CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
Her landline rang , which signaled it was probably her doorman calling. Anyone else knew to call her on her cell.
“Hello, Ms. Devereaux. This is Ralph at the front desk.”
She’d called it.
“Hi, Ralph. How may I help you?”
“There’s a Mr. Sherard and he’s here with four rather large men accompanying him. He’s asking for permission to come up. Should I buzz them in?”
Reigna pictured Sherard and who she imagined must be part of Jasiri’s security detail standing in front of the poor, elderly man who’d stood at the front of her building since it was erected decades ago, terrifying him with their mean faces and serious body language.
“I know who he is, Ralph. Please let the five gentlemen up. They’ll probably be another set of people following them. If one of them is a Jasiri Adebesi, please send them up.”
Reigna stepped away from the mountain of clothing strewn across her bed. Relieved to ignore the pile, if only for a few moments. She made her way to the front door of her penthouse to let Sherard and his goons in.
As soon as she opened the door, Sherard and two of his four men filled the space while the remaining two stood vigil on either side of the entryway.
“Sherard, it’s a bit early for your secret-agent-man routine. What do you want?”
“The ambassador is waiting to come upstairs. Before he can, his team will need to do a security sweep of your abode.”
When they’d first begun dating, this routine rattled her. She’d never dated a diplomat before. She’d had no idea they required so much security, especially from a little island most people hadn’t heard of. Now she was seasoned and knew what to expect, so she stepped aside, standing at the door with Sherard as he and the men started the sweep.
When they’d finished, Sherard directed the two security specialists at the door to remain while he instructed the other men to retrieve Jasiri.
“Did you put him up to this, Sherard?”
He turned around, meeting her gaze for the first time since he’d arrived at her apartment.
Sherard was a tall, solid man. An elder statesman that moved with grace and exuded cool detachment almost as well as her sister Regina.
His posture was perfect, and his manners impeccable. Even when he was being glib, it was so polite you couldn’t tell if you wanted to curse him out or curtsy in response.
His skin was a deep brown. High cheekbones and full lips with a smooth clean-shaven face, and only gray patches at his temples to hint at the decades he had on her and Jasiri.
He was Jasiri’s Alfred Pennyworth, always in the background, always taking care of Jasiri, and always working out a plan to protect the young diplomat.
“That is a safe assumption, Ms. Devereaux. It is of the utmost importance that the young Adebesi fulfill this requirement to spare his father and our country.”
“Is one ambassador really so important to a nation?”
He straightened his shoulders, as if they weren’t already straight enough to rest a platter of wineglasses safely on them.
“Yes, Ms. Devereaux. This ambassador is.”
His words were straightforward, but there was something about his delivery, about the way he stressed the word this that raised the baby hairs on the back Reigna’s neck. She ignored the prickles of trepidation crawling over her skin and chalked it up to the annoyance this man and his stiff and unapproachable demeanor had always stirred in her. Even when she and Jasiri were dating, she’d always had to resist the urge to roll her eyes whenever she came in contact with this pretentious traveling butler.
Before she could respond, her front door was opened by one of the men standing outside, and Jasiri entered.
“Reigna.” He took her in slowly as if he were assessing her, making sure she was all right.
She fought not to shrink under his gaze. She’d been weak enough in front of him. She wouldn’t embarrass herself any further.
“Sherard, I wish to speak to my bride alone.”
“Sir, that’s not protocol.”
“Sherard, I do not—”
“It’s okay, Jasiri. We can go to my home office to speak in private. Your men can remain inside the apartment.”
If Jasiri was as important as Sherard seemed to think he was, Reigna thought it better to be safe than sorry, even though she couldn’t imagine someone entering her fourteenth-floor penthouse.
Jasiri nodded, and she led the way to her office. She hadn’t changed anything about her apartment since he’d last been here two years ago. So, she wasn’t surprised to see him follow her easily along the corridors in the spacious apartment.
Her office was a monochrome ivory dream. Her walls, her desk and chair, the thick, plush rug, all the technological accessories, and furniture were ivory. Everything looked like heaven had exploded in this one room. There were splashes of beiges and browns throughout to bring just a pop of color to it, including the large beige-and-brown rendering of President Nelson Mandela, President Barack Obama, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, better known as Malcolm X, sitting comfortably, smiling and conversing as joy and respect spread between the four of them.
“What a time it would’ve been if those four great men had been gifted the chance to sit and talk about the greatness of our people across the diaspora.”
Warmth spread through her, making her lips curve into an involuntary smile.
“Ace used to say the same thing.”
Jasiri gave a brief tip of his head in acknowledgment. “I know. I’ve heard him say it multiple times. He had great admiration for those pillars in our community.”
Admiration was a mild word to describe the limitless pride and esteem Ace had had for those four men. He was in awe of their brilliance, their courage, and their commitment to the diaspora.
“You know,” Reigna smiled as she remembered and then spoke the very words Ace had spoken to her several times over, “he supported all of them during their individual movements. He walked with Malcolm and Martin during the sixties Civil Rights Movement. Malcolm and Martin might not have agreed with each other’s methods, but they both respected Ace and his respective love for each of them.”
Jasiri kept his eyes on the painting as if he was committing each stroke to memory. She didn’t blame him: the power the imagined moment captured was enough to captivate anyone who had a passable understanding of who these four leaders were and what they meant to Black people.
She walked closer to the wall, running a gingerly finger across the canvas as if touching it somehow allowed her to touch the greatness of the history depicted in the artist’s strokes.
“He visited Mandela frequently while he was imprisoned,” she continued. “He was there when he was released. And when Obama ran for president, Ace was so proud of him. He stood on the stage for President Obama’s victory speech, crying like a newborn baby. Barrack Obama was the one miracle he’d never thought he’d live to see.”
He stepped across the room until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with her.
“If you ask me,” Jasiri offered, “the painting is missing one illustrious man. Ace should’ve been included in this imagined meeting of the greats too.”
Reigna closed her eyes, not because grief was threatening to overwhelm her right now. No, it was because hearing someone else talk about Ace, painting him in the exact same greatness she’d always seen him cloaked in, felt warm and inviting.
She turned around, ready to share a smile with Jasiri when she remembered why he was there. As much as they both admired Ace, she couldn’t let that be the reason she let down her guard when it came to this man.
“So I assume you came to bring details of our trip to Nyeusi.”
She could tell her cool words had broken whatever spell reminiscing about her uncle had surrounded them. Part of her wished she could take her words back and just stay in that moment of kinship and peace between them. Jasiri may have been Ace’s friend, but he wasn’t hers. If she were going to survive this ordeal unscathed, she would have to remember that.
“I came to check up on you. To see how you are doing.”
She could see the concern marring the smooth skin of his forehead.
“I’m fine, Jasiri. It was noth—”
“How long have you suffered from panic attacks?”
“Jasiri, you’re imagin—”
He waved his hand, cutting off the lie she was gearing up to tell.
“I know what I saw, Reigna. You knew what was happening to you, even if you couldn’t stop it. That tells me the funeral wasn’t the first time this occurred. How long?”
Her heavy sigh filled the silence of the room. She didn’t know if it was resignation to admit to his observations or relief to be able to speak the words to someone else.
“I haven’t had one since I was a child.” Her voice was soft as she met his gaze. “Ace was the only one who knew.”
“Your parents and your sister didn’t know?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her tell that she was feeling out of her depth.
“I hid them. I’d lock myself in my room, run to my en suite bathroom and run the shower while I worked through them. They only ever flared up when my parents were fighting. Regina and I always ran to our own separate corners when that happened. Like neither of us wanted to acknowledge the hell that was being raised in our home.”
She sat down on her large ivory couch and waved her hand, silently inviting Jasiri to sit.
“Ace was visiting for dinner when my parents started going at it. Both Regina and I took off to our respective rooms. He must have gone to Regina’s room first, because it took him a few minutes before he knocked on my door. But when I didn’t answer, he panicked and used his pocketknife to unlock it.”
She twiddled with the hem of her dress, needing something to do with her shaky hands. She cleared her throat and continued in the same matter-of-fact tone she’d been using since he’d brought the topic up.
“He found me in the throes of an attack. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he sat on the floor next to me, pulled me into his arms, and cradled me until my heart stopped racing and I could breathe again. The next day, he made my parents an offer. If they’d divorce and my father agreed to the three of us moving into one of Ace’s houses, Ace would pay them five million dollars each and allow my dad to live in luxury rent-free.”
“And your attacks?”
The gentle, yet firm tone of his voice was generously seasoned with expectation. She should’ve revolted against it. None of this was his business, especially now when he was forcing her into a marriage that neither of them wanted to be in.
But beneath his calm, she could see his entire attention focused on her, and in some strange way, she felt almost comforted. He was listening to her with concern.
“Once Ace became our de facto parent and removed us from all that turmoil, they never came back. Not until…”
“Ace’s funeral.”
She didn’t have to reply. They both knew he was right. She looked up at him expecting to see pity or glee staring back at her. What she wasn’t prepared to see was compassion.
“I can’t imagine what my own response to that kind of trauma would’ve been. Thank God for Ace’s care. Reigna, I—”
“Jasiri,” she held up her hand to stop him. Whatever he was about to say wouldn’t change what they each needed from each other in that moment. At this point, they were only a means to an end. That’s all they could be.
“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. You care too much about your father to let me out of this ridiculous deal, so save whatever pretty words you think would make me feel better, and let’s get on with this. What did you come here to tell me?”
He straightened his shoulders before he spoke again, tucking whatever concern she’d seen in his eyes safely away.
“We need to marry on Nyeusian soil. It must happen quickly, as in a matter of days. Can you be packed and ready to leave by the end of the week? Will you be able to scrounge up a witness by then? If not, I can just appoint someone.”
“Regina would be my obvious choice as a witness.” She answered coolly as if she were just talking about something unimportant. Even though this marriage was fake, it had very real consequences. That made it feel like they shouldn’t be talking about it so casually.
“I know this isn’t a real marriage. But it kind of feels wrong to get married without my family beside me. At the very least, I feel like I should have my sister present.”
“Good,” he responded. “We’ll bring her along, then.”
If only her life were that simple. She fell back into the cushions of her sofa and sighed.
“I’m not sure that will be possible. She has a lot on her plate, now that I’m leaving. I don’t know if she’ll be able to leave the country right now just to watch me get fake-married.”
“Reigna,” he said as he stood and walked to her office door, “our relationship may be a lie, but this marriage will be very real, legal, and binding.”
The intensity in his voice made her spine stiffen, forcing her to stand as if she were preparing for an attack. What exactly did he mean by real, legal, and binding ?
As if he were reading her thoughts, he lifted a brow as he let his gaze sweep from her head to feet and back again. “I’ve never had a woman in my bed who didn’t expressly agree to be there, so you can wipe that worried look off your face. My expectation of this marriage is this. There will only be two people in this partnership, you and me. Infidelity is not an option on either of our parts. Are we clear, Reigna?”
Those words poured over her like fire on ice, melting something inside of her.
“Was that some sort of an accusation?”
He pushed his hands inside of his dress paints, creating a more imposing figure in front of her office door.
“It’s been two years since we’ve been together, Reigna. I don’t assume you’ve been living like a nun since then. Whoever may have been in your life up until this moment is irrelevant to me. Just know that whether we consummate this marriage or not, there will be no other men in your life until we are divorced. Are we clear?”
The chill his words had filled her with was giving way to her rising anger. She hated this version of Jasiri, the man who expected to have his orders followed when he spoke. He’d never shown his head while they were together. But from the moment she’d rejected his proposal, he always seemed to be present.
“Please don’t talk to me like I’m one of your little minions. Remember, I’m helping you get what you want too.”
His jaw ticked, and the immature child in her did a little victory dance in her head. If he wanted to act like a dictator, she’d check him every chance she could.
Whatever was running through his head, he must’ve decided to forgo speaking it because he reached inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out what looked like folded legal papers instead.
“I’ve had our prenuptial agreement drawn up. Have your lawyers check it over. Seeing as this marriage is happening so quickly, my lawyers suggest that we both film a declaration that neither of us is signing the document under duress. I’ve already filmed mine and signed the document. All that awaits is your signature, and we can get married.”
Efficient and direct. That was always Jasiri. It shouldn’t surprise her that he would carry out the process of their marriage the same way.
“I’ll try to figure out our dilemma of having your sister present. I’ll call when I have everything set up.”
With a brief nod, he opened her office door. She stayed rooted to her spot as she listened to his footsteps, joined by those of his entourage, clicked on her hardwood floors in the halls and living room before she heard her front door close with a resolute click.
This was really happening. She was marrying her ex, Jasiri Adebesi. All it had taken was Ace dying and Jasiri’s father nearly dying to bring it about.