King of Durabia Page 9

  Ellena wiped away a tear after hearing these words from a man who had put his life in danger countless times to save his clients. “I know you think I’m being foolish.”

  “No, you’re too headstrong for that,” he replied. “What I think is that you’re blinded by the good parts—or the good wood—and don’t understand how deeply the bad parts can affect you. That’s all. I am happy that you have found love. But I want to check this man out; know more about his family.” Another rustle of papers on his end. “Give me his full name and I’d like his phone number too.”

  She lowered herself to the bed. “Dro, do not mess this up for me.”

  “That is not my plan,” he said with a weary sigh. “But I’d like to know how far he’s willing to go to make sure you’re protected.”

  “All right.”

  Dro took down the information. “El, if you don’t know anything else, know that I have your back, front, and sides.”

  “I know that.”

  “I would like to have Hiram—one of the Knights—place a Castle tattoo on your wrist and his. Ones that match mine.”

  “Oh, that’s really nice of you,” she said, relieved that he had found a way to accept the inevitable. Hiram was one of the young men who was being mentored by Dro and his fellow Kings.

  “I’ll bring him when I come.”

  Ellena’s heart did a leap of joy. “Wait, you’re coming for the wedding?”

  “Of course. Who else do you think should walk you down the aisle?”

  “Victor Alejandro Reyes, I absolutely adore you.”

  “Well, what’s not to adore?” he asked, chuckling before he disconnected the call.

  Dro Reyes walked back into The Castle headquarters mulling over the conversation with El that unsettled him a great deal. Realization dawned that he would have to get the men he trusted with his life involved.

  Fate had made them brothers. The efforts they had taken over some months to protect The Castle, each other, and the women they loved was what made them kings.

  His involvement with The Castle started when their mentor and founder of The Castle, Khalil Germaine, ended up on the business end of an assassination attempt. Grant, Alejandro, Shaz, Mariano, Vikkas, Jai, Daron, Kaleb, and Dwayne were snatched from their daily lives and successful businesses in order to right old wrongs and track down the men responsible for trying to kill Khalil.

  During the six months when they stepped into the fray, they went through a series of dangerous challenges that altered the path of their lives forever. Not to mention, it also brought on the ire and deadly intent of Castle members—dirty politicians, the Russian mafia, American crime lords, and businessmen with their own sordid agendas—who wielded major influence across the globe.

  However, those men were not prepared for the new Kings—also powerful men who brought intelligence, determination, and togetherness in their goal of bringing The Castle back into its original humanitarian purpose.

  They had weathered many a challenge, but all of them took place on American soil where they knew the boundaries. The Middle East was an entirely different beast.

  “Wheels up, brothers,” Dro said, clearing the entrance to the circular boardroom fitted with a range of electronic communications equipment. “Grab your wives or significant others and put a call in to the Knights.”

  Khalil’s olive complexion was slight darker because of his visit to India a few days ago. He was taller than the average man from that region, fit and still quite muscular for his age. He leveled a dark brown gaze over the rim of his wineglass. “Why?”

  “We’re going to Durabia.”

  “Whoa,” Shaz said, putting the sandwich he held back onto the plate. “What’s going on?”

  “El is getting married.”

  “Wow. Found herself a prince over there, huh?” Vikkas teased with a laugh, reflecting the spitting image of the olive-complexioned, dark-haired ruggedness of Khalil Germaine.

  “Actually, she did.”

  His smile disappeared and he shared a glance with his twin, Jai. The only difference between them was Jai’s silver shock of hair that was in the same place as Khalil’s. Jai had weathered a storm of both public and industry censure when a coma patient at his medical center wound up pregnant under mysterious circumstances.

  Shaz’s head whipped toward Dro, his waist-length locs shifting with the movement. “Seriously?”

  “So why does that mean we need to crash the royal wedding?” Jai asked, leaning back in the executive chair.

  “El doesn’t have family,” Dro explained. “I think maybe a niece and a nephew, or two sisters that she keeps in contact with but no one else.”

  Dro gave his brother Kings Ellena’s history. Shared how diligent she had been since he first started Vantage Point right after college. “I need us to be her family. She’s in the Middle East, and how they view women—especially Black women—can be dangerous for her.”

  “No more dangerous than it is here,” Jai said, and there was a shadow of sadness in his eyes. Probably reflecting on everything that his patient, Temple, had been through.

  Dro dropped into his designated seat. “I need the royal family to see that she has people who will ride for her. That if anyone thinks they can treat her any kind of way that isn’t right, that we will tear that mother—”

  Khalil’s right eyebrow went up.

  “Sorry Khalil.” He inhaled, composed himself for a few seconds. “That we will storm that palace and turn their world inside out.”

  “Are you just angry that you’re losing your right hand?” Vikkas asked, his tone holding a humorous note.

  Dro shook his head. “I’m disappointed that she didn’t give me time to vet him and his family first.”

  Grant steepled his fingers under his cleft chin. His chiseled face always wore a solemn expression that women considered “brooding” and made it their mission to make him smile. He did, but only with his brothers, family, and the woman he loved. “He’s right. There are a lot of great things about Durabia, but there’s a darkness there, just like any other country.”

  “The royal family is shielded from any wrongdoing.” Dro scanned the men at the table with steely eyes. “She could disappear and we wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing. I’m not angry about anything. I’m afraid of losing her altogether.”

  “I’ve been there twice. All I’ve seen is lavish malls, exotic restaurants, wonderful entertainment,” Vikkas offered. “That’s why so many people travel there to shop and play.”

  “And that’s the only part they advertise,” Daron said, returning his glass to the table. “I’ve been there as well. The place is under Sharia Law. El doesn’t know anything about that. At least here, there is some recourse when something is done wrong—not much, but enough.”

  “Women are seen as having half the value of men—even in their word when it comes to legal issues,” Grant said, finally lifting his eyes from the screen in front of him. “Their death by the hands of a man, or even being raped by one, won’t bring justice. Men are given a wide berth.”

  “Same as right here in America,” Vikkas, an international lawyer, said as Shaz, an immigration and family lawyer, gave a nod.

  Dro took that in, then added, “At least we know how to function within our laws, as unjust and slanted as they may be. She doesn’t have anything to protect her there.”

  Dwayne, an educator who had embraced and executed Khalil’s methods of teaching students and soon to be princes of The Castle, slid his tablet into a leather briefcase. “I need to schedule one of the Knights to keep tabs on things at the school. When do we leave?”

  “Tonight.” Dro nodded, a plan already formulating in his mind. “Tonight works for me.”

  “Brother, you’re not playing,” Kaleb said, a real estate magnate in Detroit, chuckling.

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “I would like to come as well.”

  All eyes shifted to Khalil.

  Dro was honored t
hat their mentor would involve himself in such a simple domestic issue. “Khalil, you don’t have to do that.”

  “But I must,” he insisted and his tone did not leave room for any argument.

  Dro peered at him, taking in the solemn set of his expression. “I don’t understand.”

  Khalil stood, moving around the table until he was closer to Dro. “Part of the reason my family was so willing to force me out was the unhealthy competition for wealth with the Khan family.”

  Vikkas perked up, and so did Jai, who asked, “You’re related to them?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “In what way?” Dwayne asked.

  “Sheikh Aayan of the House Maharaj is my uncle.”

  “Six degrees of separation, huh?” Grant said, over his glass of Hershey’s Porter beer.

  “Not so separate anymore,” Khalil countered. “Shall I prepare to join you?”

  “Of course,” Dro said as Khalil made his way to the doorway. “This should prove to be very interesting.”

  Khalil paused at the exit. “Trust me, you do not know the half of it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Kamran speaking.”

  Even with two words, the man’s voice was the kind that made people take notice. Dro shifted the phone against his ear. “I am Alejandro Reyes.”

  “Yes, Ellena said you wish to speak with me.”

  Dro scanned the dossier on the Khan family that was spread out on his desk. “What are your true intentions towards El?”

  “I am marrying her because she is an amazing woman.”

  “But you didn’t know her from Eve’s cat over a week ago.”

  “Who is Eve?”

  Dro exhaled, trying not to slap a hand to his forehead. The background noise on Kamran’s end didn’t hide the innocence in that question.

  “Just joking,” Kamran said with a throaty chuckle. “And you are correct, I did not. But it is God’s will that we are together. She is my gift from God, not the other way around.”

  Dro spun to an image of Sheikh Aayan Khan on the pages of a tabloid. “I’ve done a little research on your family.”

  “And you will find that my family is one of the richest in the world. We have been plagued by our share of drama, more than others. My father has six wives. Well, soon to be five since one wife is now seeking asylum and a forced marriage protection in England. She does not wish her daughters to be married to any of the Nadaum princes.”

  “I will find all of that out,” Dro countered, flipping to yet another page detailing where a Durabian princess had run away from home. “No worries.”

  “Alejandro, we both want what is best for Ellena, yes?”

  “Facts.”

  “My best is to show her the love and respect that she deserves,” he said, moving to a quieter area. “Do you know she defied the Sheikh and nearly tossed me back because she felt it was unfair that she was forced on me as a wife instead of it being my choice.”

  Dro smiled. “That sounds a lot like El.”

  “That is the moment I fell in love with her,” he confessed. “No one has ever stood up for me the way she has. She is filled with compassion, determination, courage.”

  “That is El, too,” Dro conceded.

  “Those nine days that I took to court her, it was about getting to know her. But in doing so, I learned more about myself. She made me question my life and my faith. Made me see things I have accepted as normal that I have done nothing to change. Marriage to her is more than a gift, it is a blessing for my life. I could not have prayed for a better woman.” The man’s voice sounded sincere. “I will not be able to do as much as I would like here in Durabia to take on the elements that are wrong, but we will find a way to try. Now what is your true concern?”

  “That she will be harmed by things that are out of her control because the culture is not part of her life.”

  “We have already determined that,” he countered. “And she changed the Sheikh’s mind with a plan to remain here. But we will reside in the Free Zone, not the palace.”

  Way to go, El! “Well, that puts a different spin on things. So, she will not be under the shadow of Sharia Law?”

  “No, only with a weekly visit for dinner at the palace and I think she will manage quite well. I believe my father is smitten with her himself. I heard him say to my brother that she would have made an excellent seventh wife.”

  “That makes me feel better, I think.” Seventh wife?

  “I am glad to hear it.” Dro typed a message to Shaz, Jai, and Vikkas on his cell phone. “And you know what else will make me feel better?”

  “Ask, and I will do my best.”

  “But you cannot mention a word of it to Ellena.”

  “I will not keep secrets from my wife.”

  Dro nodded, pleased by that assertion. “I am glad to hear it, but once you listen to what I’m asking, I think you will agree to this one.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Who gives this woman—”

  “We do,” blasted from every corner of the palace ballroom. A group of men and women seemed to appear out of nowhere, gliding toward where Ellena stood. The Durabian guests parted to give them clear access across the patterned marble floor. The room had been transformed into a wonderland of lilac, purple, creams, and golds—flowers galore.

  Sheikh Aayan craned his neck around Kamran so he could see who had spoken. “And who are you?”

  Murmurs began, then climbed in a rousing crescendo around the palace, but came to a halt when the first man in line stepped forward and said, “Victor Alejandro Reyes. King of Hyde Park.”

  “Shastra Bostwick, King of Evanston,” a tall loc-wearing man said before another man with a light complexion came abreast of him. “Daron Kincaid, King of Morgan Park,” he said.

  “Kaleb Valentine, King of South Shore,” was spoken by a man with tight curls and brown skin, followed by, “Grant Khambrel, King of Lincoln Park.” This one had dark, brooding eyes which was a stark contrast to the man standing next to him, who almost seemed to be of East Indian descent. “Dwayne Harper, King of Lawndale,” and then another with ivory skin and piercing dark eyes, said, “Mariano Francesco DeLuca.”

  The last two standing on the front line looked as though they could be direct members of Kamran’s family.

  “Jaidev Maharaj Germaine, of the House of Maharaj seated in the United States of America and empire of India, King of Devon.”

  Sheikh Aayan blanched, seemingly disturbed by this sudden turn of events.

  “Vikkas Maharaj Germaine of the House of Maharaj seated in the United States of America and empire of India, King of Wilmette.”

  The introductions didn’t end there as Kings led into “Milan Germaine of the House of Maharaj seated in the United States of America and empire of India, Queen of Wilmette.”

  “Cameron Stone, Queen of Morgan Park.”

  “Temple Germaine of the House of Maharaj seated in the United States of America and empire of India, Queen of Devon.”

  “Camilla Bostwick, Queen of Evanston by way of the Parish of St. Catherine, Jamaica, West Indies.”

  All followed by the rest of the Queens, then, “Hiram Fosten, Knight of Grand Crossing,” before the remaining eight Knights and their significant others, the princes and princesses all addressed the court.

  The Kings were distinguished in long white tunics—the same dishdashas as the men in Kamran’s family, but the American Kings had an embroidered crown crest on the upper right part of their chest. Each wore golden crowns that were as imposing as the men themselves. The Knights were formidable in black, the princes decked in red, with all queens, ladies, princesses robed in magnificent garments in colors that complimented the men. The image they presented was nothing short of spectacular. Kamran was duly impressed and actually felt a little chuffed that his father had been thrown off his square.

  Then one man of regal bearing, with silky salt-and-pepper hair, an expertly trimmed goatee, draped in full East India
n garb, said, “I am Khalil Germaine, formerly Masood Ali Khan Maharaj of the East Indian Maharaj family line from Bihar, Mauryans, Delhi Sultanate and Mughal Empires. And we lay claim to Ellena Kiley as a daughter, sister, each in kind. Her dowry—bride price—one million from each king, and nine million from the House of Maharaj America.”

  Sheikh Aayan nearly fell backward onto the throne. As well he should. Ellena’s dowry was the most that any of the princesses that were married to his brothers had brought to the table. Substantially more. “I thought she was a commoner,” he said, his voice carrying throughout the room, but he glared at Kamran as though accusing him of keeping this vital information to himself.

  “No more common than anyone here,” Khalil responded with a smile. “The difference is bloodline, family, and money—of which she has plenty.”

  He let that comment walk around the room for a moment and it caused all others to resume their curiosity-filled conversations.

  Kamran locked gazes with Alejandro and gave him a head nod. All the Kings answered with an approving nod of their own—in unison. Kamran leaned over to Ellena and asked, “Is this where the big guy comes in and sings she’s your queen to be?”

  “I’m going to put you over my knee,” she whispered through her teeth, trying to hold back laughter.

  “Go to Khalil,” Kamran said, smiling. “He will walk you back to my side as is the custom for a father offering his daughter.”

  “Wait, is that Dolly and Damaris,” she asked, as her heart swelled with joy. “The Kings, the Knights, the Queens, my classmates. You knew?”

  “I knew they would come,” he replied. “I did not know this.” His gaze scanned her family. “But take a gander at my brother’s faces.”

  Shock, panic, and major concern were among the range of expressions.

  “Priceless.”

  “You walk back to me. And you hold your head high, do you hear me? Your family has put everyone here on notice—including me—that you’re not to be trifled with. That you are not a motherless or fatherless child. That there are those who will stand for you when you cannot stand for yourself. And more importantly”—his voice deepened—“anyone who comes for you will lose their lives. Message received. Hold your head up, my queen.”