by Nana Prah
She hinged forward as she took in the skyline. “No, but I’ve seen it every time I’ve flown into Bagumi. I’m sure the pictures on the Internet don’t do it justice. From this view, it looks spectacular.”
Proud of his country and his family’s accomplishments with the land, he nodded. “They don’t call it the pride of West Africa for nothing. I’m looking forward to your return so we can explore.”
He got the sense that no matter how often they met up, it wouldn’t be enough. For now, he’d enjoy her willingness to share her time with him.
***
Zareb parked in front of a two-storey house settled within a copse of trees. What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to come to his home?
After a month of training with him, she’d concluded that he was a good man. Disciplined and respectful to everyone she’d seen him come into contact with, even though he was a prince.
His invite had been to watch movies and eat lunch, so she was sure that’s what they’d do.
Then why was her skin feeling clammy and her hands trembling?
It wasn’t Zareb she didn’t trust. She desperately wanted a repeat of the groping session they’d had at the airport. If it had been up to her, they’d still be in the parking lot, possibly getting arrested for indecent exposure.
The trip out had been filled with light conversations about whatever came to mind. He was an easy man to be with. If the time they’d already spent together was any indication, it would mean she’d made the right decision to see him again despite the further lies she’d had to tell to make it happen.
She assessed how his house was camouflaged to fit into the nature surrounding it as they got out of the car and walked to his home.
“Do you live here by yourself?” she asked as he unlocked the door.
“Mostly. Occasionally, my brother Zik drops by when he needs some privacy.”
“I’ve heard about Zik. Isn’t he the one the media labels as a playboy? Does he bring women here to have sex?”
Where was her filter? Gone with her nerves.
His bark of laughter amused her as they stepped into his home. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Hmm. What about you?”
The hold he held on her gaze made her lightheaded.
“I don’t think you really want to know.” He swept a hand towards the interior. “Please, come in. It isn’t anything like the palace, but it’s home.”
Gulping down a repeat of the question he hadn’t answered, she decided that not knowing was best. His inner sanctum would reveal who he truly was. Give her some insight into more of his personality.
She learned nothing on the tour. The place consisted of dark wood furnishings and lacked any hue that wasn’t brown or a variation of it. She hadn’t expected his home to be decorated like a rainbow, but some colour, even if it consisted of orange throw pillows on the couch, would make the room pop a little.
Was this his personality? Non-dimensional? If she’d only known him as Sule, she’d think so, but she’d seen deeper into him. During their conversations, he’d not only been thoughtful, but thought-provoking. He’d brought up world topics that had them arguing at times, agreeing at others. His sense of humour often surprised her. He was also caring—she’d witnessed it in how he treated his family, especially Nour.
The friendliness and passion he’d shared made her wonder where the vibrant reds and purples were in his world. The brilliant fireworks of colour that he caused her to see with his heady kisses should be splattered all over.
“Have a seat,” Zareb offered. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water.”
She watched his well-built frame as he left the room.
Malika’s gaze drifted to and lingered on the unique carvings of the furniture which gave the place a traditional appeal. The abstract art he’d hung neglected to add hominess to the eggshell-shaded walls. She shouldn’t be surprised since he probably spent more time protecting the palace than he did in his home.
It didn’t take Zareb long to return and hand her a chilled bottle of water before sitting on the couch at a respectable yet still too close a distance. “These paintings are astonishing. Are you an art buff?”
“It was my minor in college. My father passed on his love of art.”
If only she hadn’t become enraptured with every new thing she learned about him. The tenderness in his eyes when he’d mentioned his dad spoke volumes.
He reached out and grazed the back of his fingers over the crest of her cheek. She dipped her head closer, silently asking for more. She would’ve never guessed him to be a person to display his affections so readily.
Ask the queen how he is with other women.
Her mouth went into an automatic purse at the thought of him being with anyone else.
“Does my touch annoy you?”
She crinkled her eyebrows together. “No. Why do you ask?”
“The tightness of your mouth. You seem upset. I was wondering if it was because I’d taken the opportunity to touch you.”
She summoned the courage to ask the question plaguing her.
“Are you like this with all of your partners? I mean.” She slapped a hand against her chest. “Not that I’m yours or anything. I was just wondering,” she mumbled.
Her orator ancestors would disown her for the inarticulation.
She’d maintained eye contact the whole embarrassing time, but the gleam in his eyes made the situation worse.
“I don’t tend to be an affectionate person. You and my nephew bring it out of me.”
Mouth suddenly dry, she reached for her water, untwisted the top, and took a drink. “What are we going to watch?”
“It’s your choice.”
A man true to his word. Another tick in the positive potential boyfriend column. Who was she kidding? In the short time she’d known him, he’d already filled in every space of several Bingo cards of what she liked in a man.
Now to see how he’d react to her choice. She’d spent a significant amount of time trying to decide on a movie that wouldn’t make her squirm with explicit love scenes, but that they’d both enjoy. She’d taken it as a personal test to see if she knew him at all.
“I choose Hotel Rwanda.”
He angled his head to the side. “Interesting. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it.”
“Me neither. I hazarded a guess that you like documentaries, and this is based on a true story.”
“What made you think that about me?”
“You’re practical and down to Earth. Someone who is always learning.”
Those beautiful teeth of his flashed.
“Although true, I also enjoy the chance to escape when I find the time to read or watch movies. Action, adventure, fantasy. If it’s a good enough trailer, then a romantic comedy.” He shook his head. “But nothing sad, depressing, or political. Life is full of that already.”
Not what she’d expected. “So, what are we going to watch?”
“Do you like romance?” he said in a lowered voice.
Her stomach flipped at the caress of the words. “It’s okay. Better in real life than in movies.”
“Are you a romantic?”
“I’d like to think so. You?”
He stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Gone for less than a minute, he returned with his hands behind his back.
She watched with a thrill of curiosity as he presented her with a gold box from his right hand. Her mouth dropped open.
“This is the perfume I’ve been wearing lately. How did you know?”
He tapped his nose. “I have three sisters and two mothers who have exquisite taste. I insist on being the one to escort them when they go shopping. I wasn’t exactly sure if it was the kind you wore, but I knew you smelled like lilacs with a light fruity undertone.”
The toughest man in Bagumi was melting her heart with his observational sweetness. “Thank you.”
His other hand presented h
er with a second gift. This one was wrapped. She guessed that the flat parcel was a book as she looked up at him before receiving it.
She opened it and gasped. A sketch of her from the night they’d met at the party sat in a gilded frame. “This is beautiful.”
“I drew it from memory.”
The pads of her fingers brushed against the delicate strokes used to replicate her exact likeness. “Oh, my goodness.”
He shrugged. “Zed is the artist in the family, but I have skills too. I just don’t make money from them like he does.”
Her chest tightened, and she gulped to maintain control of her emotions.
“Thank you, Zareb. And yes, you are.”
“What?”
Their gazes linked. “A romantic.”
“Now you know.”
Chapter Sixteen
It would be impolite, not to mention illegal, to strip the lock from his door to keep Malika with him for the determinable future.
The movie Hotel Rwanda had ignited bouts of outrage at the injustices by and against humanity. They’d also discussed the goodness that people could display when they chose to.
After devouring the lunch he’d had a palace chef prepare and deliver to them, they’d settled in for an action-adventure of her choosing. Twenty minutes into the film, Malika’s head flopped onto his shoulder. He’d looked down to find her eyes closed and her breathing deep and rhythmic. Adjusting their bodies, he’d looped his arm around her so that his chest became her pillow.
He was in heaven with her snuggled into his side. How had he gotten to this point so fast? Deep down, he knew she was the one for him. Why would she have such a captivating and soothing effect if she wasn’t?
He switched off the movie, grabbed his tablet, and assessed the camera feed at the palace. For the next two hours, he sent instructions to his second-in-command before researching the remainder of the people who had accepted to attend the competition next Saturday. No participant, coach, or invited guest would enter if they hadn’t been vetted. He wasn’t taking any chances. If it were up to him, he’d cancel the tournament, but the king and crown prince had insisted on showing the world that Bagumi held no fear.
Zawadi was leading diplomatic talks between the countries. So far, General Noda seemed appeased although the Barakat president was known to be temperamental and could change his mind on a whim.
Zareb’s instincts still tingled, but he hadn’t pinpointed why. He’d rather play things safe when it came to his family.
Malika wiggled and placed a hand on his chest. The movement was accompanied by a whimper that had the most sensitive part of his body twitching.
Her small palm roamed over his muscles. Without warning, she stopped her groping and went stiff. She shot her upper body away from him and across to the opposite side of the couch. Wild eyes glanced around the room as she placed a hand on her hair and patted it. Recognition seemed to settle when she touched her fingers to the base of her slender throat.
“I’m sorry, Zareb. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“You must’ve needed the rest.”
She nodded. “What time is it?”
“Three o’clock.”
“I was out for two hours?”
He crossed his arms to keep from reaching over to draw her back to him. “Yes. The explosions and gunfire in the movie were like a lullaby. You’re a very deep and still sleeper.”
“I’ve been told. My sister insists on putting a mirror under my nose to make sure I’m still alive.”
That reminded him of the time he’d discovered Sule sound asleep and difficult to wake up in the locker room. It had scared the hell out of him. It must’ve been what had accounted for his reaction to the young man afterwards. Fear made a person react in odd ways.
Malika stood and grabbed her purse. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
She didn’t wait for him to speak before pivoting and going. As he watched her, he found a familiarity in the straightforward sway-less stride that reminded him of her brother. If her fuller hips and perfect butt weren’t emphasized by the cinched waist of her dress, he’d think they were the same person walking away.
The family resemblances were disturbing. He distracted himself by setting up the movie to the point where Malika had fallen asleep.
She made a quick return, lipstick refreshed.
“Would you like something to eat or drink?”
She sat and rubbed her flat stomach. “All of that incredible food you fed me was probably why I fell asleep. I’m still full.”
Holding up the remote control to keep his vision from lingering over her body, he asked, “Ready to continue where you left off?”
“Do you mind if we talk?”
The tight clasp of fingers and slightly higher pitch of her voice didn’t intimate that she had a topic in mind that he’d enjoy.
He rested an ankle over his knee and draped an arm over the back of the seat, feigning an appearance of relaxation. “Not at all.”
The inward roll of her lips dragged his gaze to a mouth he desperately wanted to taste again.
“Why don’t you train women to fence?” She slanted her eyes at him as her nostrils flared. “Do you think we’re inferior to men?”
Her hands rose to a defensive position at his bark of laughter. Malika had made him laugh more in the time he’d known her than he had all of last month.
“After meeting my mother, how could you ask such a question?”
Her slim shoulders relaxed. “It’s the society we find ourselves. For men, women are to be controlled, not respected.”
“Not in my world.”
“And yet, your father has two wives. How is this fair to the women?”
Rubbing his chin, Zareb thought about how much to reveal.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s none of my business.” She glanced at her watch. “We have a few hours before I need to be at the palace. We can get back to our movie viewing. I promise to stay awake.”
“My mother granted my father permission to take a second wife.”
She waved her hands between them. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”
He felt compelled to confide in her. “I want to. You see, my parents’ marriage was arranged. They share a mutual respect, and as much as I hate to admit it, an attraction for each other. Although my father is fond of her, he’s with her for political reasons. My mother has loved him since they first met.”
Zareb shrugged. “Not long after they were married, my father fell in love with the woman who is now his second wife, but wouldn’t act on it out of deference to my mother and her powerful war-mongering family. She had no wish to keep him away from his desire. She didn’t want to divorce him, either. As a couple, they were good together. She insisted that she bear the heir to the throne before he took his second wife.”
He tapped his temple. “My mother has an analytical mind. Her advice to my father over the years had proven invaluable and profitable. Both had gained from the relationship.”
Her braids slid over her shoulder as she tilted her head. “It’s sad that it wasn’t a love match.”
“My mother explained that she’d fallen in love with four of the most beautiful creatures she could have ever created. She would always be grateful to her husband.”
“That was sweet of her to allow him to marry.”
“You can think that until you hear the other condition she set.” He faked a shiver. “I still find this disturbing because they’re my parents, but my mother is open with us about everything.”
“My mom was like that, too. She expected full disclosure just because she gave it.”
“Exactly. Anyway, she told the king that he must continue to be true to her by way of their marriage bed.”
Her eyes grew wide. “That might be too much information for me.”
This conversation was another way he knew that Malika was someone special in his life. He’d never think o
f telling his family’s secrets to someone he didn’t intrinsically sense would keep the information to herself.
“I’ve always held your mother in high esteem, but she’s gone up a hundred more rungs. If she doesn’t take care, she’ll get to Heaven with the angels.”
He chuckled. “Just think of how pushy she can be. That should demote her quickly enough.”
“Will do. Now will you answer my question about why you don’t coach women?”
If he could reveal private things about his family, he could divulge his own secret. First, he needed something in return.
Chapter Seventeen
Her prince had a gift for more than fencing and protection. Zareb had left her vocal cords unable to function when he’d shared a confidence.
Queen Zulekha had confided in her best friend years ago. Malika had heard the story from her mother after receiving her first heartbreak. It hadn’t made her feel better that a queen had romantic problems, too, but it had put relationships into perspective. The lesson she’d taken away was that no matter their rank or their upbringing, men were selfish asses who never truly loved anyone but themselves.
It had been a simplistic conclusion, but no man she’d gotten involved with had proven her wrong.
Would Zareb finally be the exception? Things were looking good, but so had all the other relationships she’d been in. At least in the beginning. Maybe he was like his father with a roaming eye. Something she’d never be able to tolerate. She didn’t care if he was a royal and this culture allowed multiple marriages. Like her parents’ relationship—either she’d be the only one for him, or she wouldn’t be with him at all.
She brought her thoughts to a wall-slamming stop. They weren’t even together, and she was thinking about binding him to her side. That was crazy. She was no longer a seven-year-old girl with a crush on someone who’d been kind to her.
As a grown woman, she had to choose wisely in order to protect her heart from being obliterated. Yet again.