Chapter Four
REVELATION
PRINCE HASSAN AL RASHEED
“ O h, Habibti, please say we can.” I look up from the blueprints for a new hospital that needs to be built in Rabat to the tedious plans for this fucking wedding that’s supposed to take place in three months’ time.
“Sure, whatever you want, my love.” I murmur dismissively even though I haven’t heard a word and couldn’t care less about what Khadijah, my soon to be wife, wants at this wedding that is ranging in costs to the tens of millions at this point.
I’m so ready to be done with it all. We’ve been in negotiations with her father, one of the world’s biggest oil and real estate magnates for a more than a year and the signatures on the contracts are barely dry and we are already in eight figures for the seven-day affair. There has been no limit to the Khadijah’s wishes, and no expense spared to the only daughter of Jhori Bin-Saladin. He may have his five sons fighting for control of the vast riches, but his only daughter he lavishes with everything her heart desires and he can give her. He is also not above her betrothed and my family, despite our royal blood displaying our gratitude for having her join our family. Especially since my brother Sadiq, the other crown prince, lowered himself to marry a commoner and an American to boot. He nearly pulled out of the marriage, then based on my brother’s actions. Only his love for his daughter allowed him to come back to the negotiating table.
“Yay,” she jumps up with glee, clapping her hands like I hold the world. I close my eyes, not being able to bear the sight. She’s a lovely girl, my sister Amani’s best friend. And we’ve been betrothed the better part of a decade when she was a teen and I on the cusp of my majority, but there is not where the misgivings lay. It’s that I feel utterly nothing for her other than brotherly affection. And seeing the love between my parents making it even more apparent. Yet duty calls and it all falls to me since Sadiq followed his heart when he married Lovie-Belle. I knew the moment I nearly caught them kissing when she was visiting for a brief stay during the making of our movie Just Forever that they were inevitable.
“Ahem,” comes the dulcet tones of my mother’s admonition.
“Yes, Umm?” Turning, I wait, watching her brow quirk in frustration. Only I’m not sure who is warranting the reaction, me for my inattention or my soon to be bride for her exuberance.
“I would remind you that getting a star of the Empresses’s caliber at short notice is not only going to be exorbitant but near impossible as she starts her world tour.” My mother informs us both calmly. Filling me in on what the discussion I’d been doing my best to ignore entailed.
I try to quell any reaction at the mention of Lyric’s stage name. Still, I can feel the muscle in my jaw flexing. It’s not a surprise Khadijah wants Lyric to perform at our wedding. It’s all she’s spoken about from the moment our engagement was formally announced and we’ve been able to speak freely with one another without a chaperone sitting beside us. They are still in the room, but we can at least have a conversation.
“I’m her biggest fan,” was the first thing she ever told me, then asked me for all the signed Empress merch I could get my hands on. Which I was happy to oblige, since as one of FADE’s best friends and business partners, I had access to whatever she desired.
That all ended after the night and morning we spent together. For reasons known only to a few, Lyric canceled her tour, causing FADE, and Creative Chaos to take a huge PR hit. FADE went to bat for her, but there was huge speculation in the press and online surrounding her abrupt canceling of the tour — everything from depression, and addiction, to her being treated for cancer. And no one on her team talked. Lawsuits were threatened, but nothing could persuade the diva, who seemed to throw the biggest tantrum the world has ever seen to come out of hiding. Eventually, it worked out that she would do the promised world tour as soon as she felt better.
“She going to Cairo, Nairobi, Accra and Johannesburg. I’m she can stop by and do this one little favor for you, can’t she, my love?” Khadijah wheedles sweetly, her twin dimples, making her look cute and innocent. She’s a shark when it comes to getting what she wants, so I’m not fooled.
I know she’s not given to sulks and tantrums, but I know I need to shut this shit down immediately. There is no way in hell I am ever asking Lyric for a damn thing, let alone to perform at my wedding.
“We’ll see,” I say, which means, hell no. I watch as my mother nods in agreement on my chosen tactic.
“Thank you, Habibi,” she coos. Nodding, I know this is far from the last time I’ll be hearing about this. I don’t want to start out our marriage with a deception, but I know I must be seen actively working to attain this goal or I will have no fucking peace in this marriage.
“At least we now know why she’s been on hiatus. All those people calling her an addict and mentally unstable need to apologize, especially that Amy Reyes person who ran all those terrible stories about her.” She crosses her arms in defense of her favorite star.
“What really happened?” Umm, asks unable to help herself from the gossip. No one in Khadijah’s sphere can escape her tantalizing tidbits. She would have been a brilliant journalist were she not the daughter of a billionaire and destined to be my queen.
“So no serious illness?” FADE would have said something if his biggest star were ill. Hell, he would have stopped everything for Lyric. They are so close I thought they were lovers until the night she gave herself to me. I don’t investigate why I care. After the way I left things, I don’t have the right. My cruelty that morning was out of pocket, even for me. Ruthless? Yes. Unforgiving? Absolutely. Needlessly cruel to a woman who gave me the best night of my life? Should be never, but I did it anyway. The way she looked so brave in my shirt wrapped in that robe as the elevator closed haunts my fucking dreams.
The callousness of how I treated her that morning was unforgivable. There were times when I saw everything that happened shortly after our interlude that I thought it was because of me. I quickly cast that aside. There is no way I could have been the cause when she’s been known to toss away lovers left and right.
When she said she didn’t think I liked her, I told her the truth. I didn’t. Her reputation preceded her, but that didn’t stop my dick from bricking as I sat beside her in that movie. No. If anything, I thought I met my sexual match finally that night. A baddie in the streets and a sub in the sheets. The grip on her pussy had me thinking she could’ve been a virgin. Not with her track record, one that she never refutes either. I think that’s why I took such offense at her judgment about my engagement. It was only later that I realized that I’d never heard her linked with a man in a relationship. I guess everyone has a line they won’t cross.
I roll my shoulders, trying to rid myself of the sudden tightness in my chest thinking about her brings.
“Nope. No illness, no drugs.” She hums and keeps humming. Umm and I look at her in puzzlement. She hums louder. I pick up the tune. It’s a lullaby.
“A baby, silly.” She claps her hands with glee. “Lyric had a baby. That’s why she didn’t go on tour two years ago. And it looks like she kept it a secret.” Then she reads aloud. “When finally reached for comment FADE, the Creative Chaos CEO said, no comment. When spotted leaving an unnamed actress’s condo, Ghadi Carrington responded, “This is news to me, man. I wish her and the little one good health and happiness.”
She turns round eyes to us. “The only reason we know about is this picture taken of the baby at this fair in some small town in Alabama. It was posted there first. Isn’t he adorable?” She does this little stumping of her feet that would be fucking adorable if an anguished roar wasn’t filling my fucking ears.
There has never been a moment when I have seen my life flash before my eyes, but in that moment when my fiancée, completely oblivious to the emotions raging within me, hands me her iPad, it is then I fully understand the sentiment. I know before she reaches out, holding the tablet in my direction.
Grabbing the tablet, I look into the face that with the exception of a slightly darker skin tone is exactly like mine and my identical twin brother Sadiq, complete with our unmistakable green eyes.
“The plane is being diverted as we speak.”
I nod to Fariq, the head of my security words, my eyes on the preparations I’m making for my son and his treacherous mother.
“Once they are in our airspace, we make the plane disappear. I don’t want anything traced back to the royal family.” My low tones are devoid of the emotions raging inside of me. I’ve learned from the best. I’ve watched Baba handle our government with cold calm proficiency since Sadiq and I were at his knee at three.
He gives me the briefest of nods before I continue.
“I will go with you to pick the prince up. Only the most discreet men, you understand?” He nods again. “Have everything prepared for our arrival in Fez.”
“And the women?” I ponder what to do with her. Killing her little deceitful ass seems like the best idea. I could take my son and no one would be the wiser. FADE would know. There’s no way I’m killing my friend over her ass, and that is what I would have to do. Her plane is being diverted thanks to a well-placed bribe, but once it never arrives in Cairo, all hell will break loose and people begin searching. By the time it’s discovered me having custody of my son will be done deal.
“Bring them, but keep them separated once they get to the palace.” Dismissing him, I go over every detail of what I know so far about Lyric and my son, who she’s named Ayaan. She thinks of him as a blessing.
Questions swirl around in my mind. She said she had an IUD. It was on the paperwork I viewed on her phone, a copper one. They never fail, so how the fuck did she end up pregnant with my child? Was it a trap? And if so what is her end game? Normally, if someone wanted to claim parentage of a royal, they would do it as soon as possible.
She’s kept this secret for nearly two years. My son has already had his first birthday. I’ve missed an entire year of his life because of her. He’s been denied my love and protection, that should have been his from the moment she knew she carried my child.
In the two hours that followed me making my excuses and leaving Umm and Khadijah to the wedding planning, I have had all her medical records and those of my son sent to me.
I didn’t even bother calling FADE because either he knew or he was in the dark as much as I. We started in the music game together after my father all but disowned Sadiq and I for not following in his precise footsteps and taking our places and crown princes. We didn’t want his life. We wanted to forge our own path. It left us estranged for years. We made our own way building an empire of our own with vast resources and not all of them legal.
The syndicates we partner with are the true source of our power, with many tentacles that can do certain tasks like snatch a duplicitous little pop star right out the air.
When my driver pulls up to the private airstrip, my heart races. I tell myself it’s in anticipation of seeing my son for the first time. “Liar,” that darker inner voice that lurks within me reticulates to whisper. “It’s her that has your heart racing. The Empress who has your dick hard at the thought of seeing her again.”
Not one to lie to myself I let the thought wash over me. Acceptance of my lust for this woman settles in along with incandescent rage spiraling through me at her audacity in thinking she would keep my child from me. He’s not some side dude’s by blow. He’s a fucking prince — like his father and his ancestors for millennia or more.
She will rue the day she thought to keep my child from me. I will take so much pleasure in showing her that her diva ways won’t be tolerated as the mother of my heir. She will learn that she breathes at my mercy. Break her, I shall. She made me her enemy she moment she knew she carried my heir and said nothing. The wrath of the Al Rasheed is well known the world over. She will have keen awareness of what running afoul of me brings.
“Your Highness,” My driver sweeping the door open, draws my attention away from my retaliatory musings.
“They await you aboard the plane. The tall woman is causing quite a fuss. Should we neutralize her?” Fariq inquires with an almost bored expression on his face, but I notice the way his jaw ticks. It’s rare anything elicits a reaction from him.
“Not yet. Take her somewhere where she won’t be able to collude with her friend.” I quirk my brow at the mutinous expression on his face. A modern day elite Janissary, a harden warrior and my personal guard; a friend all my life, I know when something is up with Fariq. Brow quirked, I wait for him to answer my silently inquiry.
Stoic stoniness drops over his expression. “I’ll see to it, Your Highness.”
Passing him with a brief nod, I head to the plane flanked by a cadre of handpicked soldiers.
Bounding up the stairs two at a time, I make little work of the distance. Bypassing the crew that has been secured and blindfolded in the cockpit, I stand at the front of the living space on the Airbus 380, FADE has outfitted to the specifications of his biggest star.
It’s a Creative Chaos plane, but is used exclusively by Lyric. The perks of being the biggest star in the world have no end.
It takes me seconds to find Ayaan curled his mother’s lap. He’s sleeping despite the commotion of Lyric’s friend Fifi, not to quietly demanding, “What the fuck is going on?” to Moussa, Fariq’s brother and my second in command.
He slow blinks and I can tell that he wants to neutralize her just as his brother asks.
“Shh.” Immediately, my gaze narrows on the cause of all this — Lyric. Idly she strokes Ayaan’s thick tousled curls, her eyes raking over me in an emotionless sweep of a gaze. She looks unsurprised. Good.
“Bring me my son, woman.” Harsh words erupt from me with a fury that has every person on the plane freezing. The hushed voices of the crew silence and even the vivacious friend’s mouth snaps close.
Gathering Ayaan with a meticulous slowness close to her small, curvy frame, Lyric rises. And damn if having my baby doesn’t look good on the little menace. Grabbing a bag, she pulls it over her other shoulder. The romper she wears throws me back to the one she wore the night we created our amazing blessing. My heart squeezes as she draws closer. I can’t take my eyes off him. Them. Throat tight, I swallow past the constriction. My heart is beating out my chest when she stops in from of me.
If I thought this was going to be a fight or she was going to make a scene, I would be wrong. It takes me a moment to realize she’s lifting him towards me. Just as I hold my arms out, his eyes open, bright sparkling and even brighter green than mine, that happens every other generation or so.
Confusion wrinkles his brow for a millisecond before his head whips around to his mommy, then back to me.
“Daddy?” he asks in the most sweet, melodious baby voice. Impossibly, he turns back and forth between Lyric and me, asking. “Mommy? Daddy?” So much hope in those words they nearly make my knees buckle.
“Yes, sugar, that’s daddy,” she coos, rubbing his back. Little feet kicking in some hard as fuck sturdy little shoes that catch me a couple times as he reaches for me. Astonishment that he knows me rockets through me so hard that it takes me a moment to adjust to yet another revelation.
Taking my squirming, excited little bundle, we face each other for a moment.
“Daddy.” Chubby little hands cup my face as he looks at me with delight.
“Hey, little prince.” I don’t trust myself with words beyond this point.
“Let’s go home, son.” I finally manage tucking him close, ready to deplane.
“Mommy.” He looks over my shoulder. “She’s coming.” Assuring him in this is all I can promise at the moment. Deciding to let her live long enough to explain herself.