Page 19 of Good As Hell

Which leads me to looking my parents straight in their eyes as I admit, “Lyric, gave birth to my child, a son — his name is Ayaan, last year without my knowledge. I found out when it hit the press and Khadijah showed me his picture.”

I let the news and its meaning sink in. “When I became aware of it I brought them here for their safety.” Steepling my fingers, I let the meaning of my words lie between us, saving them from any implication of wrongdoing.

“You’ve caused an international incident, son. This person,” my father points to name circled in the second paragraph of the article, “Prosper Shipmoore is insisting that Lyric was taken off her private plane and forced here against her will. Where is she, son?” Low intense words let me know that my father fears the worst. He more than anyone knows how ruthless I can be if I am wronged.

“Hassan—” my mother’s mournful voice beseeches me when I don’t answer.

I’ve let them meddle enough in my life by going through with this wedding when I’d rather continue my pursuits in America. Sadiq and I both knew he was more ill-suited for this role than I. He would have abdicated with the first sign of Lovie-Belle showing any type of distress, and since I’d been betrothed already I went along with it. However, I draw the line when it comes to Lyric and my son. I will deal with her as I choose.

“They are both safe.” Is all I give them. I don’t need my father’s advisors in my business.

“We have to get ahead of this you understand?” Umm, says in a gentle tone that has my father shooting her a hard look. I know he wants to yell but he’d never do so in front of his beloved.

“The press are already outside our doors. Poor Khadijah has been inundated with calls since the news broke. She is so bewildered and upset. Her father sent for her, to take her awayfrom this circus.” Umm says forlornly. She loves Khadijah like a daughter.

“How do you know this boy is your son?” Skepticism laces every hard word Baba utters.

“See for yourself. The first picture Khadijah showed us I barely paid attention to it thinking it was gossip.” Umm hands Baba her phone. Eyes wide, then mouth pressing into a grim line he states. “To secure the succession the council wide demand a DNA test.”

Nodding, I meet his unwavering gaze. I had one administered the night I retrieved them from the plane knowing this demand would eventually come.

“To mitigate any further problems you need to bring Lyric and Ayaan here so we may meet them. We will then take a few questions from the press and will have to make statement substantiating your claims. That is the only way. The US ambassador is already at my door demanding to know what is going on. He says she’s a Goodwill Ambassador for the UN and a personal friend of the president. I must be able to tell him something. You have three hours.” He sweeps from the room with my mother hot on his heels trying to soothe his distemper.

“Fuck.” Slamming my hand down on the newspaper, I crush it in my fist.

The fact that I kept my cool when Baba mentioned Bishop and Porter Shipmoore’s sister, Prosper was a feat in itself. Beautiful and a total fucking nuisance that is what she is — at least to affluent men who wives had chosen to leave them. Her, I will deal with at another time . The fight I now I have is with another difficult woman.

“The princeand Mistress Lyric are here, Your Highness.” I look up to Fariq stepping inside my office. He’ s pushed the door closed, so we won’t be overheard. The palace is a notorious hub of gossip. Though many of the staff are loyal and we rarely have leaks, Lyric, being who she is will throw all protocol out the window.

I’d not left my office since my parents left earlier. I had too many pieces to move on this chessboard of a situation. Bin Saladin has created a wrinkle that cannot be avoided.Only true heirs of Bin Saladin will be recognized.A neat little addendum Khadijah’s father added that at the time I had absolutely no problem agreeing to. All of that is moot now. The man is entirely too prideful. He will take this situation as an affront to his daughter. Already my assistant is fielding calls from him.

Before I make the decision and only true solution I have at this point thanks to the damnable meddling of Prosper Shipmoore, I must speak to the man and see if he will at lest see reason.

“Has she been briefed?” I ask him. He along with his brother and mine knows all my secrets. They were there the night to greet Lyric when she came off the elevator. If need be they can attest to the fact she stayed all night and well into the next day. DNA will not be enough when politics and the sucession is at play.

“Yes, on the way here. She’s requested to have Fi come to do her hair and make-up for the news conference.” His expression tells me nothing but the familiarity he’s using with the friend is enough.

“You will have to make sure they do not collude. Who can we trust in the women’s section?” His mouth presses into a firm line, his jaw clenches as he looks away and nods.

“Aliah,” he says offering his sister’s name without hesitation.

“She will be Lyric’s mu’allima. I have to have my most trusted people around my son.” He stiffens in attention at this praise and follows by giving me the rare salute.

“You honor my entire family, Your Highness.” He bows in gratitude. Lyric is the mother of the future king, so this is a great honor. It matters not if she’s my wife. Being part of her household elevates every person in it.

After acknowledging his gratitude, I turn to the other task at hand— calling the father of the woman whose dreams I’m about to crush.

“CanI talk to you for a moment?” Lyric looks up to me with solemn eyes filled with hope as soon as I stride into the room. She’s looks like the stuff of dreams. Her hair cascading down her curvy petite frame in deep lavish ebony waves. Though I loved touching her natural hair, the magnificence of the wig does justice to the occasion. She’s dressed in the American fashion but the light green wrap dress is very respectful of the traditions of my people. The colors match Ayaan’s princely attire, though he’s dressed in traditional Moroccan fashion with a tunic and pants.

“No.” Stepping past her, I scoop Ayaan up from where he’s playing on the floor.

“Baba.” He smiles, throwing his arms around me.

I feel Lyric shifting behind me. “Hassan, please. I need?—”

“Now is not the time. We have to meet my parents, then have this press conference.” Keeping my voice level as I can so I don’t upset our son. The look I give her is fierce enough to have her take a step back. All this shit is her fault. Bin Saladin is furious and his daughter is heart broken. He would not listen to reason, as I knew he wouldn’t. No man of his stature would allow his daughter to be second to someone they feel falls so far short of her in status. He raged for the better part of an hour. However, when he would not agree to amend the marriage contract to allow for Ayaan, I had no choice but to end the entire engagement. The statement to the press has already been announced. Moving quickly to offset any designs, the council or my parents have, I acted alone.

No sooner than the news hit did they hurry back into my office, making demands. I don’t take well to being told what to do, so I informed them unless they were willing to wait for my sister who is still in college to marry then they needed to give me the space and time to navigate this situation as I see fit.

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