Page 45 of Craving a King

“Yes. That will do.” The wine is poured and brought to me within seconds. I start to sip and read. The contract reads as a common betrothal agreement at first, but then the language turns. There is talk about stocks, the exchange of funds, and investment portfolios. Clauses that allude to an adjustable interest loan and the acquittal of debt. It slowly becomes clear that what I’m reading belongs in a bank, not a wedding chapel.

“What is this?” I look around at the Owusus. Thomas is now sporting a slick grin! His father is the one that speaks. “In its most basic form, it is a contract that allowed your father to borrow eight million dollars from me to clear personal debts he incurred. Your father, as I’m sure you know, was a good man. However, you may not know that he gambled. A lot.”

I shake my head and slam the contract onto the table. “You’re lying, and you will pay for your words.”

The chief does not flinch. “I wish I was, but the entire debt is documented. This is very real. Your father refused to use any of the Ashanti treasury to take care of his family and lifestyle. He was too honest for that. So, he came to me to pay for your private schools, cars, and land to build forest homes on. In exchange, he promised you would marry my daughter. If not, all the money would come due immediately with interest. So, you see, if you don’t honor the betrothal, your family will owe mine a little over 92 million U.S. dollars. Thomas did the math for me this morning.” He chuckles. “I’m not so great with numbers myself.”

I sit in shock for as long as I can stand it. I’m never comfortable being put in a weaker position. I stand and turn to Abena. “You knew about this? You were OK with being treated as property in a banking transition?”

She averts her eyes from mine and looks to her father. “I’m OK with taking care of my family. An Owusu will one day be Asantehene through my womb. That is my family’s right according to this contract, and I tend to hold you to it.”

So, there it is. It’s all about money and power. She doesn’t care for me one iota. I always knew that, but the money aspect of it makes it worse. How can she stomach marrying a man she doesn’t love? No matter, she will never have the chance.

I move to the center of the study to address the room. “This has been most enlightening. And though I admire your devotion to your family, Abena, I could never marry a woman I do not love. I hope that one day you realize you deserve to have the same attitude. Unlike my father, I am not a gambler nor am I bad with money. As you know, I’m worth ten times the total of this loan with interest and will gladly pay the balance to be done with it all.”

Suddenly, a booming laugh cuts through the room. It’s Thomas. He knocks back a glass of brown liquid before continuing. “Your majesty, do we look strapped for money?” He gestures all around the room. “We don’t need or want your money. We want an Owusu on the throne. And he will be, or everyone will know what a gambling drunkard your father was.” He dares to stalk over to me and sneer. “Everyone will know how weak Ajyei blood really is. We’ve always known.”

I see red and slam Thomas to the floor by his neck. Abena screams something about me being a maniac. But I don’t give a damn. I place my knee in his chest and land the perfect punch that breaks his nose. Before I can go in for another, I am pulled back by a strong set of hands. I turn to fight my new foe when I look and see it’s a familiar presence. Senya. When did he get here? “Let’s go, your majesty. That’s enough!” He attempts to pull me from the sniveling Thomas, but I refuse.

“Get off of me, Senya. That’s an order!” He ignores me and nods to his second to grab my other arm and assist him. The second hesitates, and Senya chides him to not be a punk. They manage to get me off of him and stand me up.

Once Thomas rises with the help of his father and sister, holding his now-bloody nose, he decides to make idle threats. “You’re lucky you’re the king, or that would have gone a lot differently,” he shouts, pointing at me.

I shake my right hand to loosen it from the pain of breaking the fool’s nose. I look him dead in the eye so he does not mistake my words. “You shouldn’t have held back. I just beat your ass as Kofi, not as the Ashanti king. That was personal.” I turn to look at the chief. “Owusu. I am not marrying your daughter. You can spread all the gossip you like. I will have my bankers wire your money first thing in the morning.” I turn to walk away, but he shouts after me.

“Wait! Have you no honor?” he shouts. “You don’t fulfill your family’s promise to mine and assault family in my own home. Yes! All will hear of it. I hope that little American wench you’re lying with is worth the legacy of your reign, Kofi Ajyei.” His robust body shakes in anger as he continues. “Any king that can be brought down by a whore is not worth the golden stool he sits upon!”

I pause. “That will be the last time you will ever speak to me or about Ella Jenkins that way. If I ever hear of it again, I will have your chieftaincy within the hour of your disrespectful words. Count it a blessing that you’re an old man. Otherwise, I would afford you the same courtesy I just gave your son.” He says nothing in return and stands trembling. Good—he’s not a total fool.

I gather the copy of the contract and stalk for the door, Senya and his one-man security team following behind me as we leave the Owusu home. Once I reach my car, Senya takes my keys. “I will drive you—you need to rest. I will collect my motorcycle tomorrow.” I nod and slink in the back of the Range Rover.

I lie down in the car wondering if I can live up to all the hype I just created. Will I really let my father’s legacy be tainted? Will I allow more family secrets to overtake the press as they did when my mother died 25 years ago? How will our regime survive such a scandal? Even though my father never touched Ashanti or government funds, people will assume he did as a gambler. There will be council meetings, inquests, and endless drama.

Loving Ella and wanting to be free to marry her is acceptable for Kofi, the man. However, it’s unacceptable for the 20th Asantehene of the Ashanti Nation to be free in love. Maybe it’s time I returned to the service of being king.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Aftermath

Ella

Imiss Kofi this morning, but I am glad to have some time alone.

I realize since I’ve been in Ghana, I’ve neglected a lot of my stateside responsibilities. I’m using today to check on my various school network offices across the United States. Most importantly, now that all my work is done, I get to talk to Maya.

When I call, Adom is at her side. He’s been there every day since he returned from Ghana. Maya tries to sound annoyed about it, but I know that’s not the case. After just nine days since her accident, she shares good news that she may get the all-clear to start physical therapy soon. They started calling her themiracle modelon her hospital wing. The healing process will be long, but it’s already going well. “My goal is to be walking in heels again by Christmas,” Maya chirps. I laugh.

“Maya, Christmas is five months away…how in the world do you think you’ll be able to walk in your four- and five-inch heels?” She giggles back.

“Oh, ye of little faith! You know I get anything done that I put my mind to.” She is absolutely right. The girl never met a goal or project plan she didn’t like. We spend the next three hours on the phone laughing and joking. Our last hour is exclusively dedicated to Kofi. I give her all the juicy details and she is more than happy to play the part of the squealing, excited best friend. “I told you! That man had a plan for you before you even got there. Look at you now, laid up in the forest with that African god. I can hardly stand it I’m so jealous!”

“What do you have to be jealous about? You have your own African hunk waiting on you hand and foot. Adom is completely infatuated with you. I think he always has been.” Maya sighs in relief and appreciation.

“Yeah, he’s been great, Ella. But let’s not get it twisted—he’s no Asantehene. Plus, he’s so damn bossy. I always knew Adom had a diagnosis of obsessive-compulsive disorder—he told me that back in college. However, it is a totally different matter when I am the subject of his obsession. The nurses that wanted to fawn all over him now avoid him like the plague. He makes sure that they give me the exact dosages of pain meds at the exact times only. He’s so worried I’ll end up with an opioid dependence.”

I laugh—that sounds exactly like something Adom would obsess over. Maya continues, “If I have pain outside of that, he prays or reads and sings to me in his native language, Twi, to calm me down before he will allow me to call for more meds. The crazy thing is, it works! He’s crazy clean, and actually cleans up after the housekeeping staff. He refuses to let me wear the hospital gowns, stating they are made of synthetics. Ella, the man had pure cotton and silk hospital gowns commissioned and made for me within 24 hours after he arrived! He’s too much!”

I laugh with Maya until tears stream down. I realize how much I miss my friend. We talk a bit more before she nods off to sleep.

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