“Arrogant prick,” I grumbled under my breath when I rushed towards the palace, far away from the man who would be my husband in a few weeks if I accept his marriage proposal. Even his stupid, divine smelling suit reminded me of his handsome half-smirk. As if he knew I wouldn’t reject him. Couldn’t reject him.
But deep down, I knew he was right. All Zain was doing was being honest with me, and I hated how bitter the truth was. I knew that my beautiful country, Maahnoor, was not in good hands when my father appointed my eldest brother, Sadiq, as the sultan. He had made it unbearable for women to work, building clubs and bars when there was a need to build solid roads and schools for girls.
Not to mention about my rejection towards all the proposals that no one but a sixty-four-year-old man wanted me. Him or Sultan of Azmia. Despite being thirty-three, Zain had rejected all the proposals from the princesses to rich daughters of sheikhs, royals and even commoners. He didn’t want to marry, so why would he propose to me after knowing me for barely a few days?
I would be stupid if I considered rejecting Zain’s proposal of marriage. Being his wife, I could at least have a better future for my family and possibly my country.
But that meant I wouldn’t keep the death promise of my mother. I won’t be able to wear the maang tikka, which Zain took care of when I had lost it, if I accepted his marriage proposal. I didn’t love him. I was attracted to him, I would be foolish not to accept that. He was a just, powerful ruler, far better than my father and brother, even outrunning the neighboring countries. He was a decent human being. He hadn’t touched me without my consent when we both had been drunk that night. Not to mention his looks. Princesses were ready to kneel on his dais if he looked at them. Sharp face, dark brows, full lips and his onyx, haunting eyes were enough to curl up beside him, ask him about his day, relieve his stress of being a sultan and cuddle him.
Not like I had dreamt about it.
Or that kiss.
Or that nigh—
I stumbled into someone. Warm liquid drenched the front of their suit. Oh shit. That looked expensive.
“I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Yes, you weren’t looking, but no need to worry about—oh, hello.”
I looked at the face of the man I had stumbled into.
“You are Khalid Al Latif. I adore Limerence and even have a small frame of it on my bedside!” I blurted like a fan girl, remembering how brilliant his paintings were.
“Thank you.” He smiled at me as he tried to pat away the auburn liquid from his shirt with a cloth. I noticed the faint pink marks of lipstick on either side of his neck and shirt. “I am honored that you like my art, but if it’s not too much, can I ask who dared to make a beautiful princess angry in my castle?”
Ah, so he noticed me cursing.
“You can ask the Sultan.”
He sighed, closing his eyes, and tried to offer me a sheepish smile. It was a wonder how similar both of them looked, but Khalid had more height and a muscular frame with gentle, kind eyes whereas Zain was tall with a lean muscular frame and cruel, obsidian eyes.
“If it helps, I deeply apologize on my brother’s behalf. He doesn’t know when to put a line between being a sultan and a decent human being,” Khalid said, and called a guard to escort me to my room. “I will talk to him and punch some sense into him. Princess.”
I bowed when he left, the guard leading me towards my room. How can two brothers be so different yet the same?
When the guard left, I shamelessly awed at the luxurious room. The king-size bed covered in golden satin with lace detailed fabric draping over the four-poster canopy bed. Even the pillow covers were etched with embroidery.
The closet was empty, with nothing but my bag of clothes. I removed my gown and sighed in relief, running my hand through my dark hair, brushing past my bare stomach. I wandered into the bath and discovered a whole new room of richness and earthy smelling oils.
After sinking myself into the warm bath, inhaling the sweet aroma of jasmine, I realized that this could be my life in a few weeks. I can have all these luxuries and baths every day.
The thought made me angry and sad. I wanted nothing to do with his riches. All I wanted to do was make Maahnoor a better country like it used to be and fulfill my mother’s last wish.
I slept wearing a thin nightgown, the silk caressing my soft skin. I had decided. I would find a way to live with Zain Al Latif. If he wanted to use me for my own title of princess, then I would do the same.
* * *
“You have such lovely thick hair, Princess. You should keep it loose for today’s event,” the maid announced, showing me the dresses and gowns that Zain had bought for me.
The maid had knocked at the door before dawn and I had opened it wearing a robe, yawning and blinking with confusion when she entered my room, two guards dropping the dresses on my bed and leaving us alone.
“What event?” I asked, trailing my hand over the different fabrics of the dresses.
“Your family is officially meeting with the Sultan’s and dining together to discuss your future matters,” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“My future matters?”
She giggled, “I have heard rumors from others that you and Sultan are to be engaged after some guards saw you kiss in the garden.”
My face turned red upon hearing her words.
“I would never kiss—” I wanted to finish the sentence, but it was a lie. I had kissed him. Repeatedly on New Year’s Eve.
“Ignore my words, Princess. Don’t pay them any heed. Those are just silly rumors. Let me get your bath ready and help you with—”
“There’s no need. I have been doing it for all my life,” I said. “Although, I have a small favor to ask you.”
“Anything for you, Princess.”