Imani sat down on a rug on the lawn and proceeded to play with Malak and five other kids. They fed bananas to the chimp and cuddled with the lion cub, who practiced its roar—which sounded more like a squeak.
“You made a good choice.” Yasmin had sidled up beside him.
“You think so?” Wasim shifted his gaze to look at his sister. At four months pregnant, she only had the smallest baby bump.
Yasmin nodded. “You’re the perfect match. I don’t think you could have done better. We all like her.” She sauntered over to a bench where Farouk sat and joined him.
Wasim went back to mingling with the guests but remained attuned to Imani’s every movement. His sister’s words resonated with him.
Imani was perfect. Where would he find another woman who fit so perfectly within his culture and life? An equal. A woman whose deep love for her country made her put in long hours on the oil drilling project because it would improve the country’s economy. There was no better woman to have by his side as a life partner.
But their entire relationship was fake. Made up. Not real.
But what if it wasn’t?
* * *
“Okay,cuties. I need to take a break.”
“Aww,” the group of kids moaned as Imani stood. They were great for her ego.
“Five minutes and then I’ll be back.”
She made her way over to the refreshments table and poured herself a citrus water. Quite a few people milled around the lawn, but her attention went immediately to Wasim and a member of his staff chatting near the fenced-in lions and tigers.
One hour and thirty minutes.
That’s how long she’d been there, while at the same time wondering why she’d come. She’d almost changed her mind about showing up because she wasn’t exactly sure what was happening to her.
She’d changed her hairstyle to grab his attention because…because he sent her flowers. How silly, but that’s exactly what happened. The fact that he noticed her hair and liked the style made her happy, and so she couldn’t get the darn flowers off her mind.
They meant nothing because she and he were simply two friends helping each other, yet the roses sat on a table in her bedroom, basking in the sunlight that came in through the window. Proving, in effect, that they were not nothing by their prominent position in the room.
“Hello, Ambassador.” A blond-haired man gave her a friendly smile.
“Hello.” She didn’t recognize him, though after he’d arrived she noticed him wandering from person to person striking up conversations. Each time, after a few minutes, the people sauntered away and left him alone.
“Mark Strouse, with RollTech Industries out of Seattle.”
He extended a hand and she took it.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
He clasped his other hand over hers and leaned in. “I have to tell you, I just spoke to someone who has nothing but good things to say about you.”
“Oh?”
Now she knew why people were leaving him alone. He smelled like liquor. It was illegal to publicly consume alcohol in Barrakesch, so those who drank did so at home. Clearly Mark had done some pre-party drinking—probably at a hotel, in his case. And he’d had no qualms doing so in the middle of the afternoon.
“Yes, indeed. I’m impressed by your women empowerment projects and the fact that you’re the youngest ambassador ever to be assigned to Barrakesch.”
Imani tried to ease her hand from his grasp. “Well, someone has to do it.”
Mark let go with one hand, but tightened the other. At this point, he’d held onto her too long.
He looked into her eyes. “Forgive me for being forward, but you’re an incredibly beautiful woman. I thought you should know that.” He finally dropped her hand, but then stepped close and placed it on the small of her back. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Imani stiffened. Living in Barrakesch, she’d become accustomed to men keeping a respectful distance and being more mannerly in their interactions with the opposite sex. Mark made her uneasy.
