Page 3 of Possessing the Prince

“You will not hurt me, Abena.” She is skittish and I don't want her moving away from me and our intimacy. “We have been making love so long now, Abena. I do not think my body would refrain from calling out to yours in a room. Speaking of which, when I walk away, I want you to sneak off to the bathroom until I call you to the car. I have got plans for you tonight.” I kiss her cheek and laugh, hoping she will feel the levity. She does not.

“Senya. I’m serious. If you are going to be hurt, I’d rather just cut my losses and run away to America without my father’s money. Maybe I can hide out for a year. I won’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.”

Anger tenses my muscles. She knows I hate when she talks about running away. Plus, I am not a simpleton who wears his feelings on his sleeve. “Do not worry about me. I will be fine.” My words come out as a growl.I need to calm down.Touching her always works. I reach out and place a few strands of hair behind her ear. “And stop talking of running away to America. This will all work out. You never know, Abena—you might like being married to me.”

She gives me a somber look. “Senya…I‘m serious. I have to divorce you after one year. Trust me, it’s for the best. I’m too fucked up to be anyone’s wife. Anyway, you will be a prince. I can’t be a proper consort to you if I’m on another continent.”

She is talking crazy.I am only becoming prince so that I can have her.Her father has really done a number on her. I capture her lips before she can spout any more of the self-hating nonsense she seems to believe. She is a brilliant and beautiful woman. When I am done loving her, she will gladly serve as consort and I will be a happy prince. I will use our 365 days of marriage to heal all her wounds. I will make every crooked place inside her heart and body straight, and at the end of it all, she will never want to leave. She will let me love her. She will beg me to kiss her breathless, as I am doing now. Because there is no way on Earth I am ever letting her go once she officially becomes mine.

I’m not waiting until we say “I do” to launch my campaign…The clock starts now.

Abena

Senya is always on a mission.

Tonight, his mission is to make me come…a lot. He is determined to make me his for the long term. When he agreed to help me by entering a marriage of convenience, I thought it was simply an extension of our long friendship. I know he has a bit of a fixation on me, but I ignore it because I crush on him, too. He’s gorgeous, successful, and typically full of the false humility required to act as the right hand to a king. But things have changed…and rightly so. He’s feeling himself and has tossed the façade aside.

To be honest so have I. Senya and I are similar in art way, we’ve always had to wear masks. To others I’m usually stone cold and unbothered. I am only my true self with Senya and my nuclear family. But now, I’m tired of having be aloof and hard to thrive. I just want to live free enough to be me.

As I smooth down my dress one last time, Senya kisses me on my cheek and taps my ass. “Wait a minute before you walk out behind me. The crowd is picking up out there. I will meet you in a bit. When I call, come quickly. Do not linger.”

Watching him walk away gives me chills. Senya’s movements are powerful, sexy and smooth. He pauses, takes his jacket off, and slings it over a shoulder, putting his incredible ass on full display. It is a sight to behold. The muscles in his backside are hard enough to crack a kola nut.

I hate that we can’t leave our spontaneous corner of pleasure together. It’s unbelievable how quickly he turned my body into a waterfall in the middle of a packed international gala.That shit was hot.I hate feeling like we have to hide. But walking out together would cause a scandal.

I am self-conscious as I move back out into the crowded room. There are over one thousand people here, and the only friend I have needs to keep his distance. I could go back to my family’s table to say good night, but I won’t because my father invited that nasty old man. I refuse to be anywhere near Michael Apeagyei ever again. He refuses to keep his hands to himself, and something about him is dangerously off. My father and brother, Thomas, won’t miss me. They probably think I went home. I warned them I would not stay long.

As I walk through the crowd, I notice the hooded stares and hear the soft whispers. I am reminded…I have no friends in Accra. When I’m home in London, I am Abena Owusu, celebrated royal photographer, compassionate volunteer, and introverted artist. People clamor and buzz around me constantly. I love it.

But when I’m here in Accra, I am Chief Owusu’s daughter, a self-centered, and snobby bitch. My father always has me involved in one scheme or another, and I never made friends because I knew he would find a way to use them as leverage against me. Even worse, he might extort them or their families.He’s good at that.A perfect example was forcing me to make a claim on Kofi and I’s betrothal contract when he declared his love and intentions for his now-wife, Ella.

I refused for a while, but then he and Akua put on the high pressure. They went at me for a full day, going on and on about how I was the key to keeping the Ashanti Empire strong and pure. I thought I was doing something for the integrity of our kingdom. In reality, I was just a pawn for my father to fill his coffers and expand his influence.

I hated myself for it and was so glad nothing came of it. When Kofi threw himself on the sword of the council for Ella, I felt nothing but relief. People hate my father’s unbridled ambition, and since I’m the tool he uses most to get what he wants, they hate me, too. One day, I will make things right with Ella.

I catch Senya’s eye as I slip into the restroom. How he keeps his eye on me in a crowd this large, I don’t know. He moves like a ghost: always where I need him, when I need him most. He winks at me from across the room, and I blush before slipping into the ladies room.

Once inside, I take a seat in the lounge area on a chaise and massage my sore feet. These Aquazzura pumps are the devil. Five inches may be my limit, but I love standing over six feet in a crowd. With Senya being six-foot-eight, the additional height is a nice touch.

As I sit and rub my feet, I begin to reflect on how long Senya and I have been friends. No one else knows how long Senya and I have been riding for each other; He’s truly been my only friend for eighteen years. He is the only person I confide in.The only person I trust.

The day we met, he declared I’d be his only friend. When I asked him why, his face was sad and serious. “Because you are fascinating, and you will never use me to get to Kofi. Everyone else just sees me as a path to the king. You do not care about me or Kofi…you will do.”

I stifle a chuckle. That was my first peek at his true nature. Just like his brothers, he is a boss with an edge. Kofi is regal, Adom is arrogant, and Senya is powerful. Kofi accomplishes nothing without Senya’s strategic mind and moves. But many people ignore him and relegate him to the background. Sure, they are scared of his brute strength—Senya is quick to action if he thinks you will endanger the king, crown, or country. But people see that power as an extension of Kofi. I know better, because I truly know him. He is powerful in his own right.

I remember that first day we decided to live as friends like it was yesterday. It was my first year at Oxford and I was in my flat after an all-night bender. I had only just found out that I was promised to Kofi Agyei, the future Asantehene, in some archaic betrothal agreement. I felt like a prisoner in my own family. I searched out and found a party to get lost in. I did a couple lines of coke and drank until I passed out. Senya found me laid out on a bathroom floor and shook me awake. I’ll never forget his scowling face. He took me home and on the way, I fell asleep. To this day, he will not tell me how he knew where I was.

Senya must have bathed me and put me to bed, because I woke up clean and tucked under blankets. Next to my bed was a note and medicine for me to take. The note simply said to eat the food left in the fridge for me, take the medicine, and not to leave the flat until he returned. Even his penmanship was commanding.

Before then, I’d only seen him as Kofi’s sidekick. I knew nothing of consequence about him. No one did, really. Even Kofi did not know where Senya truly came from. He was simply a servant in the king’s house, but not in the traditional sense. He’d become Kofi’s best friend. He took care of him and also broke arms for fun if anyone crossed him. He’d been a large man with quite the temper back then. But he was also quiet and contemplative in his own way.

Senya showed up in my dark room later that day and snuck up behind me while I was developing some film. His strong hands squeezed my waist and I jumped. I remember asking him why he was there.

“Because we’re going to be friends,” he stated matter-of-factly. I knew better than to argue…and in any case, I didn’t want to.

My dark room is my true happy place—if he had been anyone else, I would have thrown him out immediately. Senya was impressed that I was a photographer. Meanwhile, I was impressed by the way he looked in his Polo jeans and V-neck T-shirt. I announced an impromptu photo shoot and he acquiesced. He stripped and I shot him at every angle imaginable. The finished product reminded me of Janet Jackson’s “Love Will Never Do Without You,” video. His sexy dark skin was the perfect contrast to my white backgrounds. In the end, he was naked, and I was wet. But he didn’t touch me.

“You belong to the king,” he said. “But you will not be tied to Kofi forever.”

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