Part 3 (2/2)

Around here, he was the top man in town, and so it was very strange and rather hilarious to see her husband talked down to by somebody else, especially someone who was staying in Jacob's own home. However, Jacob, who was always gracious, took to it very well. It just showed what capable hands she was in, Almasi reminded herself.

”Yes,” said Mr. Arko k.u.mi. ”That will be very satisfactory.” And so, with Jacob leading the way, the party made their way to the patio. A large spread of all kinds of different foods awaited them there: samosas, spring rolls, spanakopita, little cheese with olives, caviar, deviled eggs, dips and breads and vegetables, and a whole other a.s.sortment of various kinds of delicacies were served on beautiful china.

Almasi made a mental note to praise the cook later; he had really outdone himself. Maybe she would even suggest that Jacob give him a raise. The selection was breathtaking.

”We have a few different wines available,” said Jacob, addressing Mr. Arko k.u.mi again. ”Would you prefer white or red?”

”White,” said Mr. Arko k.u.mi. He did not seem unhappy, but he was terse, and did not use more words than he needed to.

Jacob seemed unfazed. ”And you, sir?” He was addressing Mr. Kofi k.u.mi now.

”White as well, please,” said Mr. Kofi k.u.mi politely, and Almasi smiled. At least this one had manners, unlike his stuck-up brother.

They talked business over this afternoon feast. Almasi quickly became bored, as Mr. Arko k.u.mi clearly had no time for her. The only question he asked her was whether or not she'd had any children. She replied that she had not. ”Soon,” he said in response. Almasi did not know what to make of that answer. Was it a suggestion, or a prediction? Either way, he said nothing more to her, and she had to amuse herself by imagining all of the various things she could be doing if she weren't stuck outside with these boring people and their boring boys' club.

Eventually, Almasi excused herself from the patio, saying she had to attend to something and that she would be right back. She snuck up the stairs to her lounge and retrieved her diary. After pulling the necklace with the silver key out from under her dress, she quickly unlocked it, and then grabbed a pen from her desk and began to write.

She was rage scrawling, talking about how bored she was and how irritating men and their stupid exclusive deals were and making that note to reward the chef and writing about Mr. Arko k.u.mi and his annoying, lifeless face and, and- Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Somehow, in her rush of words, Almasi had broken her pen, and now the ink was bleeding across her hands and onto the lap of her dress. She stood up quickly, cursing quietly to herself. She couldn't go back out like this. And to get to her room from the lounge would mean walking across the main hall and going up the stairs. Praying that n.o.body would see her and that her absence had gone unnoticed, Almasi walked out into the hall and turned the corner fast and- -and b.u.mped directly into Mr. Kofi k.u.mi.

Almasi swore loudly and then looked up at the man in front of her. He was tall. Not as tall as his brother, but taller than Jacob, and most definitely taller than Almasi. She took a deep breath. ”H-hi,” she began. This was not going well. She breathed in again. ”Mr. k.u.mi.”

The man smiled down at her. ”Please, Mrs. Adamson,” he said. ”Call me Kofi.”

She didn't bother to correct him by saying that technically she had kept her maiden name and was therefore Mrs. Quinn.

”If you would just excuse me-” she began, but just then he noticed her ink stains and interrupted her.

”Ah, sneaking off to go writing, are you?” Mr. Kofi k.u.mi asked. ”Letters, perhaps? A grocery list? A secret diary?” He was teasing her now, but he had also hit a little too close to home. She frowned. ”You might not want to make it so obvious,” he continued. ”My brother does not approve of impoliteness.”

That was rich, to be saying this of the man who had not even bothered to greet her properly. ”I suggest you clean that up. I can escort you, if you would like.” His smile was charming, and his dark brown eyes danced playfully, with laugh lines crinkling around the sides.

”No thank you, sir,” she said. ”I will be back out in a few minutes. Just enjoy your wine and food.” As she turned to go up to the washroom, she paused. ”Oh, and Mr. k.u.mi?”

He looked back at her ”Yes?”

”Please don't tell them you saw me like this.”

”I will not. I am a man of great discretion.” He smiled at her. ”And it is Kofi, Mrs. Adamson.”

She smiled back at him in relief. ”Thank you, Kofi. And call me Almasi.”

”It is no trouble at all, Almasi.” And with that, Mr. Kofi k.u.mi was gone.

It only took Almasi a few minutes to scrub her hands clean, and a few more to pick out a dress that looked similar enough to the first one that it wouldn't draw too much attention. She left a quick note for the maid, Beatrice, writing in pencil so as not to risk another ink accident. The she slipped downstairs, and fortunately didn't b.u.mp into anyone else on her way back to the patio.

The others barely seemed to notice when she came back and sat down in her chair. Jacob was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Arko k.u.mi about the pricing of diamonds versus rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, and as she sat down, Mr. Kofi k.u.mi made eye contact with her and winked. Her secret was safe with him, she was certain. So Almasi breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of her wine, tuning out the conversation and listening to the sound of the light breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. It will all be over soon, she thought. Soon.

The next morning was the first shop tour of the visit. The idea was that Mr. Arko k.u.mi and his brother would visit all of the nearby shops that Jacob owned to get a sense of the spirit of the company. Almasi would come along to show good form. Although she was clearly of no interest to Mr. Arko k.u.mi, Jeremy had insisted that this was the best way to incorporate a sense of family values and loyalty to tradition.

Jacob had agreed, and, well, Almasi couldn't really argue. She was being paid for this, she kept reminding herself. Pretty soon, that million dollars would be hers. As for her relations.h.i.+p with Jacob... well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it. If all he needed her for was her presence, and some convenient s.e.x for a month, she could take it. She refused to admit to herself how much that could break her heart. Now was not the time for her to have a woman's heart. This was business, not pleasure.

The morning of the first shop tour, Almasi was in such a rush that she didn't even have time to think about writing in her diary, which she had left on the table of her lounge. Instead, her mind was focused on selecting her ”shop viewing dress,” and getting into the shoes, the jewelry, putting on the makeup and doing her own hair-Yifeng still had yet to master how to tame natural black woman curls the way Almasi could-and then of course, getting into the limo with everybody else.

Once they were on their way, all the men did was talk of business. Although Almasi knew plenty about commerce -- she had a university degree in it, after all,-she knew that Mr. Arko k.u.mi would not value her input the way Jacob did, so she stayed silent and looked out the window. Jacob was too transfixed with his business deal to pay her any attention, but Mr. Kofi k.u.mi made eye contact with her a couple of times, showing sympathetic expressions and occasionally rolling his eyes when his brother wasn't looking.

While Mr. Arko k.u.mi embodied the spirit of business, with his brusque, to-the-point att.i.tude, his brother Kofi was the very spirit of pleasure. Oh, he sat obediently through the meetings, and showed feigned interest at the jewelry shops, but it was evident that all he really wanted was to get this over with and have some fun.

Almasi was not so sure that she approved of his lackadaisical, even hedonistic att.i.tude, but her frustration with the situation was enough that she could certainly sympathize with his boredom. At least he had the chance to be included in the conversation, though, which was far more than could be said for Almasi.

While Jacob paid her due attention every night, and seemed thrilled to be around her and to kiss her and love her, he also knew that he could not risk upsetting his client by letting it seem like his wife was involved in his official company business. After a few days of the Ghanaian guests' visit, Almasi found that she was growing tired of this arrangement. She kept pus.h.i.+ng through, though, for the sake of the money, and also... also, maybe a little bit for Jacob's sake.

He had no time to see that her fondness had grown into love, so she was becoming a little less careful now. If he was completely consumed by thoughts about the diamond deal, perhaps he wouldn't notice the way she whispered ”I love you” to him when she was sure he was asleep, and perhaps he wouldn't notice the way her smile grew soft and sappy whenever he gave her a bit of his time in his busy, busy day.

The one person who did give Almasi time from his day was Mr. Kofi k.u.mi. Ever bored with his brother's financial plans, Mr. Kofi k.u.mi had taken to talking to Jacob's young wife whenever he had the chance. Between meals, in the limo, and if they saw each other in the hallway by chance. Almasi was beginning to find that he always turned up in the same hallway as her as if by chance in a way that really seemed like it was planned. A week into his and his brother's stay at the Adamson mansion, Almasi confronted him about it after he mysteriously turned up in the hall near her bathroom as she was walking to the master bedroom in a big fluffy bathrobe and towel from her shower. He gave her quite a fright when he appeared, so much so that she nearly dropped her towel.

”Mr.Kofi!” she exclaimed. What in G.o.d's name was he doing here?

”Ah, Almasi,” he said, his eyes gleaming as he looked her up and down. ”Caught you at a bad time, perhaps?”

Almasi was in no mood for Mr. Kofi k.u.mi's games. ”Clearly,” she said, gesturing to her bathrobe. ”Now, if you will just excuse me, I'm-”

”Wait one moment, Almasi.” Mr. Kofi k.u.mi was leaning in the doorway now, leering at her. ”I have a proposal for you.”

”A proposal?” What was on earth was this man talking about? Evidently, he was deranged, or else he would not have even thought about stepping into Almasi and Jacob's private hallway.

”Well... more like a proposition.” He smiled at her again. ”You see, I have noticed a certain... lack in your interest in your husband's affairs since the beginning of our visit here at Adamson Mansion.”

”What are you talking about? You know that I'm invested in this diamond deal just as much as Jacob is.” Even more than he was; she was the one whose life had been completely turned upside down by this scheme.

”Yes, but you know that my brother has no interest in women being in his workforce. He says a lady's place is in the kitchen and the bedroom, not in the study.” His tone was mocking now, and Almasi took the bait without thinking.

”Listen, if you think for one second that Jacob believes-” she began angrily.

”Oh, Almasi, no. I know that your dear Mr. Adamson treasures intellect equally in both of the genders,” interrupted Kofi k.u.mi. ”It's obvious that he is simply playing along with old fas.h.i.+oned misogynistic views for my brother's benefit. I am sure that he normally loves, cherishes, and values you very, very much. Why else would such a rich and prosperous man have taken you for his wife?”

This last sentence sounded somewhat doubting, a little insincere. Almasi was suddenly reminded of how, at the end of the day, this really was just a p.a.w.n in this business game to Jacob, too. She frowned. She could tell that he was playing her, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was getting at. ”So, what's your point?”

”I just think that a woman such as you, a woman so brilliant, so beautiful,” he reached out to touch her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ”Well... she deserves attention. More attention than you are receiving from your husband.”

Almasi froze. He could not be serious. Was he joking? This man, coming to her in her and her husband's own private hallway, and waiting until she was vulnerable so he could pounce on her?

”No. Absolutely not. I would never betray my ” She moved her face away from his hand and took a step back. ”I would never betray my husband like that. Ever.”

Mr. Kofi k.u.mi shrugged and stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of faux innocence. ”I am sure that you'd like to think that,” he said. ”So I'll give you some time, and you can mull the idea over.” He seemed to have another thought. ”Think about it,” he added. ”Rich men take mistresses all the time.

Don't look at me with that face, you know it to be true. So, Ms. Gender Equality, why can you not take a lover of your own for a short while? One who will pay attention to you?” He leaned in closer. ”One who will give you all of the pleasure that your husband denies you when he sits all day negotiating diamond trades?”

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