“Hi.”
“You finally decided to make an appearance. How nice of you to show up…late.”
“You didn’t give me a specific time, and you should be glad I’m here considering you begged me to come.”
“Let’s not exaggerate. I invited you.”
“Because this wouldn’t be much of a party without me. You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you.”
“You were about to.”
Wasim laughed. He’d miss their verbal sparring when she went back to Zamibia.
“I see you’re doing something different with your hair.” He hadn’t planned to comment on her hairstyle, but the words just came out of him.
Imani fingered the strands, suddenly more subdued. “I’m trying something different.”
“I like it.”
She glanced at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re wearing a different scent, too.”
Her eyebrows raised a little in surprise.
She had no idea the close attention he paid to everything about her—her clothes, hair, the scents she wore.
“I am wearing a different scent. Normally it’s shea butter infused with passionfruit, but I’m trying a new fragrance from a line of creams and lotions made locally by the women’s cooperative of Zamibia. This one is shea butter infused with mango.”
She was truly amazing. Imani didn’t only publicize and encourage the women’s work, she supported them by buying their products. She’d also worked out a way to invest in their businesses with money from the oil revenues once they started pouring in.
“I like it,” Wasim said. She smelled so good he wished he could carry the scent of her with him at all times.
“You’re full of compliments today.”
“You deserve every one.”
Before she could reply, Malak ran over, squealing excitedly at the sight of Imani. Dropping to her haunches, she gave him a big hug and kissed both of his cheeks. “Oh my goodness, look at you! You’re getting so big. How old are you now?”
“Four.” He held up four fingers.
Her eyes widened. “I better be careful or you’ll catch up to me soon.”
Malak’s little face brightened from laughter. “Do you want to see my chimpanzees?” he asked.
“Wait a minute, they’re your chimpanzees now?” Wasim asked.
“Yes.” The little boy giggled.
Wasim folded his arms across his chest and affected a stern expression. “You bought them?”
His nephew nodded vigorously.
“Where did you get money?”
“When I went to the hotel to work with Baba,” he replied.
“Now you know,” Imani said with a laugh as she let Malak pull her away.
Wasim kept his eyes on her regal walk. Rubbing his bearded cheek, he let his gaze swing back and forth with the movement of her hips. She could make any outfit sexy—including a loose-fitting tunic and pants that did more to hide her figure than display it.
Her legs were completely covered, yet he couldn’t help but notice how she moved with effortless sensuality. Perhaps because he knew what lay under the clothes. Outside of Barrakesch, he’d seen her toned legs in fitted skirts that showed off her curvaceous shape and plump bottom. He’d had many thoughts about getting his hands on that ass.
Imani sat down on a rug on the lawn and proceeded to play with Malak and five other kids. They fed bananas to the chimp and cuddled with the lion cub, who practiced its roar—which sounded more like a squeak.
“You made a good choice.” Yasmin had sidled up beside him.
“You think so?” Wasim shifted his gaze to look at his sister. At four months pregnant, she only had the smallest baby bump.
Yasmin nodded. “You’re the perfect match. I don’t think you could have done better. We all like her.” She sauntered over to a bench where Farouk sat and joined him.
Wasim went back to mingling with the guests but remained attuned to Imani’s every movement. His sister’s words resonated with him.
Imani was perfect. Where would he find another woman who fit so perfectly within his culture and life? An equal. A woman whose deep love for her country made her put in long hours on the oil drilling project because it would improve the country’s economy. There was no better woman to have by his side as a life partner.
But their entire relationship was fake. Made up. Not real.
But what if it wasn’t?
“Okay, cuties. I need to take a break.”
“Aww,” the group of kids moaned as Imani stood. They were great for her ego.
“Five minutes and then I’ll be back.”
She made her way over to the refreshments table and poured herself a citrus water. Quite a few people milled around the lawn, but her attention went immediately to Wasim and a member of his staff chatting near the fenced-in lions and tigers.
One hour and thirty minutes.
That’s how long she’d been there, while at the same time wondering why she’d come. She’d almost changed her mind about showing up because she wasn’t exactly sure what was happening to her.
She’d changed her hairstyle to grab his attention because…because he sent her flowers. How silly, but that’s exactly what happened. The fact that he noticed her hair and liked the style made her happy, and so she couldn’t get the darn flowers off her mind.
They meant nothing because she and he were simply two friends helping each other, yet the roses sat on a table in her bedroom, basking in the sunlight that came in through the window. Proving, in effect, that they were not nothing by their prominent position in the room.
“Hello, Ambassador.” A blond-haired man gave her a friendly smile.
“Hello.” She didn’t recognize him, though after he’d arrived she noticed him wandering from person to person striking up conversations. Each time, after a few minutes, the people sauntered away and left him alone.
“Mark Strouse, with RollTech Industries out of Seattle.”
He extended a hand and she took it.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
He clasped his other hand over hers and leaned in. “I have to tell you, I just spoke to someone who has nothing but good things to say about you.”
“Oh?”
Now she knew why people were leaving him alone. He smelled like liquor. It was illegal to publicly consume alcohol in Barrakesch, so those who drank did so at home. Clearly Mark had done some pre-party drinking—probably at a hotel, in his case. And he’d had no qualms doing so in the middle of the afternoon.
“Yes, indeed. I’m impressed by your women empowerment projects and the fact that you’re the youngest ambassador ever to be assigned to Barrakesch.”
Imani tried to ease her hand from his grasp. “Well, someone has to do it.”
Mark let go with one hand, but tightened the other. At this point, he’d held onto her too long.
He looked into her eyes. “Forgive me for being forward, but you’re an incredibly beautiful woman. I thought you should know that.” He finally dropped her hand, but then stepped close and placed it on the small of her back. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Imani stiffened. Living in Barrakesch, she’d become accustomed to men keeping a respectful distance and being more mannerly in their interactions with the opposite sex. Mark made her uneasy.
She stepped away from his touch. “No, I’m fine. You know, I’m going over here with the kids—”
“Excuse me. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Wasim came up beside them. “Mark Strouse, isn’t that correct?” He stuck out his hand.
“Prince Wasim! No, we haven’t.” Mark shook his hand vigorously.
“Welcome. I didn’t get a chance to speak to you earlier. I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
“I have. As a matter of fact, Ambassador Karunzika has been the best part of the day so far.” His gaze flicked over her in an inappropriate way.
“Better than meeting me?” Wasim asked.
>
“Afraid so. Nothing takes the place of a beautiful woman.”
Imani gave him a tight smile.
Wasim’s astute gaze bounced between the two of them. “How is your wife?” he asked.
Mark gave him a startled glance. “Er, fine. She couldn’t make the trip.”
“I’m sure it’s difficult to fly when you’re seven months pregnant.”
“Yes, yes it is,” Mark said slowly, obviously surprised by how much Wasim knew about him.
“You realize now that you’ve made a mistake, don’t you?” Wasim asked. “You should have done what you Americans like to say—read the room. There are a few things you must learn. First, you do not touch a woman in the manner you just did. It is inappropriate.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Mark said.
“You also clearly didn’t know that Ambassador Karunzika is my fiancée.”
Mark’s eyes widened and an oh-shit expression came on his face. “Your fiancée?”
“That’s correct. In light of your behavior, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We won’t be doing business together.”
“I just got here.” Mark laughed uncomfortably, glancing at Imani as if she could rescue him. “I made a mistake. I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll have someone show you the way out.” Wasim waved over one of the attendants, who started toward them.
Mark straightened and cleared his throat. “This isn’t how I expected the day to progress, but thank you for the opportunity. I hope you’ll change your mind about us doing business in the future.”
Not likely, Imani thought, if the impassive expression on Wasim’s face was anything to go by.
After Mark was escorted away, Wasim said, “He smells as if he’s spent the better part of the day drinking. You should have gotten my attention when he started bothering you.”
“I could handle him.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he grated. He spoke quietly so as not draw attention.
“Are you scolding me?” Imani asked in an equally low voice.
“Yes, because you should have called me over.”
Imani said in a low voice, “We’re not really in a relationship, so I—”
“Everyone thinks we are,” Wasim interrupted. His copper-brown eyes flashed with ill-disguised anger. “And he had no right to touch you—or any other woman here, for that matter—like that. He wasn’t aware of our cultural norms, nor that you and I are a couple—real or not. He missed a lot, wouldn’t you say? He couldn’t be bothered to learn a little bit about the country he’s visiting or the man he’s trying to do business with, and dared to make a pass at you. Next time, let me know.”
“You’re right. I…I’m used to taking care of myself, that’s all.” Imani shrugged.
“If you were mine, you’d never have to,” Wasim rasped. Then he stalked away toward a group of guests.
Imani stared after him.
What in the world did he mean by that?
9
Wasim sat on the back steps of his palace, eyes focused on the lights of Kabatra in the distance. All the guests had gone home and the servants had cleared away any evidence of the party.
He’d decided to do business with two of the men who’d come today. Their knowledge, values, and behavior had impressed him.
A shadow fell across the steps.
“Will there be anything else, Your Highness?” The question came from a servant behind him.
“No. Have a good night.”
“Good night, Your Highness.”
His pet chimpanzee sauntered over and rested her head on his knee, as if to keep him company or lift his spirits. Wasim absentmindedly petted her head, his thoughts going elsewhere—to the night in Estoria when he kissed Imani. They’d been in the country for a polo tournament and ended up alone in his hotel room. Since then their friendship had remained intact, uneventful except for the deeper undercurrent of attraction between them.
They wouldn’t work. They both knew that. Neither of them was ready for marriage, and besides, their ideas about marriage were different.
Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about that night.
Ten months ago
“So you’ve never tasted alcohol, not even once?”
Wasim looked across the table at Imani, with her liquid brown eyes that had called to him all day. She seemed much more relaxed than earlier when she’d first arrived at his door, agitated and trying to find her cousin, Kofi, after a conversation with her parents. She’d been disappointed to learn that he had gone out for drinks with some of the men who had participated in the polo match earlier. Wasim had stayed behind, preferring to relax in the room and get a little work done before going to bed.
Since he was about to order dinner, he invited her in and listened to her complaints about her father and his dismissive tone regarding her desires for her love life. She simply wanted to be left alone to live her own life and make her own decisions, but that seemed to be an impossibility for her parents—especially her father. He saw her as a little girl who needed to be protected and wanted to see her married and taken care of, despite her many accomplishments over the years.
“I’ve never once tasted alcohol,” Wasim confirmed, taking a sip of iced tea.
The meal had been finished an hour ago, but they sat there talking, spending more time alone than he could ever remember in the past. He and Imani knew each other well, but this particular conversation felt more personal, more intimate. Maybe it was the hotel room. Or maybe it was the fact that they had never been alone for such a long period. For three hours they had sat in his suite in the Royal Palace of Estoria and simply enjoyed each other’s company. Laughing, talking, and sharing intimate details like old friends.
“I had no idea. You’ve never been curious?”
“Curious, but not enough to try.” He shrugged. “Drinking alcohol is haram in Islam.”
She cocked her head to the side, studying him for a moment. “Premarital sex is forbidden, as well, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
She smirked a little bit. “But you’ve had sex.”
He smiled slightly. “I have rules that I live by, but I’m not perfect.”
“Shocker. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I appreciate that. So, what are you going to do about your parents?”
She let out a dramatic moan and let her head fall back. His eyes traveled over the length of her throat—a throat that begged to be licked and sucked. He swiped a hand over his mouth, thinking for the umpteenth time what a mistake he had made inviting her in for dinner. His body had been on red alert the entire time, more so than usual. He had always been attracted to Imani, but that attraction had become particularly acute tonight.
“I’ll do what I always do. Put them off. Delay. Remind them that I can make my own decisions about my future husband.”
“It’s unfortunate you have to deal with that.”
“You have to deal with it to a certain degree, too, don’t you?”
“I have less pressure than you.”
“Has your aunt given up?”
“I believe so. I hope so.” He held up crossed fingers, and she giggled.
Imani yawned and set her glass of wine on the table. “I should go. It’s late.”
“You should.” Wasim looked across the table at her, his gaze steady and unflinching. “Or you could stay.”
She didn’t respond, but she looked at him, and he saw movement in her throat as she swallowed.
“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know where this conversation is going.”
“I believe you know exactly where this conversation is going. You’re not naïve, Imani. There has been something between us, almost since the first day we met. Unacknowledged during all this time, but sitting here with you and talking makes it hard to ignore.”
Nervously, she licked her lips, but neither of their gazes wavered. “What you’re suggesting is outside the parameters of our friendsh
ip. If this is some kind of joke…”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “All night I’ve thought about kissing you, and it’s not the first time.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.” Her voice shook.
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t. Because we’re friends, and…friends don’t talk like that.”
“Then maybe we should end our friendship, because every time I’m near you, my thoughts are not friendly at all.” He didn’t know what possessed him to be so up-front, except the stress of his attraction to her had started to wear on him. Spending this time together created an opportunity for him to be frank and test the waters. So far she hadn’t run out of the room, so he considered that a good thing.
“I should go.” Imani scraped back her chair and stood.
“I didn’t mean to chase you off.” Wasim stood, too.
“You didn’t. I’m just not sure this is the right conversation for us to be having.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me uncomfortable, all right? I-I…it makes me uneasy.”
“Why?” He walked closer. “We know each other.”
“Yes, we know each other. But I also know you’re not interested in a serious relationship.”
“Yet. And neither are you. Your parents want you to move toward marriage, and you’ve been fighting it tooth and nail. We are exactly alike, you and I.”
He reached up and touched her soft hair, smoothing strands back from her face. Her eyes shuttered closed, and that encouraged him to move closer—so close he smelled the sweetness of the grapes on her breath.
“Wasim…”
“I’ve ached to kiss you all night.” He brushed his thumb across her full bottom lip. “One kiss, and I’ll let you go.” At least he’d try to let her go.
She gazed up at him, and her heavy breathing mingled with his slower breaths. “It won’t be one kiss,” she said, calling him out for the liar he was.
“Just a taste, Imani. To put me out of my misery.” As the night wore on, he’d become consumed with one objective—to satisfy a need for her that had long been denied.
Queen of Barrakesch Page 6