Her eyes glazed over with tears.
Kamran kissed the first one that fell.
Then Ellena glided to Khalil, who extended his arm and brought hers under his before he placed a kiss on her forehead.
“I present to you,” Khalil said in a voice that carried to every corner of the ballroom. “Ellena Kiley Maharaj, of the House of Maharaj seated in the United States of America and empire of India.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Ellena, I have been to many a wedding over the years,” Kamran said, closing the door to their palace suite, which had been decorated with flowers and décor from the wedding, so the theme of happiness carried throughout. They would leave for America tomorrow to honeymoon and tie up her business and family endeavors there. But tonight, as was the required custom, they would remain in Durabia. “By far, this was the best one—ever.”
She turned amused eyes on him. “You’re just saying that because it’s our wedding.”
“No, my love. I am saying it because it is true.” He did a little dance. “We learned to Salsa, and what was the other dance?”
Ellena sat on the bed and slid off her heels. “Stepping. Chicago style stepping.”
“Yes, and Kizomba. They brought instructors.” He pretended to dance with an imaginary Ellena. “They took over the whole wedding. My family lost their entire minds. I love it!”
She laughed at his entertaining attempt to get the moves it would take him more than a night to master.
“And what is the name of that song they played for us again?”
“The Makings of You,” she replied.
The love song was the same one that her classmates had remixed for Kamran and Ellena to dance to during the class reunion dinner. Both versions—Gladys Knight and Curtis Mayfield—had been blended to lengthen the track as Kamran led Ellena in a slow dance. Only later did she find out that he had requested for Dolly, Damaris, Ronnie and David to teach him the movements. She was shocked and impressed. The joyful tears that pooled in her eyes were his reward.
“I think your family may have had more fun than they expected,” Ellena said. “Your sisters were all sourpusses before my family arrived. But when they came out there to learn the dances … did you see them?”
“I saw them,” Kamran said, laughing. “Your family, they were fierce. Most impressive to have the world-renowned Khalil Germaine stand in as your father. He even brought a signed certificate of your claim of belonging to the Germaine-Maharaj family. Woman, you have been holding out on me.”
She gasped and held up her hand. “I promise you, I didn’t—”
“I know, my love,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “Alejandro explained some of what would happen. Actually, only a small amount. He asked me to find a seamstress to sew the crest onto each garment—and the colors and sizes, but the image they presented—how do you say it—badass.”
Ellena grinned. “What do you know about that?”
“Well, I consider myself a little bit of a badass,” he replied, popping an imaginary collar.
“That you are, Kamran Ali Khan.”
They shared a kiss and when he pulled away, he told her, “And just so you know, I think Dolly and Rashid might be the next ones down the aisle.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. And we will be seeing more of your brothers.”
“How so?” she asked, making her way to the bathroom.
“Each one of the Kings, Knights, and a few of the Queens put in applications to open a business here.”
She poked her head out. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am very sure.” He gave an affirmative nod with his answer. “They need a local sponsor for that.”
Ellena slid into the silk robe that Saba had placed on the massive bed. “I don’t understand.”
“Only Nationals can start a business here. Anyone else must have a National sponsor them. And that sponsor is paid a fee and owns fifty-one percent of the business.”
She moved closer to him, perched on the chaise as she pondered that for a few moments. “So, who will be my brothers’ sponsors?”
Kamran winked, and Ellena chuckled.
“Business will cause them to travel to and from Durabia,” Kamran said, as he crossed the distance between them and settled beside her. “But the real reason is they want to keep tabs on you …” He paused a moment as her face crumpled. “Oh, my love, do not cry. I did not say that to make you sad.”
“I’m not sad,” she said between sniffles. “These are tears of joy. How did I go from a woman with only a few family members that matter to like … a whole army of them? I never realized how lonely my life was until I saw all of these people here wishing me well and promising to stay in touch. And they were sincere. Every one of them. And then Melissa was here. Ah! Thank you so much. I only wish my sister, Amanda could come, but Christian had the brilliant idea to do a live video exchange so she was able to see everything and even say a few words to me.”
He eased one arm around Ellena and kissed her ear. “And why couldn’t she come?”
“Legally, she still can’t leave the country,” Ellena said. “Long story. Involves my mother, who screwed up royally—no pun intended—and Amanda ended up on the wrong end of two bodies.”
“Wait. What?” Kamran’s smooth brows came together in a frown.
“Later,” she shot back. “It’s too much to get into right now.” Then she averted her gaze to the open window. “I know Grant and Kaleb are into real estate, so they might buy some property.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
She narrowed a gaze on him. “What?”
“They cannot buy property here. Only a National can,” he admitted. “They are only able to lease it for ninety-nine years. My father wanted to ensure that Durabia did not end up like America and Africa. So many parts of it are owned by people who were not born there. Your America, the bridges, the roads, they are not owned by your government.”
Ellena thought that over for a few seconds and was floored. “I didn’t know that.”
“Most do not. And do not be alarmed.” He took her hand in his. “We are not the only country that protects our land and economy that way.”
She peered at him, and he could tell that information still did not sit too well. “But you all depend on eighty-five percent of the labor from outside. I looked at the landscape, Kamran. Fifty percent of the skyline is mostly cranes in the middle of construction. You all are building far beyond your ability to sustain the city yourselves.” She gave him a side-eye as she expounded, “If everyone decided that Durabia was no longer the place to work and people stop coming, what would happen?”
When he didn’t answer, she continued, “So, it is the play capital for Nationals, then your family reaps of all the benefits and live in luxury while everyone else works to build it and suffer. Sounds so much like America.”
She expressed the same point he had been making to his father for years, but it still sounded harsher coming from Ellena.
Kamran rubbed his temples. “My love, we are not going to have a cultural, social conscious, or political debate on our wedding night.”
“All right.” Ellena gave an adult version of a pout and snatched her hands out of his. She folded both arms across her breasts. Goodness knows those luscious brown nipples were calling his name and he wanted to be feasting on them right now.
“All right, my love,” he conceded with a weary sigh. “Speak your piece.”
Her shoulder tensed, then she went all in with, “I can understand the point of making Durabia the best destination for the entire world, but what are you doing to help others who are less fortunate?”
“My love, there is no poverty here,” he protested.
“Right, because if people aren’t working for your family’s benefit or bringing money into this economy, they aren’t even allowed to be here.”
“Checks and balances,” Kamran shot back, now becoming concerned. “They make mo
re money here than at home.”
“And they have to live twelve to an apartment to sustain that,” she countered, glancing around their luxurious bedroom. “Where is the fairness in that? And then there’s a place where men from all over the globe frequent. Girls have been brought over here to service men. Girls, not women.”
Kamran inhaled sharply. This was another point he had made numerous times to his father. To no avail. “It is a necessary evil that has existed for centuries. How do you expect it to change?”
“You might not be able to, but I expect you—for us—to try. Every girl needs to feel the way I did today. That they have someone looking out for them. That someone cares. Why can’t you be that someone?”
Kamran gave that much thought. An organization in the neighboring country of Dubai offered a safe haven for women and girls who had fallen prey to men who put them to work in the sex industry. They could emulate all of their work in Durabia, but the backlash would be epic. The way Ellena was looking at him made him want to win her approval. “We will try.”
She embraced him. “And speaking of trying … you set the bar our first time making love. So I’m expecting that to be your norm.”
“Oh, the pressure.” He did a dramatic hand slap to the forehead.
“I’m just saying.” She tweaked his nose. “Now that we’re married, don’t start having headaches and whatnot.”
“You are laying it on pretty thick, are you not?”
Her eyes danced as she laughed. “I mean. I’d like for you to lay it on me pretty thick. Enough talk.”
“Wife,” he said, shocked at the forwardness, though he shouldn’t be.
“Husband.”
Ellena straddled his lap.
“Why do I have a feeling that a little Marvin Gaye should be playing in the background?” he asked, burying his head in the fullness of her breasts.
“Because he always had the right idea,” she countered. “Let’s get it on.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amir walked into his palace suite and froze when he laid eyes on Faiza. The morning hours before the break of dawn normally found his wife stretched out over the bed, poised as if no one should touch her. He rarely did. Once when he tried to initiate sex, she told him, “I’m not an animal. You will not rut on me like I’m a brood mare.”
Her attitude was one of the reasons he visited El Zalaam so often. At least he could have his needs filled elsewhere.
“I want to see it,” she commanded.
He ignored her outstretched hand. “Not possible.”
“I demand to see it.”
Amir shook his head, then passed on the right side of the bed. “I do not wish for my wife to put eyes on such a thing.”
She stewed for several moments, then a sly smile graced her red lips. “It is all right. I will ask Salman or Umar. They will have no such reservations.”
Amir whipped around to face her. “But then they will know I told you something that I should not have.”
“Yes, they will.” She grinned and it was not a good look for her. Her hand was out again. “Let me see it.”
He pulled out his cell, trudged to Faiza and queued up the video.
“On your phone, no less,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
Faiza snatched it from his hands, watching the first visuals of Kamran and Ellena’s wedding night at the palace. After a few minutes, she inched backwards, dropping down onto the nearest chair. Her eyes remained glued to the screen, mouth forming a small “oh” at times, others rated a jaw drop.
Almost an eternity later, Amir finally plucked his phone from her trembling hands, though the video was still playing. The wives seemed to have some code they lived by. Give just enough attention to their husband to get with child, then distance themselves from anything related to sex.
Faiza’s shell-shocked expression was all the excuse he needed to play on her curiosity. Now, maybe she would stop giving him grief about his visits to El Zalaam, or readily submit herself to doing what it took to please him.
His father had taught him that men should indulge in anything they could afford. He could count the times that luxury cars were abandoned because owners had run up a tab before that next wave of money came in. Most of the rich didn’t have to work, so it was easy to become lazy and let life unfold as it came. Royals had a never-ending source of money. Whatever they couldn’t purchase outright, they had someone procure, whether legally or illegally.
He smiled. Though he had been reluctant to allow her into the wicked exploits of Kamran and Ellena, this could be a win for him.
“So,” he said, claiming the space next to her, before stroking her arm. “What do you think? “
Faiza shrugged him off, saying, “I think I married the wrong brother.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Grandma, you were not invited,” Blair Swanson said, alarmed that her carefully executed farewell dinner for Auntie Ellena was about to be ruined by the one woman no one cared to see. Ruth Hinton stood squarely in the entrance of Blair’s house in the heart of Jeffrey Manor.
“I don’t care,” the wig-wearing woman said, trying to push past Blair, who squarely planted her feet and stood her ground. “I want to see her. I demand to see her.”
“I promised she wouldn’t have to see you,” Blair warned. “That’s the only reason she’s here.”
“That’s not my problem,” Ruth snapped. “You shouldn’t have told her that.”
Blair repositioned her athletic body to block the way. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.”
Ruth reared back as though she was about to lay hands on Blair. “Or what? You’re going to call the police?”
“I shouldn’t have to.” Blair angled again, completely blocking the doorway. “Please leave.”
“Oh, let her come in,” Dorsey demanded, pushing Blair away from the threshold. “It’s not going to kill Ellena to see her own mother.”
“Unfortunate choice of words, Auntie,” Blair snapped, and saw Dorsey and her twin Dorothy flinch.
She gave a dismissive wave and said, “You know what I meant.”
“Come on in, Mama,” Dorothy said, glaring at Blair as Katrina, Katherine and Klara looked on, but obviously from their sour expressions, the triplets were on Dorothy’s side. “Ignore all this foolishness. It’s time she got over it anyhow.”
Blair stepped into Dorothy’s space in the foyer. The modest living room and dining area were already overflowing with family from her father’s side and only two from her mother’s—just to keep the peace.
“How the hell are you going to tell someone else when they should be over the death of four children? That man paid Grandma to take her children so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. They’re dead because of her greed and his.” Blair tilted her head as she peered at the shorter woman, whose careworn face was evidence of the battle scars she’d suffered in life. “If she had done that to you, would you be so willing to let it go?” She waited a couple of beats before adding, “Didn’t think so.”
“What’s going on? I am—” Ellena and Christian walked into the living room from the dining area and laid eyes on Ruth. She tipped backwards and put a hand to her chest, gasping. Kamran supported her from the other side, his face filled with concern.
Blair was by her side, almost in tears as she tried to make sure her aunt didn’t faint from the shock of seeing the woman she had every reason to hate. “Auntie, I swear I didn’t—”
“I know.” Ellena flickered a gaze to Dorsey, who wore a smirk that spoke volumes. “I know exactly who did it. She’s been hinting at it since I arrived.”
Blair beckoned for Christian to come forward. Her favorie cousin was immediately by her side.
“Auntie Ellena,” Blair whispered. “I’ll understand if you can’t stay.”
“It’s been nine years. Enough already,” Veda shrieked, throwing up her weathered hands.
“I agree,” Rolanda, Veda’s twin, said
in a soft voice, her short cap of curls barely framing her round face. “You’re here and maybe we can heal.”
“And how many children do you have?” Auntie Amanda snapped, tilting her head.
Nothing but silence as Rolanda’s gaze fell to the carpet. Amanda normally was the quiet one. Blair felt honored that Amanda and Ellena were taking her side.
Ruth had stolen money from Christian and Blair that had been slated to secure Amanda’s release from a restitution center in the South. Ruth had taken a call that was meant for Blair, used the information, and what resulted was an unfortunate series of events that still impacted Amanda to this day.
Amanda, like Ellena, had distanced herself from all the members of the family except Blair and her mother, Lela, Christian and his mother, Melissa. Things had become so toxic from Blair’s paternal side of the family tree, it resulted in the need for two separate Thanksgivings, two separate Christmas events, and most major holidays.
“Don’t talk to me about healing,” Ellena snapped at Rolanda while stepping away from Kamran. “I forgave her a long time ago, but forgetting is another thing entirely.”
“Well, if you don’t forget, then you don’t forgive,” Veda quipped.
“Not true,” Kamran countered, coming to Ellena’s side, placing his arm about her waist.
Dorsey waved her hands in his face. “Hey, we didn’t ask for your opinion, Swami.”
Kamran honed in on the brash woman and said, “When it comes to my wife, I will give every opinion that matters. She does not wish to be reminded of the most painful time of her life. And that is her right. As her husband, it is my duty to protect her from harm, even if it comes under the guise of family.”
“And you put your hands in his face again,” Ellena warned Dorsey. “I will whip your entire ass.”
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