have questions.”
“I do. I’ve accepted a position I don’t know anything about.”
“The duties of the princess are general in nature, focused on building goodwill and PR. You’ll host dinners for visiting dignitaries, attend state functions, and become a patron for the charitable organizations of your choice.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
Kofi cut into a piece of chicken. “You’ll have a full staff to help you, people who consider working in the palace a privilege and an honor. Before you arrive, Kemal will make sure you learn the basics to get you past the press when we land. There are a few details about protocol you’ll need to learn, and after that, you’ll basically be in school, learning our history and culture. You’ll be expected to learn at least a few words and phrases in French and in Mbutu.”
No surprise there. Zamibia had three official languages—French, English, and Mbutu, spoken by the Mbutu people, the largest tribe in the country.
“Anything you want to ask me?” Kofi said.
Dahlia pushed the rice and beans around on her plate. Glancing up, she asked, “Can I get out of marrying you?”
He chewed slowly and took a sip of wine. Her nerves stretched taut as she waited for a reply.
“Of course. Let me take Noel and you can stay here.”
“You know that’s not an option.”
“Then why ask the question?”
She ate some of the chicken and took a swig of water to wash away the spiciness. “One of us should ask questions.”
“What does that mean?” He rested his wrists on the table and waited.
“You never asked if I was seeing anyone.”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“I found you, remember? My investigator gave me a full report of all your activities. I’m certain you moved to Georgia not only because of the lower cost of living, but because your best friend, Angela, lives here, and you’ve worked at the substance abuse center since you left New York. You go to work, pick up Noel, and go home. Some days yo
u run errands.”
Her life sounded terribly boring when summarized in that fashion.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and the only sounds were of the utensils hitting the porcelain plates. Dahlia observed him from across the table, taking stock of the majestic beauty of his face and each measured, controlled movement. Her insides twisted with nostalgia or regret, she couldn’t be sure. He seemed so aloof.
“You never told me why you came looking for me.” After the way they parted, she never thought she’d hear from him again.
Kofi kept his gaze on the plate, and she had the distinct feeling he didn’t want her to read his expression.
“I hadn’t been back to the United States in the three years since...since you and I were involved. I was curious about what you were up to.”
“What would you have done if you’d found me and there was no Noel?” She held her breath, anxious to hear his response.
“And you hadn’t kept my son from me?”
“Yes. If you found me and Noel didn’t exist at all.”
He picked up his glass of wine and studied it before looking at her again. “We’ll never know the answer to that question.”
Disappointed, Dahlia lowered her lashes and continued to eat.
Dinner ended, and Dahlia helped Kofi load the dishwasher, something she never thought she’d see him do. He really had relaxed since the last visit.
She dried her hands on a towel and edged past him. “Good night.”
“Before you go, there’s something I need to give you.”
She stopped her progress across the floor and turned to face him.
“Follow me.”
She followed him into the living room, where he opened the locked drawer of a desk and took out a red velvet pouch with a gold drawstring. He opened the little bag and removed a gold ring with the largest diamond Dahlia had ever seen.
She gasped.
Two trapezoid diamonds sandwiched a larger emerald cut stone, all of them shining with such brilliance she almost needed shades.
“It’s beautiful.” Dahlia said softly. It was the most exquisite piece of jewelry she’d ever laid her eyes on. Her throat locked up, and for a fleeting second she wished this could be a real engagement and he’d come to find her because he missed her.
Kofi set the pouch on the desk and extended his hand. Dahlia laid her palm over his, her fingers trembling slightly, an awkward tension in the air as he slid the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit.
“Now our engagement is official,” he said. A possessive gleam entered his eyes.
The warmth from his hand crept past her palm, moving steadily upward.
Dahlia laughed shakily. “Someone will probably cut off my hand to get this ring. I better be careful.”
His face hardened. “No one would dare harm you, or my son.”
He spoke with such conviction, she didn’t doubt his words for a minute. No one would want to have to deal with his wrath.
Kofi pressed his mouth against the back of her fingers. The act shocked and thrilled her, taking her back to the first time they met. She’d been charmed by him then, high on the idea that this man was paying so much attention to her, and the feeling never went away, only intensified over time.
Torn between wanting to maintain contact but heartsick over the memories, she tried to pull away.
His fingers tightened around hers. “Where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”
“Honeymoon?” Dahlia repeated. Her pulse skipped a beat.
“We’ll be married. It’s expected.”
“And what do you expect us to do on the honeymoon?”
“What do newlyweds do on a honeymoon?” Kofi asked.
Dahlia successfully tugged away her hand and distanced herself from him. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she said, “Are—are you saying you expect me to sleep with you? Because if you’re talking about sex, that’s not what we agreed to. This isn’t supposed to be a real marriage.” Her heart rate accelerated.
“You do realize that as my wife, you’ll be expected to bear me more heirs?”
“Bear you more...heirs?” He couldn’t be serious. Their marriage was to be in name only, to legitimize their son. Had she misunderstood?
“Of course. Sex between a husband and his wife is the most natural thing in the world,” he drawled. “I have a right to touch my own wife, don’t I?”
Dahlia’s breath caught in her throat as she remembered quite clearly being touched by him, the unbridled passion they’d shared etched in her memory as sure as a sculptor’s design in stone. Kofi may be composed and cultured in his day to day life, but in the bedroom, he was intense and demanding. His kisses were divine and his stroke damn near earth-shattering.
She couldn’t open herself up to that kind of intimacy and feeling again. Not when they almost destroyed her before, and not when she knew she would be competing with other women for his attention.
“You’ll have mistresses. You won’t need me.”
“On the contrary, I do need you. To conceive the legitimate line for the monarchy. That’s your duty.”
This was a nightmare. “Are you telling me you’re going to breed me like some kind of cow?”
“Don’t be crass.”
“Don’t be crass?” Her voice grew louder in dismay. “That’s exactly what you’re saying. Talk to the council, because I won’t do it. I’m going to Zamibia for my son, that’s the deal. Get yourself a mistress. Or another wife.”
His eyes flashed angrily at her. “The more you talk, the better I like those ideas.”
Her heart hollowed out. Enraged, Dahlia grabbed a pillow from the sofa and flung it at him.
11
Kofi caught the pillow and panic flared in her eyes. He tossed it aside, and for two heart-pounding moments they stared at each other. Then he charged across the room at her and she ran for the exit, but he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. She let out a soft cry and kicked her feet in the air, tugging on his arms, to no avail.
Kofi tossed her onto the sofa and fell on top of her back, fingers curling around her wrists with the force of steel bands. “Still feisty, I see.”
“Go to hell. I’m not going on a honeymoon with you, and I’m definitely not sleeping with you.”
“We need to have more children.”
“Have them with your mistress!” she choked out.
“Once you’re the princess, only the children you and I have will be next in line for the throne,” Kofi growled.
“Have the council make an exception the way they did for Noel.” Dahlia tried to wiggle free, but he only tightened his hold as she struggled. Her floral print dress rode higher on her thighs as she rubbed her cushy ass against his crotch. His flesh hardened from the electrifying contact.
“That’s not the way this works,” Kofi said huskily in her ear. “We must have more children. An heir and a spare is the norm.”
“My god, are you saying what I think you’re saying? That it’s your job to get me pregnant?”
“Dahlia—”
“That it’s my job to have another child?” She glowered at him over her shoulder.
He closed his eyes, counting backward from ten.
“Answer me! Sleeping with me is your job? Thank you so much, Your Highness. How flattering.”
“It will be your duty and mine to continue the line,” Kofi said grimly. With difficulty, he flipped Dahlia onto her back and using one hand, kept her hands joined above her head. Lips pressed together in a mutinous line, she fought him the whole time, but the end result of her stretched beneath him meant her breasts arched upward in a temptingly delicious way.
Her eyes spat fire at him. “You think I’m a thief and a liar. Do you really want another child to be associated with someone like me?”
“Not that again.”
“Yes, that again. Get off!”
She thrashed around, trying to break free, bucking hard, but he refused to let her go
. Meanwhile, the organ between his legs thickened and hardened, his senses becoming aware of every move her soft body made.
She froze. No doubt feeling him against her thigh, hard and ready. He saw the exact moment anger transformed into lust. Kofi shifted, slid a leg between her thighs, and moved a hand to her hip. She let out a soft moan and bit down on her lip, eyes shuttering closed. Definitely not a sound of rejection.
He hadn’t been able to think straight since he saw her again, and right now he didn’t give a damn about heirs or duty. He wanted to lose himself inside of her.
Her heightened breathing sent warm breath brushing his bearded chin right before he mashed his mouth over hers. He pushed his hands under the folds of the dress and tore off her underwear with the ease of tearing tissue. When he penetrated her mouth with his tongue, she opened willingly, mouth clinging to his as he took his fill, sucking her lower lip and nipping the tender flesh with his teeth.
He broke the kiss and moved lower, kissing her chin until she tilted her head higher and allowed his tongue to trace the erratically beating pulse at the base of her neck. She groaned and curved her back at an acute angle, and he covered her incredible breasts with his hands. Soft and full, they filled his palms.
“Kofi...”
“I love the way you say my name,” he whispered. “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you say my name in your American accent?”
A shudder lanced through her and found an answering tremor in his body. As he sucked her neck, his hands caressed her soft thighs under the folds of the dress. His hips tilted toward hers three times in quick succession, simulating intercourse, and she answered the call by lifting upward to enjoy each provocative thrust.
He kissed her ear and sprinkled tender pecks of affection down her jaw to her rounded chin and went lower. His mouth skimmed her breast through the dress, while a hand squeezed her bare ass. When he cupped between her legs, she drew a sharp breath. She was so wet and warm, he wanted a taste. Sliding down her body, he kissed her through the clothes and finally pressed his face into the wet arc of her legs. He inhaled her sweet feminine scent and flicked the tip of his tongue along her clit.
Princess of Zamibia Page 6