Page 7 of Craving a King

Chapter Five

Hospitality

Ella

Ifake sleep on the ride to his home to ensureKing Ajyeidoesn’t say another word to me.

I can’t believe he had the audacity to speak to me the way he did, when he is the one clearly in the wrong. I won’t even dare to think what he called me in Twi. He just yelled out “Wahala” in the middle of his diatribe. I will make sure I look that up later. All of this trouble, when he could have just quickly agreed to stay in his palace if he really wanted me to avoid a hotel. Clearly, he was only interested in things going his way.

I bet he is just trying to get into my pants!Sophisticated playboy chief with a woman for every occasion!The passages I read in the tabloids come rushing back to my memory. Any grown man knows you don’t bring a woman you just met to sleep in your home without her knowledge unless she’s a woman you think will sleep with you for a contract. Well, I’m not the one. He’s probably played this same game before. Rushing oblivious women to cabins in the forest when they think they’re going to a hotel, or worse…HOME! Oh my God! What if he’s a rapist?! King or not, my hotel better be rebooked and ready for me tomorrow, or I’m on the first plane back to Atlanta.

We pull up to a steep driveway and proceed up a gravel drive for at least a half a mile. I sit up and take note.How in the hell will I be able to escape down this driveway if I need to?Only a SUV can even make it up here, and there’s no guarantee Uber will even find it.The sight of Bonbiri halts my emergency planning. It is a breathtaking cabin, if you can even call it that. Remodeling my own home has me addicted toArchitectural Digest, HGTV, and the HOUZZ website, but I’ve never seen anything like his home.

First off, it’s perched on a hill. When we arrive at the top, light breaks out from every angle to fully illuminate the home. It is made entirely of mahogany wood and glass. There are too many windows to count, and it is massive! It is modern, but woodsy. The second floor has wraparound decks, and the roof is hard lines of steel. It truly is a work of art. Without thinking, I gasp. “Beautiful.”

Kofi stirs and brushes my hand. “Thank you, I am pleased you like it,” he whispers. Now that he’s calm, I hear the precise British accent he shares with Senya again.

I snatch my hand away. Owner of a beautiful oasis or not, he’s still on my shit list.

Once Senya stops the car, he and Kofi hop out. Kofi comes to my door and immediately offers his hand. I bypass it and jump out. He smirks. Senya grabs my bags and I follow Kofi to the door. The doors are massive stone carvings. They remind me of something from Tudor castles of the past. Totally over the top. Next, I’m eye level with lion head door knockers and I cannot resist laughing.

“What is causing you to laugh?” Kofi asks as he leads me into a foyer that is half the size of my entire apartment.

I try to contain my merriment. “I’m sorry, but the entrance to your house is so intense. The stone-carved doors are a bit medieval. But your door knockers…” My laughter returns. “Lion heads? Really? They’re so on the nose. It’s like a scene from the movieComing to America. What’s next? A lionskin rug?”

He looks perplexed. “Fortunately, I have never viewedComing to America, so I cannot confirm nor deny the comparison.” His jaw hardens. “However, I think you are trying to tell me my door knockers are gauche?”

Who the hell uses the word gauche?“We will have to fix that. Everyone must seeComing to Americaat least once! I can’t believe you’ve never heard of it.”

He shuts the door and turns to me. His jaw is still tense, and his eyes are penetrating my soul. “You misunderstand. I know of Eddie Murphy’s movie. I just refuse to see it. It is a mockery of African culture. It contributes to misguided views of my homeland. I refuse to support propaganda passed off as comedy. I certainly hope it is not your view of Africa. You cannot build schools in a community that you view as a joke.” He turns on his heel and throws a command over his shoulder, “Come.” We walk farther into his home past the foyer. However, I still have so much to say. So, I say it to his back.

“How is it propaganda if it’s true? You literally have lion heads as door knockers to your home. That is something you would see in that movie. Where’s the lie? It is because I understand the diversity of Africa that I can laugh at the satire ofComing to Americaand separate the wheat from the tare.” He pauses and turns to finally face me. I seize the moment. “You, sir, take yourself too seriously.” I brush by him and turn in the direction of the stairs ahead of me. “Now, will you please just show me my room for the night? I assume the rooms are upstairs.” I start toward the staircase.

As I move up the stairs that seem to go on forever, he follows me. He let me have theComing to Americabattle, but I have a feeling that will not be our last skirmish. We arrive at the first landing and he pauses at the stairs. “We will continue up the stairs—there are two rooms to the right and one on the left. You can pick whichever one you like. They are all en suite.” The massive steel-roped staircase seems to float in the air. Once we reach the top, I turn and inadvertently bump into his large frame. He smells like musk, nutmeg, and cinnamon. So this is what African royalty smells like. Up close his skin is as smooth as a Hershey bar and undoubtedly just as sweet. I want to take a bite of him. “This way, Ella.” He passes me on the top step and begins to lead the way. He opens a door just ahead to our right.

“This is your first choice. I call it the rainforest.”

I can see why. The walls are draped in mossy green fabrics and the bed boasts blue and gray silk linens. The paintings are of villagers at the river fishing and swimming, along with colorful abstract paintings of animals in the forest. It is a captivating room.

“This is beautiful, your majesty. Did you design it yourself?”

He nods as he closes the door. “I did. I designed every space in this home, because it’s mine. It doesn’t belong to Ghana or the Ashanti. It belongs to me. I purchased the land and building materials with the money my mother left me at her death. My mother’s family was very rich, as my grandfather invested in Nigerian oil fields. I invested the rest of the money, which makes up the fortune I currently have.” He continues down the hall to the next room with a wistful look. “I thought about all the things she loved about Africa when designing it. The rainforest, the desert, and the river. Come. Let me show you the Sahara room.”

Kofi starts to resemble an actual human being with every step we take. In this moment, he certainly isn’t a man who is trying to seduce me at his sex pad in the woods. He is a sovereign allowing me to stay in the place he deems as a tribute to his mother. As we come to the Sahara room, he opens the door and I can see it is even more beautiful than the rainforest room.

“Oh my!” I gasp. “Your majesty, I’ve never seen shades of gold and red like this before. Where do you source your textiles?”

“Please, Ella, call me Kofi.” He gives me a mischievous look as he comes closer to tease. “What do you know of textiles?”

“Well…King.” I clear my throat. No matter how informal he tries to be with me, I am not ready to be informal with him. “I too have a home I designed and call my own in Atlanta. It’s my little piece of heaven. I picked everything down to the table linens. So, I understand your effort and appreciate it. It’s like a peek into who you truly are. That’s how my home is for me, and also why I don’t let just anyone in.”

“Ahh!” He steps closer to me and places his hands on my shoulders. So close, I think he might kiss me. Instead, he speaks. “So maybe you can understand the gravity of my gesture? I was genuinely attempting to honor you by inviting you to stay in my home. I never thought it would offend.”

This man has got some serious game. I will not fall for it. “Maybe, I understand that. Maybe I don’t. The jury is still out.” I pull away from his hands. “Please show me the last room. Since you’ve shown me the desert and the rainforest, the river is the last one, right?”

He gestures for me to leave the room before him. “Yes, the river room is last. Come.”

During the walk down this long hallway, I am getting a good look at his ass and thighs. In his black jeans, I can see that both are rock hard and full of power. I start to think of the possible effect of that force on my body. I need to stop. We are most definitely not going there. As he approaches the cedar barn door on his left, he turns to address me.

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