Page 6 of Possessing the Prince

I pick up my paper towel for the second time and start wiping down the marble countertops and basins. He is either lying to me or in some criminal ring I know nothing about. I knew he wasn’t in the poor house, but a multimillionaire? It’s a little unbelievable. “Did you get some money from your biological father’s estate I don’t know about? Or have you suddenly turned into Sarkodie?”

This time, he laughs his full laugh and my heart leaps. “No, I have not turned to a life of crime or hip-hop. And I surely have not received anything from the Ashanti royal coffers. I simply have invested well over the past fifteen years. I have little to no living expenses and whatever Kofi invested in, I did too. It has made us both very rich men. So yes, Ms. Abena Owusu, I can afford to prepare our house to match a prince’s lifestyle and, frankly, I can afford your tastes as well. You will not spend one dime of your money while you’re married to me. As a matter of fact, I can tell you where to invest some of that money, if you’d like.”

Smart ass.“No, that will not be necessary. Just know what you signed up for. I am only sending you the bill from this moment forward.”

“Yes. That is the way I want it. Anything else we should discuss before this contract is finalized?”

“Senya. Why do you have this clause about a baby?”

“Because babies happen when people are married.”

“Yes, but we’re not having sex, so a baby will not happen.”

“It is insurance, Abena. I want to know that if something were to happen to me or between us and there was a baby involved that the baby would know he is royalty and be taken care of. I never want a child of mine to go through what I did. My child will never go without.”

No need to push him on this point. I won’t tell him the doctors say I may never have children due to the damage the years of drugs and alcohol did to my body. I’ve made peace with the fact; it’s my penance for all the pain I put my family through during the years. Anyway, I’m not fit to mother a child. I know this because I had an amazing mother before she died. And unfortunately, I’m nothing like her. I’m too much like my father, and his parental judgment is questionable at best.

“OK, Senya, whatever you say. The clause can stay. All my other questions were about money, but since you’ve made it clear that my money is no good in our marriage, I guess those questions are null and void.”

“Yes, they are. When do you arrive?”

“Tomorrow evening at 8 p.m.”

“Why didn’t you leave today?”

“Because I have a meeting this afternoon that I can’t miss.”

“With whom?”

This is getting out of hand.“Senya! Do you expect me to give you an accounting of every meeting I have now that we are…married? What is with the third degree?”

“Hmmmm…” he tutts before continuing. “I will have the royal envoy greet you and the contract will be signed and prepared for you in the car. Then, I will come see you the following day at your father’s house along with Kofi and Adom for the knocking.”

I exhale. The knocking, orkookoo ko,is when the potential groom comes with the men of his family to meet the men of mine. This is when Senya will formally ask my father for my hand in marriage and present gifts. Traditionally, the groom’s family brings schnapps to the bride’s father, and this time it’s absolutely needed. My father will need to be good and drunk for this to not end in disaster.

“OK, but are you sure you know the bride price to offer my father and Thomas so that they say yes on the first visit? Adom they like, but Kofi they hate. So, it will not be easy. You must convince them that you are serious about this marriage proposal.”

“I know, do not worry. I think we have a solid plan. Now continue packing and I will see you in two days. Bye, Precious.”

“Bye, Senya.”

I hang up the phone, upset that I am counting down the hours until I am with Senya. Freedom is so close, but the path is so precarious…God help us.

* * *

My conversationwith Senya makes my nerves stand on end every time I think about it. It’s no secret he wants this marriage of convenience to eventually become a real one. I wish I could give him what he is asking for, but I can’t. Once I truly shake my father, then I can really live. That starts by pushing my photojournalism career past my father’s limitations.

He always insisted I keep my career light, as my real life would be in Accra, but I never listened, much to his chagrin. My mother was a brilliant painter who never got to pursue her art because my father forbade it. I was determined for that to never happen to me.

This afternoon, I am sitting in one of Frogmore Cottage’s many parlors and The Duchess of Kent’s personal secretary is meeting with me to go over the final yearlong contract for me to serve as chief photographer on the Duke and Duchess of Kent’s visit to Australia. This job is a dream come true. The Duke’s new Duchess asked for me specifically. I am so proud—she is a Black woman, and I want to capture everything for her perfectly.

“Ms. Owusu, I’m ready to see you now.” A bright woman with sparkly blue eyes and creamy white skin smiles and holds out her hand. She is obviously pregnant but still incredibly stylish. I stand and walk over to shake her hand before following her into her office.

“Have a seat, Ms. Owusu.”

“Please, call me Abena.” I take one of the seats in front of her beautiful black lacquer desk.

“Wonderful, I’m Sophie.” She shoots me a smile that looks genuine. If I accept this contract, she may be one the only other person, who isn’t a royal, on the yearlong journey with me. I already know that I like her. “Have you had a moment to look over the contract?”

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