“So, whose heart did you break while you were overseas?” Imani stirred honey into her tea.
“Me, a heartbreaker? I should be asking you that. I’ve lost track of your many boyfriends.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I’ve only been on a few dates in the past few months, and…”
“And…?” he prompted.
“Let’s just say I’ve had to kiss a lot of toads in the quest to find a prince.” She pressed her lips together.
“Well, if it’s a prince you’re looking for…” Wasim raised an eyebrow.
“You were never in contention,” Imani said. She dislodged a strand of hair from her eyelash. Her hair was cut in a bob that made her thick, silky hair appear even thicker.
Wasim laughed softly and pressed his right hand against his heart. “I am crushed. Why? Because you refuse to take orders?”
“I may not be a princess, but I’m a member of the royal family of Zamibia, and not very good at taking orders,” she said haughtily.
“I know. That’s why I mentioned it. So tell me, what have you been up to while I was gone? Skip the part where you tell me how much you missed me. I already know that.”
“You are so conceited. No wonder you can’t find a woman to marry you.”
“And what’s your excuse for remaining unmarried?”
“Ouch. For your information, it’s rough out here for us women.” She carefully sipped the tea, narrowing her dark eyes against the steam that wafted up from the colorful glass cup.
“From what I heard, it’s rough for the men,” Wasim said dryly.
“What have you heard?” she asked sharply.
“Aren’t you the woman who punched your last suitor in the nose?”
Her eyes widened. “Who told you that?”
“Kofi.”
“Oh. He hit me, so I hit him back.” She shrugged.
Imani was the only female child in her family. Between her mother and her father’s two other wives, she had six brothers. She’d learned to fight, including box, since she was young. Since she was a member of the Mbutu tribe, the fiercest and most warlike of the nine tribes of Zamibia, her ex should have known better. What did he think would happen when he put his hands on her?
Though she could take care of herself, if Wasim had been anywhere near, the man would have gotten much worse than a punch. Wasim would have put him in the hospital.
“You’ve always been very good at getting rid of the men in your life,” he remarked.
“You make it sound like it was my fault,” Imani said.
“Not at all. I find your ways to be very efficient. You don’t waste time getting emotional about the decision. You do what needs to be done. Like the one before him—he cheated on you, did he not? And you dumped him right away instead of wallowing in nostalgia and listening to his excuses.” He picked up his tea, which he’d completely forgotten about during their conversation. The minty, warm liquid coursed down his throat.
“There was no excuse for what he did. He had to go.”
“And what about the one before that?” Wasim asked, setting the cup back on the table.
“Too weak.”
“I see. And the one from Mozambique?”
She laughed. Such a lovely sound. “You know way too much about my love life, but to answer your question, we mutually agreed to split. We had no chemistry.”
“Do you ever plan to get married?”
“Of course,” Imani said.
“And what do you want in a man?”
They’d never had this type of conversation before, and he wasn’t even sure why he’d taken it in this direction except that he wanted to know more about her needs and wants. A certain restlessness had pervaded him of late, and she was at the center of it.
“Planning to set me up with someone?” Imani asked.
“Depends on what your answer is. I have to be considerate of my friends.”
She shot him a dark look, and he stifled a laugh.
Imani surveyed the property for a bit, seeming to really think about her answer. “I want a man who is smart, funny, good-looking, but he doesn’t have to be a head-turner. He should be good with children, too, and…”
“Able to handle you?” Wasim supplied.
“I don’t have such lofty expectations. There’s not a man alive who can handle me.”
He let loose his laughter this time.
She smirked. “And you? What are you looking for in a future wife?”
“I’m not looking for a wife.”
“You will eventually. You are, after all, the oldest son of King Khalid. Eventually you’ll be king and you’ll need heirs. You’re not getting any younger, so what’s the delay?”
He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why he had delayed for so long except that the women he’d met over the years didn’t measure up, and as each year passed, his father became more concerned about his unmarried status. He worried, too, about his antics abroad.
Wasim took advantage of his lack of notoriety outside of the Arab world. Though he always traveled with bodyguards, they were unobtrusive when he wasn’t on official business, and dressed in Western clothes, he easily blended in.
He did activities like take public transportation and eat street food, the latter being a cause of great concern for his family and the aides traveling with him. But what was the point of being the son of a king if you couldn’t enjoy what the world had to offer—both great and small? One day he wouldn’t be able to take such trips, and until then, he intended to enjoy himself.
“I’ll marry when I’m ready.”
“And when you’re ready, what will your princess look like?”
He sat back for a moment and seriously considered the question. “She must be funny, intelligent, and able to carry on a good conversation. Knowledgeable about politics and world events, and she must be able to handle me.”
“Hmm, that poor woman.”
“Obedient.”
Startled, Imani repeated, “Obedient?”
He was kidding, but her expression was amusing. “This is my fantasy wife, remember? Can I finish?”
She gestured with a hand for him to proceed.
“Compassionate and like your ideal man, good with children. Someone who can play and laugh with them.”
“I assume you’re finished now?” Imani asked.
“And obedient.”
“You said that already.”
“It’s worth repeating because it’s very important.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
Wasim pretended not to notice her glare and tapped his middle finger on the table. “Let’s see…I think that’s it for now.”
“Good luck finding that fantasy,” Imani muttered.
“Good luck finding yours.”
“I don’t need luck. I’ll simply be patient.”
“I’m sure your patience will pay off. There are many men looking for a woman like you—intelligent, strong-willed, and sure in her convictions.”
“You think so? Women like me have a hard time finding a good man.”
“Perhaps women like you are looking in the wrong place.” His answer forced her into silence, and she studied him across the table. “But you don’t have anyone in mind right now?”