Pride and Consequence (21 page)

Malik caught her fingers and kissed them gently. When he let go of her hand, she grasped the waistband of his jeans and tugged.

“Zakira…”

“Malik, please…”

Though he wanted the night to last as long as possible, overwhelming desire wouldn't allow him to hold out. He pushed himself off the bed and unbuckled his belt in order to unfasten his jeans.

Zakira watched, loving the way the jeans and boxers fell away to reveal his lean waist, tight buttocks and impressive masculinity. She pushed herself up and kneeled at the edge of the bed.

Malik threaded his fingers through her thick hair and pulled her head back for a deep kiss. Moaning, Zakira slid her arms around his waist, her long nails raking his wide back. The next moment, he was pushing her to the bed and following her down.

They both moaned when their naked bodies touched for the first time in so long. Malik's hands were everywhere, his lips favoring Zakira's body with thousands of tiny, wet kisses. Her embrace was tight. She never wanted him to stop.

Malik was aroused to such a fevered state, it almost drove him mad. His large hands grasped Zakira's thighs and held them apart as he plunged his throbbing maleness deep within her.

A wild cry flew from Zakira's throat when she felt the rigid length stroking her repeatedly, unrelentingly. The fact that Malik was actually there, making love to her, brought tears to her eyes.

Malik's head was buried in the soft crook of her neck. The satisfied grin on his face reflected the happiness surging through him. None of the thousands of fantasies he'd had about Zakira came close to the true feel of her at that very moment.

The red numbers on the bedside clock read 3:00 a.m. when Malik awoke. The lazy smile on his handsome face faded when he discovered Zakira wasn't next to him. Whipping back the bed covers, he left the room to look for her.

Downstairs, he found her sitting on a cushiony chair that faced the huge bay windows in the living room. She was staring solemnly at the fantastic view of the New York City skyline.

Malik leaned against the doorjamb and watched his wife for a moment. He wasn't completely clueless and he could only imagine how unbearable the situation had been for her. Discovering her supposedly dying husband was alive and well, having a vicious fight with him and making love with him all in the same night…she must be frustrated beyond words. Malik knew he had made a terrible decision, handling his illness the way he had, but that was going to be corrected. He couldn't allow anything to stop him.

Zakira's slender fingers curled into the chair when she felt Malik's lips brush her neck. She braced herself against the rush of sensation pulsing through her body.

Malik didn't seem to notice and continued bathing the satiny smooth column of her neck with his kisses. He was instantly aroused and needed to feel Zakira beneath him. When she pulled away and moved to the sofa, he frowned. “What's wrong?”

It was Zakira's turn to frown. “Surely you didn't just ask me that?”

Malik shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood there totally confident, though he wore not a stitch of clothing. “I don't get it. We just finished having some damn good sex and the last thing I'd expect is for you to pull away from me.”

“So you expect things to be the same, just like that?” she challenged, her brown eyes wide and searching.

“Why can't it be?” Malik countered, walking closer to her. “Unless you're seeing somebody else?” He stopped before her.

Zakira couldn't stop her eyes from dropping past Malik's waist. She caught herself staring and shook her head. “There's no one serious.”

Malik shrugged, even though a knowing smirk touched his mouth.

“That's only because I've been so concerned with the business. Believe me, I had no qualms about moving on with my life in every way,” she assured him, hoping she sounded convincing.

Malik leaned over her on the sofa. “Sure you were,” he sarcastically replied, pushing her back against the cushions. His strong, athletic form covered hers as he nibbled on the sensitive skin below her earlobe. “Well, you won't need to be so concerned with business now that I'm back,” he murmured.

Zakira's brown eyes snapped to his face. She pushed Malik away with a strength she didn't know she had and get up from the sofa. She turned in the direction of the stairway. Before leaving, she delivered a parting shot. “You've proven how little you cared for me and, as for the business, you proved how little you cared for it when you dumped it in my lap. I'll be damned if I just hand it over to you now.”

Malik reclined on the sofa and watched Zakira switch upstairs. His dark eyes appraised her and had to admit how tough his wife had become. He definitely had his work cut out for him.

Zakira left for the restaurant early the next morning. There was no need for her to be there at such an hour, but she couldn't be around Malik a moment longer. Even after all the drama the night before and everything preceeding that, she couldn't deny that she desperately wanted him. If she stayed home any longer, she had no doubt they would make love again.

“No!” she blurted, bracing her elbows on the desk as she held her head in her hands. “No, I'm ready to move on with my life and leave him behind,” she vowed, but realized it was far from true.

The annoying buzz of the phone intruded on her thoughts. She uttered a short prayer that it not be Malik on the other end of the line.

“Zakira Badu,” she curtly answered.

“Zakira, this is Mallory Harper. Food editor for
The Times.
”

Zakira blinked and leaned back in her chair. “Yes? Yes, Ms. Harper. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I wanted to discuss coming in to do a write-up for my column. I'd like to do a review of Badu's before the end of the month.”

Zakira was already scanning her calendar. “When did you want to do this?”

“Well, suppose I leave that up to you.” Mallory said, her voice softening. “After what happened at the opening, I wasn't sure what your plans were.”

“The opening?” Zakira replied, a small frown beginning to form.

“I was there last night. You seemed pretty preoccupied, but I guess that's putting it mildly.”

“Very mildly,” Zakira sighed, choosing not to skirt the issue. “My husband would pick last night to decide to surprise me.”

“I'd heard he has cancer.”

Zakira managed a nod, her eyes closing. “I'm happy to say he's recovered.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news! I can see why he wanted to surprise you.”

“Yes,” Zakira replied, her tone revealing nothing.

Mallory cleared her throat. “So, what would be a good time for me to come in to interview you?”

Zakira suggested a few dates, but assured Mallory that any time was fine for the review.

After the call, Zakira buried her face in her hands and prayed she would survive. As if on cue, the office door flew open and Malik stormed into the room.

“You could've told me you were leaving, Zaki. I searched all over that house for you.”

Zakira was instantly on the defensive. “I hope you don't expect me to answer to you? Inform you of all my comings and goings? I didn't do that before you left and I'm not about to start now.”

Malik massaged the back of his neck. “Didn't you think I'd want to be here, too?”

“Well, you're here now, aren't you?”

“Zaki, we won't get anywhere like this.”

Zakira stood and pounded her fist to the desk. “Get anywhere? Where are we going, Malik? You seem to love traveling on your own.”

Malik smiled, realizing that now he even relished their arguments. He strolled a bit closer to the desk. “No matter how much you hate to admit it, this place is mine too. I want to know what's going on.”

Zakira stepped from behind the desk. “What's going on? What's going on is that since you've been gone, I have expanded this business. While it's too soon to boast my success, I feel good about it. What's going on is that you have done this despicable thing and now you come back expecting everything to be the same.”

“Zaki—”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Badu?”

Zakira and Malik looked to the door of the office to see the restaurant manager.

“I'm sorry, I heard voices and—”

“That's all right,” Zakira assured the tall, stout, honey-complexioned young man. “Justin Flowers, Malik Badu. Malik, Justin is the restaurant's manager.”

Malik offered his hand. “Good to meet you, man.”

Jason quickly obliged. “Same here, Mr. Badu. You got everybody around this place talking already.”

“I can imagine,” Malik acknowledged with a dimpled grin.

“Mrs. Badu, should I tell the rest of the staff to expect introductions today?”

“Yes, Justin, that sounds good. We'll get started as soon as we finish up in here.”

“Great,” Justin said, reaching over to shake hands with Malik again. “It was a pleasure.”

Malik smiled before turning back to Zakira. He was impressed by how quickly she switched into business mode.

Zakira was eager to leave their conversation behind and introducing her husband to their staff seemed to be a good way of doing that. That is, until Malik began to charm everyone. When they arrived in the kitchen, he took an even greater interest. Malik was so involved with the chefs that Zakira was able to slip away without him noticing.

Later, Malik returned to the office. He couldn't deny how impressed he was with everything. And he couldn't believe how much Zakira had accomplished in such a short time.

“Well, yes considering we just opened our doors, I feel very flattered that the directors are interested in dining here. I'll connect you with our manager and he'll assist you with the reservations. We'll see you soon.” Zakira said, then set the receiver down and took a seat on the edge of her desk.

Malik pushed himself from against the doorjamb where he had been watching. The ease with which she handled the caller raised his eyebrows and aroused a few other emotions. This was a new facet of her character, and it was a part of her that he wanted to know.

“That sounded important,” he noted, strolling into the office with his hands hidden in the deep pockets of his saggy jeans.

Zakira smiled and offered a little shrug. “It was very important. It seems the directors from the housing committee of this district want to have dinner here the night after Thanksgiving.”

Malik uttered a soft whistle. “Damn, our name has already reached the city officials? I'd like the chance to meet them.”

Zakira's easy expression faded. “Well, I hope so, since you were the first person Debbie mentioned when she called. It seems your unexpected appearance last night has made you a hot commodity.” She smoothed the short flaring cream skirt beneath her as she took a seat behind the desk. “Makes it very easy for you to resume control of the business.”

“That's not why I did this, Zaki,” Malik said, the heavy dreads brushing his cheeks when he shook his head. “The only thing on my mind was you. Us.”

Zakira patted the thick braid that snaked around her head. “That's not the impression I got this morning. You seemed very eager to have me take a backseat.”

Malik grinned in spite of himself. “Let's say I was reacting to what you said…about moving on with your life.”

“Now I get it,” Zakira whispered, her smoky brown eyes narrowing slightly. “You want to have your cake and eat it, too. First, you want a divorce so I can move on. Now, you're upset because I'm trying to do it.”

“Dammit, Zaki, how many times do I have to tell you, I did that because I didn't know if I was gonna live or die? I didn't want you hanging on.”

“You know what, Malik? You're so busy trying to get me to understand why you did this that you can't understand what it did to me. It's like you expect me to bow down and be grateful you're here, everything else be damned.”

Malik's features were twisted into a fierce frown. “Does that mean you want things the way they were before I came back?”

“Ugggggh!” Zakira raged, her hands curling into tiny fists. “You were right when you said we're not going to get anywhere like this, so let's just end this conversation right now.”

“That's the best thing I've heard today,” Malik snapped before he stormed out of the office.

“Mr. Badu?”

Malik was on his way out of the restaurant after the argument with Zakira. When he heard his name, he stopped and turned toward the kitchen. “Didn't I tell y'all to call me Malik?” he teased, recognizing one of the chefs he's met earlier that day.

“Are you leaving?” Kenneth Diamond asked.

Malik massaged his jaw and glanced toward the stairway. “Yeah, I think I'm done here for the day.”