Page 15 of Shâhzâdeh

“You haven’t been gone that long, you think a return trip is necessary?” Midas knew how this side of the family behaved and I was sure he was wishing he had time to pull up on me and travel to Tehran. He knew how much protection and clout I had in Iran, but it still didn’t stop him from worrying.

“I have eyes zhere. And me being in zhe same country as Kamran isn’t advised right now, but it’s necessary. If I wasn’t assured of zhe plans zhat were in place, I wouldn’t be able to resist taking his head from his neck. Zhere are too many pieces left to put into place for zhat to happen so I will move within zhe bounds of reason until everyzing is ready.”

“What are you thinking?” I could hear the laughter in his voice and I wasn’t sure if he was doubting my ability to act right or the plan.

“I’m going to have to lure him here. Despite how much it angers me to do so. But zhat will be later down zhe line. For now, I will let him squirm. I have business scheduled wiz Afshin wizin zhe month so I will be heading zhere soon.” I leaned back in my office chair looking at the number of items that would need to be packed up.

“Afshin still gunning for my spot as favorite cousin?”

I grinned unable to not poke at him. “Since he’s technically my uncle, your spot is secure.”

“You act like that’s the only reason.”

“I mean—”

“Get yourAladdinass off my fucking phone. I know you don’t need them, but we got you if you get into some shit over there.” The smile was in his voice even as he offered help he knew I would never need.

My eyes went to the photo of Vanya I kept from Liam’s wedding. His photographer had the candid shot of her framed so she was the only one in it. In her maid of honor dress, and with her head thrown back, she was joy personified. “I’ll never knock zhe help, but hopefully zhey all move like zhey have sense.”

Midas’ sarcastic huff broke me out of my revelry. “On that note, let me have my Black ass in Dubai on standby. Mansa could use a vacation.”

VANYA

I LOOKED IN the mirror cataloging the face that stared back at me. The freckles that were almost the same color as my hair that littered my skin as though they were the melanin I was seemingly missing. The pale skin that looked like butter pecan ice cream that the only mother I’d ever known had tried to bleach into her acceptable range of paleness. Curly hair that wouldn’t stay straight despite the years of damage and torture it had endured, curling up around my head and shoulders in a mass of coils, kinks and curls that I always wondered which parent gave to me. The almost carrot red color had been what radicalized me into loving myself when, for so long I was taught that nothing about me was deserving. The full lips, amber-colored eyes that were too brown to be hazel but too light to be brown and a nose that ensured my ethnicity was seen all over my face. It wasn’t something I’d ever wanted to change despite the daily reminders for years that I should. That the features I thought made me unique made those who were supposed to love me despise me. There had been a point where they’d almost won. Almost beaten down my confidence to a point where I wouldn’t recover. But my fortitude ran far deeper than they thought. I would silently combat the negativity knowing one day I would get away from it. Now, every morning, I repeated to myself that I loved me just the way I was and no one’s opinion of me would change it. I’d done that since the morning of my wedding when I’d been told the only thing I could hope to be was a good wife, despite my husband already being disappointed in me. That I needed to do whatever was necessary to earn his love.

These words from my adoptive mother. Everything about what I would need to sacrifice and nothing about what I would gain by being his wife. I guess I should thank her because at least she hadn’t lied to me. I’d made plenty of sacrifices and the only gain was the desire to experience nothing like that again.

“Let’s make today better than yesterday.” I smiled at myself appreciating the way my full cheeks made my eyes squint. I loved what I saw when I looked in the mirror and that meant the world to me.

That was all I had sometimes. The hope that today would be better than yesterday. The childhood dreams I’d had were gone. Buried in the wind once the veil of who I was adopted by lifted from my eyes. For so long, I wanted to be a good Mormon. To be bound to the family that chose me for eternity. Sealed with them in not only public record, but in the church as well.

But puberty taught me who I could and couldn’t trust.

My having an opinion was the first tolling of the bell of my delusions. Questioning why I wasn’t given the same opportunities as the other foster children led to beatings. My strength seen as a negative instead of a point of pride. I was never disrespectful, but I had read enough books to know that I enjoyed learning. Had a thirst for it and a talent for deciphering complex concepts several grade levels ahead of where I was in our homeschool curriculum. My adoptive mother had no issue with my intelligence when it could ease the burden of running the house, but for my betterment alone? That was sacrilege.

My job in life it seemed was to make hers easier. Once I moved out of the adorable little girl stage, she wanted to have another little doll she could dress up that didn’t have thoughts or opinions. They’d apparently learned from the mistake of adopting me and my ex so they only fostered children between a certain age. Once that age came and went, they would finally work with an agency to get the kids back to their parents or to adopt them out to other homes. I couldn’t recount the number of siblings I’d had over the years. They’d started to blur together despite my having been the primary caregiver to many of them. When my older foster brother could go to public school, I had to stay home and help take care of the kids. That meant staying up all night and most of the day so that my adoptive mother got her rest. I wasn’t sure what she was resting for; I was still on duty again when the sun came up.

I had a full day of client calls to make and despite the ability to work from home; I felt like being in the office. Dwelling on a past I couldn’t change wouldn’t do anything positive for my future. Thinking about those people allowed them into the present, which I had banned them from physically and needed to do mentally.

My work day would be quiet since my part time receptionist wasn’t in office today. Days like this made me miss having Frankie and Skye in the office with me. They’d been a sign of life, a sign of connection to other people I’d been missing. The girl that I got to replace her was okay, but I wasn’t going to just hurry and tell anyone my business. Although I was happy for Frankie and Liam getting together, not having them with me every day made me sad and was a reason I’d retreated into working from home more. But today I needed to get out.

I left my condo locking it up securely before heading down the elevator. The building was supposed to be luxury, but it didn’t feel like I always got what my money paid for. Monthlies were a thousand dollars a month and that included my fee for the pool, the gym, trash pickup and concierge. It also included my portion of the water bill and the twenty-four hours security that we had in the building. With over a hundred units, I knew that amount more than exceeded the value, but for a woman living alone, I wanted to do as little as I could outside the safety of my building. I got my food delivered via service and if I needed to grocery shop for snacks, the Natural Foods Store was literally steps away. I was paying for convenience and didn’t mind because it gave me peace of mind to know I could afford to.

I headed toward the cafe in the lobby before seeing someone else turn around from the closed doors.

“Again?” I scowled, not at the handsome man in front of me, but at the bullshit the owner of this place was pulling yet again.

The man shook his head in disgust while glancing back angrily over his shoulder. “Yep. Not even a note on the door or an email sent out this time. Management shouldn’t be allowed to advertise this as a benefit to living here if it’s hardly ever open.”

“Why the hell are they allowed to keep their lease? This place can’t be cheap and if they’re never here to make money how can they afford it?” I was calculating the time this was going to cost me in my morning.

I’d done enough deals with commercial real estate to know something this size with this location had to be at least ten thousand dollars a month. On the low end. South Park was an exclusive area and you had to pay the high ass rent just to say you had a business here. They couldn’t be pulling in half that with how infrequently they were open. I was convinced when they were open most of their items were from the grocery store next door with their label added on top. They were convenient but since I’d moved in; the owners had let things go. Having a place like this was meant for someone who actually cared about their residents. The current owner and management company weren’t those people.

“Probably some type of money laundering. Not a bad idea, but he needs to find someone who will front his business better.” The man, a neighbor I’d met at a welcome party at the pool one of the few nights I tried to be sociable, shrugged his shoulders as though money laundering was just a way of life.

I smiled but dipped my brows, trying to keep the curiosity from spilling out of my mouth. “You say that so flippantly.”

“Say what?”

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