Still cradling her youngest against her chest, Yasmin walked away with her head downcast.
Their relationship had been forever changed, and though he’d spared Farouk’s life, she was effectively without a husband. Wasim knew she would remain here under his protection, where she was allowed to live the life of a princess that she was accustomed to.
There was no way her husband could provide for his family now, with no business assets and cast out of his country. He might move to neighboring Dubai or Saudi Arabia to remain close to his family so that the boys could have some kind of relationship with him.
Despite the catastrophic fallout, one good thing had come out of this trauma. The usual drivel that had spewed from the mouths of the conservative Parliament members had all but disappeared. They’d softened their rhetoric and denounced the kidnapping of the queen and the potential heir.
The horror of such an outrageous crime had shaken the kingdom, and her strength had endeared her in the people’s hearts, particularly after seeing the bruised faces of her captors.
The bad part of this whole ordeal was the broken family left behind. Wasim, Akmal, and their younger brothers would step in to be father figures to Yasmin’s sons, but that didn’t change how broken their family would be for a while.
His heart hurt for his sister, and he grieved the loss of a man he not only considered a good friend, but a member of his family.
29
After talking with housekeeping about changes she wanted to make to the floral arrangements in the formal dining room, Imani took a cool shower, dressed, and went to Wasim’s apartment. She found him in his bedroom, seated on the edge of the bed and focused on his phone.
She stood by the door. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi. Everything okay?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She sensed he was about to go immediately into fix-it mode. “I’m wondering about us.”
His frown deepened. “What’s wrong with us?”
Imani walked over to where he sat and stood in front of him. “You haven’t touched me since the incident.”
“That’s not true. I have touched you,” Wasim said.
“Correct, you have touched me. You’ve held my hand. You’ve hugged me. You’ve cuddled with me in bed. But you haven’t made love to me. Why?”
He shook his head as if the very idea was terrible. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Imani took his phone and set it on a table. Then she walked back over and straddled his lap and hooked her arms around his neck. Looking into his eyes, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “Why not?”
“Would you believe I’m afraid?” he said quietly.
“You? Afraid?”
His jaw tightened as a hand smoothed down the curve of her spine. “I want you—believe me, I want you. But I’m afraid to traumatize you anymore.”
How had she ever thought this man didn’t care about her? His concern was so evident in the words he’d just spoken and in his actions on a daily basis. He was attentive and at times drove her crazy with his overprotectiveness and concern, but she’d rather have both of those things than his indifference.
“I’m not fragile, Wasim. I won’t break, and I want you to make love to me. I miss that part of our relationship. I want us to get back to normal. I don’t want what happened to change our marriage.”
Enough had changed already. Her relationship with Yasmin was strained and probably would remain that way for some time. Her sister-in-law carried the shame of her husband’s actions, and Imani did her best to ensure that Yasmin didn’t feel as if she blamed her in any way for what had happened. She hoped that their relationship could go back to a semblance of what it used to be—a close friendship that regularly had them laughing together while also working as collaborators on charitable projects they both cared deeply about.
“Imani, you went through a traumatic experience. I don’t want to be an insensitive brute and fling myself on top of you.”
She held back a laugh, but he must have seen the amusement in her eyes because he arched an eyebrow at her.
“First of all, you’re my husband, and you wouldn’t be flinging yourself on top of me. Besides, I want to make love to you. Haven’t you been listening?” She nuzzled his neck and kissed his Adam’s apple. “I miss you, Wasim,habibi. I miss your touch, and I need you.”
His hands grasped her hips and pulled her tighter against him so she could feel his growing erection. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked in a low voice.
