If he thought she’d change her mind about his ridiculous “offer,” he had another think coming.
13
After Imani left, Wasim sat in his chair and stared at the closed doors.
Was the idea of marrying him so horrible? They knew each other. They had chemistry. They could both do worse.
Could there be another reason for her not wanting to marry him? Could she seriously be considering the man she’d told him about?
He picked up the phone and found the photo of the Senegalese man named Abdou. He’d had someone on his staff look him up. Well off but not wealthy, never married before, and a reputation of being kind. Imani knew this man and had chosen him over the other one her parents preferred.
Wasim’s eyes rolled over his features. He was definitely handsome, looking more like a model than a businessman, with his high cheekbones and thick lips all covered in flawless ebony skin. Wasim tossed aside the phone.
He couldn’t let Imani go. He’d made a promise, and besides, he wanted her. She was the ideal. The woman he’d been waiting for had been right in front of him all along. Now it was his job to show her that he was the man she’d been looking for.
The prince among the toads.
But that would take time. Until then, some arm-twisting would be required. She would hate him at first, but what he planned had to be done. Not only because of a promise to his father. Not only because their union created a powerful alliance, but because he’d tasted heaven on her lips.
Call it obsession, infatuation, compulsion—he didn’t care about the label. All he knew was that Imani belonged with him, and he’d be damned if he let another man have her.
Hands on her hips. Imani surveyed her downstairs office. The shelves were empty, and all of her office supplies and files were in boxes stacked around the room. After six years she was finally leaving Barrakesch for good.
Her heart was heavy, but she’d accomplished a lot and was proud of her record. She had shown that she was more than a pretty face. She had shown that being a woman did not limit her accomplishments to getting married and having a family.
The cultural exchange program she created between Barrakesch and Zamibia allowed young women the opportunity to live and work in either country for six months to a year by pairing them with roommates in the host country. The program fostered understanding across the cultures and provided work experience that could be used to gain employment in a variety of industries.
She had also created the women’s trade initiative, which set aside a certain number of opportunities for women-owned Zamibian cottage industries, such as organic cosmetics made by hand and textile-making. That program was so successful that it went beyond Barrakesch’s borders to include contacts she made in other Gulf states. And thanks to her cousin-in-law Dahlia, opportunities to sell looked promising in the United States, as well.
She’d worked on many more projects, but her greatest accomplishment was soon to come. She would be responsible for ironing out the details of the oil drilling project. A monumental deal that would add to the GDP of the Zamibian people for generations. By working with Barrakesch, they were able to keep most of the money inside the country instead of working with outsiders more interested in lining their own pockets. Billions of dollars in coming years—trillions! She couldn’t count that high.
Imani strolled over to the desk and smoothed her fingertips over its empty surface. That all sounded great, except she hadn’t yet heard from Wasim and worried that their confrontation could adversely affect the agreement. Surely he wouldn’t cancel it altogether, but he could delay signing the contract out of anger.
King Khalid should have signed the agreement, but the delays with the environmental commission had pushed back the date, and now the contracts sat on Wasim’s desk, the new king. The new king who was angry with her.
Surely he wouldn’t let their disagreement keep him from signing it. After all, the joint venture benefited Barrakesch, too. They would receive a percentage of the oil revenues for a long time, simply for helping.
Her mobile phone rang and she picked it up. When she saw Yasmin’s name, her face immediately broke into a smile.
“Hi, Yasmin,” she said upon answering.
“Wasim told me you’re leaving tomorrow. Is that true?” She sounded hurt.
“Yes, I’m going back to Zamibia. Remember, my post is up and the new ambassador arrives in a few days.”
“I knew your post was up, but I assumed you’d stay since you and Wasim are getting married.”
“Um, right now Wasim is busy getting settled into his role as king, and we haven’t discussed a wedding date or made final plans yet.”
Yasmin sighed. “Yes, he’s very busy. I worry about the hours he’s been putting in lately, but I know it must be done. As for the two of you, I hope you don’t delay too long. I’m looking forward to having you as my sister-in-law. I want us to work together. Your enthusiasm for woman-focused projects are exactly what I need to help me with some of the charities I oversee. You and I could do a lot together, for both girls and women in the country.”
Yasmin was a strong voice for women and children, and her work was not limited to Barrakesch. She was also a UNICEF regional ambassador who worked tirelessly on behalf of children’s rights.
“Thank you, Yasmin.” Her heart hurt a little bit at the thought that she wouldn’t get to work on the projects with her because there would be no wedding.
“Keep in touch. Please,” Yasmin said.
“I will. Take care, and thanks for calling.”
Imani hung up the phone, feeling nostalgic and restless. She went out to the patio and recalled the last time she sat out there with Wasim. They’d shared dinner and talked about what they were looking for in a future spouse. Seemed like that conversation happened ages ago, but little more than a month had passed.
“Ambassador?”
Imani turned to face Vilma.
“A package arrived for you.”
Imani reentered the office and took the envelope. “Thank you.” As Vilma left, she tore it open.
When she saw the contents, her heart did a nosedive in her chest. The letter was written on the official letterhead of the King of Barrakesch.
Subject: Oil drilling joint venture between the Kingdoms of Barrakesch and Zamibia.
Her fingers tightened on the trembling sheet when she read the first sentence of the first paragraph. The project has been indefinitely delayed.
“No,” she whispered.
He’d done exactly what she’d feared.
14
The doors were barely opened before Imani swung through them and marched over to Wasim’s desk. He didn’t look up when she entered, as if he didn’t hear her or know she was coming, when they both knew no one entered his offices without being announced first.
He continued writing with his head bent over some document. His indifference further inflamed her anger and she slammed the contract on the desk in front of him and received a small spurt of satisfaction when he jumped. He hadn’t been expecting that.
“How dare you delay the signing!” she said.
“Lower. Your. Voice.” His voice seethed with anger.