“Marriage is a serious undertaking. It shouldn’t be entered into lightly, so sexual chemistry is not enough. We don’t even know if we would enjoy each other.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that we would enjoy each other,” he said, eyes turning intense.
Imani felt that look as surely as if he’d touched her—wrapping his hand around her neck again and plowing her skin with kisses. The temperature in the room went up several notches, and she resettled on the sofa.
“I’m not Muslim, which would be a problem for the conservative members of your government. And I want to marry for love. You know that.”
“And I have to get married.”
He didn’t have to tell her what was coming next. She already knew how royal families worked and the importance of having an heir to continue the family’s lineage. She bent her head as unexpected pain twisted inside her at the thought of Wasim finding a wife and starting a family in the not-too-distant future.
She stood. “I came here today expecting you to tell me you’ve thought of a way for us to dissolve this fake engagement. You have what you wanted, your birthright. Your father chose you as his successor. There’s no reason for us to be tied even more deeply together.”
“I think a marriage could work between us.”
“No.”
A muscle in his hard jaw tightened. “You’re not even going to consider it?”
“There’s nothing to consider.”
“Well then, we have a problem, because I promised my father you and I would get married right away.”
He said the sentence so flippantly she gawked at him. “What!”
“You heard me.”
“Pick someone else.”
Wasim took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. “I promised my father on his deathbed that I would marry you.”
“And that’s the only reason, because of a promise?” She swallowed the tightness in her throat but didn’t wait for him to answer because she didn’t want to hear him say yes. “I can’t do it. We’re not in love.”
“Love can come later.”
“That’s your idea of a perfect marriage. Not mine.”
“Would you have me disappoint my father?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“You made that promise, not me!” Imani hissed. “Getting married was not part of the deal.” She didn’t want to be married to a man only to fulfill a promise to his dead father.
“Think about this. You would become the queen of an entire nation. You would have anything your heart desires, you only have to say the word and it would happen. Is that not better than your businessman?” He sneered the last sentence.
Imani’s back went rigid. “We’ve already established that this marriage wouldn’t work.”
“You did, using religion as an excuse.”
“That’s a legitimate concern.”
“Not for me.”
“Because you’re a king and wouldn’t have to convert to another religion.”
“I wouldn’t require you to cover to Islam. We’ve already established that.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.” Imani folded her arms over her chest. This conversation had not gone at all how she had expected. “You’re living in a fantasy world if you think a marriage between us could work. There are already rumblings from the conservative factions in the Parliament about us being together. They would be happy for us to split, and it would be a nightmare if we got married.”
“As king, I have the power to dissolve the Parliament and start all over.”
“That is a drastic, disruptive step, and you know it. The last time it was done was by your grandfather, and he did so to root out corruption.”
His eyes flashed in annoyance. “Then believe this. You are a beloved ambassador from an allied nation. There are plenty of Zamibians living here that it’s not so strange that you and I would marry. We’ve already established that we’re engaged. One more step, and we’d be married. But there would be much more. A connection where our countries protected each other, exchanged ideas, promoted education together. Zamibia would have a foothold into the Gulf region, and we would have a foothold into Africa. Our partnership could strengthen our position on the world stage and protect our interests—economic and otherwise. This would be the perfect alliance between our countries.”
Imani looked down at her fingers. His words wrecked her. To think she’d thought for one minute that he’d seen her as more than a friend. She couldn’t consider his proposal. Not once had he mentioned having feelings for her, respecting her, cherishing her. Love was not a concern of his. All he cared about was an alliance and fulfilling a promise.
She looked him dead in his eyes. “A political alliance is not what I envisioned for my life. I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I wish you would reconsider. We could make this work.”
“No, we can’t. To marry you would mean being in the worst kind of relationship I could imagine.”
“The worst?”
“Yes. A loveless marriage with a powerful man. No, thank you.” Imani’s voice turned frigid. “You think that you can arrange a marriage and have it work out fine. I, on the other hand, find the old way distasteful. Romance, falling in love, courting—those are the things that I envision as part of my journey to marriage. If I can’t have that, then I don’t want it. I won’t be tethered to someone, miserable, because we look good on paper. So now we’re at a stalemate. How do you want to proceed with the dissolution of our relationship?”
His eyes turned icy. “I think we should wait. Until you’ve had time to think.” He spoke with no inflection in his voice.
“There’s nothing to think about. I’ve made my decision.”
“Still, I’ll give you time.” He walked back toward the desk.
“I won’t change my mind.”
“If you say so.”
“I mean it. Never.”
“Never say never to me, habibti. You know how I love a challenge, and you know that I always win.”
She glared at the back of his head and followed with her heels hitting the tile loud and strong. They both stopped at the desk, but he’d slipped a mask of emotionless calm on his features.
“I leave in three days,” she whispered fiercely so the men outside couldn’t hear.
“Then you have three days to reconsider,” Wasim said coolly.
“You’re already drunk with power.” Imani stepped back. “Goodbye, Wasim. When you figure out how you want to end this, let me know.” She stalked away.
“You’ll change your mind,” she heard him mutter.
She swung around and looked at him one more time, standing in front of the window in a three-piece suit, well-coiffed and confident. Wasim was a critical thinker. Behind the smiles and charm and gregarious personality was a ruthless negotiator who had expanded the wealth he’d inherited through the accumulation of real estate and other riches around the world. For a moment his confidence rattled her.
Then she straightened her spine, glared at him for good measure, and continued her power-walk out the door.