Sitting up and holding the sheet against her naked chest, she smiled. “I’m kidding. Please run me a bath, and what were your names again?”
Relieved smiles covered the women’s faces, and they gave their names. While the older one went to prepare her bath, Imani gave the younger one instructions on which clothing items she wanted to wear to breakfast. The young woman went off to the huge walk-in closet to get the items.
Imani sat back against the pillows and reflected on when Wasim left her bed in the early morning. She should have been relieved, but a twinge of pain had blossomed over her left breast as she lay there in the dark.
His name might be written on her skin, and she might be wearing a diamond and platinum ring that proclaimed her as his wife, but she had been left very much alone.
At five minutes after eight, Imani walked out onto a glass-enclosed balcony where Wasim sat at a table sipping on a cup of coffee and reading an electronic tablet. Probably the financial news, as he stayed abreast of changes in the stock market around the world so that he could make better decisions about the royal family’s investments.
When she approached, he looked pointedly at the watch on his wrist and then quickly assessed her appearance. She wore a long-sleeved orange tunic that reached her knees and cream, wide-legged pants underneath. She hadn’t had time to do much with her hair, so she kept it simple, wearing it straight and tucking the right side behind her ear while allowing the left side to swoop across her left brow.
She thought she was simply dressed, but Wasim looked at her with such hunger she was almost embarrassed, certain the servants that hovered nearby could see how much he wanted her. His gaze lingered on her lips, still slightly swollen from his amorous kisses the night before, and she quickly took her seat because the intensity of his stare made her legs unsteady.
His power over her was nerve-racking. The smart, independent, strong-willed woman she considered herself had become foolish, dependent, and weak overnight. She hated him and loved him. He angered her but made her hunger for him, too. Nothing made sense anymore, so she’d concentrate on what was safe and would protect her from harm.
Anger. Anger was her shield.
Imani cleared her throat. “I was told that you wanted me…I mean, requested my presence at breakfast. Was there any particular reason for that?” She draped a white napkin over her thighs.
“I wanted to tell you about my plans,” Wasim replied. He extended his cup and one of the male servers refilled it with coffee. “But before we get started, let’s order breakfast.”
They placed their breakfast orders, and when Imani also had a cup of coffee in front of her, Wasim dismissed the servers so they were alone on the balcony. She’d never been out here before, and the view was spectacular. She could see the harbor with sailboats, yachts, and the largest yacht, which belonged to the royal family. A heliport with two helicopters was also visible from here.
Wasim set down his tablet and gave her his undivided attention. “I’m going to loan you a few members of my staff. They’ll help you get oriented with areas of the palace you weren’t privy to before we married and help you get acquainted with the rest of the employees that work for us. You’ll also need to start putting together your own staff, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about the employment requirements.”
“No, you don’t.”
Barrakeschi law required that for any entity that employed more than fifty employees, at least twenty-five percent of them must be a citizen of Barrakesch. This ensured job security for Barrakeschis in a country with a large expat population and ensured that wages stayed stable.
The kingdom also maintained a prominent presence in another part of the business sector. They required a twenty-five percent stake in any foreign company they granted the permission of being allowed to operate on their soil. This generated additional income for the royal family and funded programs that benefited the population as a whole.
Imani and Wasim discussed other operational issues surrounding the residential areas of the palace and timelines for completion. While they talked, their meals arrived. Imani listened to Wasim’s suggestions as she ate spicy scrambled eggs and waffles doused in maple syrup, and he consumed boiled eggs, cheese, bread, and tahini with molasses.
The entire conversation was cool and very civilized, like two business people discussing contracts rather than newlyweds talking about how to merge their households and manage their responsibilities as a highly visible royal couple.
While she agreed with Wasim that love before marriage could work—she’d seen it work many times herself in the arranged marriages in her country as well as here—there was no guarantee. She’d wanted affection, love, and respect to preclude any marriage. Instead, she was seated on a balcony sipping coffee, staring out at the azure blue of the Gulf while her husband returned his attention to the electronic tablet in front of him now that their conversation was over.
“Was there anything else?” Imani asked tartly, to get his attention.
Wasim looked up from the tablet with a frown between his eyes. He clearly didn’t appreciate the interruption.
“No, unless you have a question.”
“No questions. I’ll get right to work.” She pushed back the chair, tossed the napkin on top of the table, and stood.
His eyes followed her movement, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she walked away. She didn’t care what he had to say. Her misery was palpable.
This was exactly the kind of chilly relationship she’d promised herself she’d never have—yet here she was.
19
Since their wedding night, Wasim had returned to the business of running the country. Caught up in meetings much of the day, he didn’t communicate very often with Imani except to meet for dinner, make love, and then go back to his apartment afterward. She should be glad that he left her alone and only bothered her when he needed her to fulfill her duty as his wife. After all, she had plenty to keep her busy. Learning the palace norms, meeting with her own staff, and getting up to date on the programs and causes she could champion and work on with the princesses, or on her own as queen.
But she wasn’t happy. She felt…neglected. Though she was loath to admit it, she wanted Wasim’s attention outside of sex and the occasional meal.
Rather than betray those feelings, she concentrated on learning all she could about the various projects available for her to work on. The ones that appealed to her the most involved women and girls, and she focused her energy on expanding those initiatives.
She and Yasmin met one morning to discuss a passion project for Yasmin—a literacy program in rural areas that had slowly grown over the years. Though the country had a high standard of living and low crime, illiteracy was high among the people in the rural areas, particularly the girls and women. During King Khalid’s reign, Yasmin had convinced her father to send teachers to those remote areas because logistically it was difficult to have them come regularly to the city for classes. Eventually, she hoped to build more girl schools to help with the problem.
Imani loved to read. Reading had opened up a whole world to her as a child, so Yasmin’s project was exactly the kind of thing she could get excited about. They both sat on the sofa in Imani’s office discussing a trip to the rural areas. Yasmin wanted Imani to observe the work she’d done and consider promoting the project by convincing Wasim to instruct Parliament to increase the budget so she could expand the program.