Imani chest tightened as she listened.
“Not one person knew she was missing. Can you believe that? A yacht with over a hundred crew members, and not one damn person knew she was gone until my father’s helicopter landed that night and they couldn’t find her.” Rage simmered in his voice. “He was devastated. We were devastated. When he returned, he fired everyone on that boat.”
“I’m so sorry, but thank you for sharing that with me,” Imani whispered. She clutched his hand to her chest.
“That’s what I want for my children. A woman who clearly loves kids.”
“I love kids,” Imani said.
He pulled her closer. “Then lucky for you, you’ll be the mother of my children.”
“Lucky for me, huh?”
“Mhmm. Are you still going to Zamibia in a few weeks?” He threaded their fingers together.
“Yes. They’ve finalized some of the staff and managers for the oil rig, and I want to check out the office they have set up in the village on the coast.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I’m sure you’ll whip them into shape if the work isn’t up to standard,” Wasim murmured, sounding sleepy.
“I’ll do my best.” Imani smiled and snuggled deeper into his arms.
Wasim sat cross-legged on the floor at the traditional Barrakeschi restaurant with Farouk and Akmal. It was Saturday night, and Akmal had rented out the entire restaurant and called the impromptu meeting because he complained that the three of them hadn’t spent any time together in a while.
Farouk had finally closed the Hilton deal, so celebrating was an additional good reason for them to get together. So far, their conversation had been the usual as they caught up in each other’s lives.
But out of the blue, Akmal said, “The old men are still not pleased that you married Imani.”
Wasim briefly eyed his brother across the table, and it dawned on him that this was the real reason he’d wanted to get together.
He knew about the concerns of the conservative faction of the Parliament. He’d heard the whispers from the beginning, that he was marrying an “outsider,” a coded word that meant Imani wasn’t Muslim. For those members, his decision to marry her was another example of his progressive ways, but they knew better than to make those comments to his face.
He’d never told Imani about the negative rumblings, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she was aware of their displeasure. Only because King Khalid had approved of their marriage before his death had the entire process gone so well and there hadn’t been any protests.
And what could they do now anyway? She and he were married, and she was part of this family.
He picked up a circle of grilled eggplant with a dollop of labneh and olive oil on it. “The old men will soon be dead and replaced by younger men. Their opinions matter very little to me.”
“You’re not concerned at all?” Farouk asked.
“Why should I be? We’re married, and there’s nothing anyone outside of the two of us can do to change that.”
A look passed between both men.
“What does that look mean?” Wasim asked immediately.
Akmal smirked. “Are you in love with your wife?” He said the words as if they were an accusation.
Imani had seen marriage as a lifelong commitment to the person you love. Not a lifelong commitment to the person you might fall in love with, and their differing views had certainly presented a challenge.
But Wasim had only recently come to admit his love for her, to himself. He hadn’t said a word to anyone else, and certainly not to her, yet. Their affection for each other had blossomed and grown, but that didn’t mean these intense emotions he now experienced were reciprocated.
He could even admit that getting her to marry him was more self-serving than he originally acknowledged. When he’d lost his father, he’d used that as an excuse to hold onto her. To hold onto her laughter, her unmatched beauty, and adventurous spirit. He’d needed her and losing her had presented itself as an obstacle to be overcome by any means necessary.
“And if I am?” he asked.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Akmal said. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Spoken like a man who would do anything for his wife,” Farouk added.
“And I would,” Wasim confirmed.
“How does she feel about you?”
He decided to be honest. “That, I don’t know, but I think she’s getting there. We’re happy, at least.”
“Well, look at us. Three happily married men. We should drink to that.” Akmal held up his Coke and Wasim and Farouk touched their glasses against his. “To our wives.”
“To our lives,” Farouk and Wasim repeated.
Then all three men laughed.
24
Wasim finished dictating a letter and then deposited the file into the drive for Talibah to retrieve later. As he clicked out of the program, the phone on his desk rang.
“Her Royal Highness Queen Imani is on her way back to the palace and should be here in a few minutes.”
“Thank you. I’ll wrap up and meet her upstairs.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
He hung up and quickly reviewed a few more files. He’d promised Imani to take a break and have dinner with her tonight. Tomorrow night he had an administrative meeting that would certainly last through dinner, and she left for Zamibia the next day.
He logged off the computer and then exited the office. “Go home, Talibah,” he said on the way out.
His assistant smiled and nodded, but he guessed if he came back down later, she’d still be at her desk.
He took the elevator to the sixth floor, where Imani met him in the large, open entrance wearing a purple abaya with white and lavender detailing on the sleeves, her hair loose and curling in a sexy way beside her cheeks, and a smile on her face.
“How was your day?” She tipped up her head, and he dropped a kiss to her puckered lips.
“Long, busy.” Better now that he saw her.
They seldom saw each other during the day because of their busy schedules filled with meetings and various tasks. Imani also traveled outside of the palace more often than he did. Because of her charitable work and the organizations she supported, she had to remain visible and took lots of photographs because her image was needed to generate publicity.
One of the projects, the Women & Girls Literacy Initiative she had worked on with Yasmin, received the additional funding it needed after they followed his advice and ran a well-thought-out advertising campaign on television and extended their efforts to billboards across the cities and in the countryside.
He’d become better attuned to her moods, as well. He distinctly remembered a conversation they’d had only last week.
Imani’s name popped up on the LCD screen of Wasim’s personal phone.
“Hello? Is everything okay?” he asked. It was unusual for her to call him at work in the middle of the day.
“Yes, yes, I just…”
“You just what…?” Wasim asked.
“Nothing. I’m not even sure why I called.” She let out an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll let you get back to work.”