Page 17 of Dirty Wild Sultan

I certainly couldn’t have picked a better partner to have sex with, even if I wanted.

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“Areyou sure they do not have any weapons with them?” Zayed, my brother’s close friend and the Sheikh of Azmia, asked Rahim in a weary tone.

It had been a week since I’d learned that themaang tikkabelonged to Princess Nasrin and I may have slept with her. Without protection.

I had invited Hamid Elbaz, her father, and the Princess herself to the palace for a meeting. A meeting was not the term my advisor, Rahim, would use. He made sure it seemed more like a talk for marriage between me and Nasrin. I had scoffed at that idea. I could never marry someone from Maahnoor, let alone their princess. The reason was my annoyance towards Hamid Elbaz and the current Sultan of Maahnoor, his eldest son, who was accused of sexual harassment towards a young man.

Also, there was that little hatred brimming between our two countries. I didn’t know the details of what happened between my father and her father, but it was enough to make me aware that if I married Nasrin, people would talk. Wondering why I bothered to marry a princess from Maahnoor when I was getting marriage proposals from far better countries.

I couldn’t marry her. As the Sultan of Azmia, I had to think of the future of my country.

That was also the reason I couldn’t allow Princess Nasrin to turn that night into a scandal. Tell the public that Zain Al Latif was a clumsy drunk in bed and forgot to use protection. It would embarrass me and my entire family.

No, I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen.

“Zayed, stand down,” I said, straightening my suit. The golden embroidery on the lapels shimmered under the lights of the chandelier, in contrast against the dark onyx color of the suit. “It’s just me and the Princess talking. Nothing else. Rahim said he would take care of her father or I will propose a walk in the gardens.”

“Secure more guards in the garden—” Zayed ordered the guard present in my room as I scowled at my reflection.

“You’re overthinking this,” I said, sliding my family ring, a silver band around a dark cobalt diamond, on my right ring finger. I checked if the dagger was in place around my hip, sheathed and well hidden under the suit. It was for extra protection, even though I wished I wouldn’t need to use it.

“They’re here, Sultan,” Rahim knocked on the open door of my room, tilting his head.

Taking a deep breath, I followed my advisor to the mahogany doors of a private library. The guards stationed outside opened the doors for us and I prowled inside. My stance relaxed even though my muscles were tight with tension.

My mouth turned dry when my eyes landed on the Princess. Her thick dark hair tumbled over her sun-kissed arms, her sharp face staring in my direction, her honeyed eyes pinned on me. They looked amused. Her red lips—the ones that I had kissed—curling at the corner. Despite that, I found Nasrin enchanting. A true beauty. Dressed in a shimmering golden gown.

The woman in gold was not a dream. She was real. I had kissed her.

Curse me. I wanted to kiss her again. Wipe that smug look off her face and pin her across the plush settee she sat on and kiss her. Mark her like some wild animal.

Just for a few moments, I wished our countries were not enemies so that I could propose marriage to her.

I am going insane.

Controlling my hormones, I smiled at her, ignoring her father, who sat on the armchair, frowning at me for not addressing him while Rahim gave our introductions.

“Sultan Zain, it’s an honor to meet you,” Hamid Elbaz lied, bowing his head when I stepped closer to the table covered in sweets for our guests. When Nasrin didn’t avert her eyes from me to introduce herself, her father hissed her name.

I didn’t miss the little note of disgust in his voice when he addressed her so brazenly in front of me. Interesting, a father who had a strong dislike towards his daughter. I could see why Salman Al Latif was a good friend with him before their rivalry.

Nasrin stood up, her dress swishing with each move when she bowed. “Honor to meet you, Sultan Zain,” she said in her husky, smooth voice, as if she was caressing my cheek with her hand.

I stepped closer, the hint of fresh jasmine and a heady feminine scent wafting in my nose when I bowed, taking her palm in mine and gently brushing my lips over her knuckles.

“Pleasure is mine, Princess Nasrin,” I whispered, rolling out her name on my tongue. Despite my deep-rooted values, I wanted to whisper her name, hear her gasping against mine when my fingers were deep inside her—

We both blinked when her father cleared his throat, displeasure written all over his face. I pulled away, the loss of her warm touch burning my palm as I slid my hand in my pocket. My fingers brushing over the cool jewelry.

There was so much tension hovering between us, that I was both afraid and excited to give us both some privacy. And ask her whether we used protection.

I asked her, “Would you like to take a walk with me in the gardens?”

“I don’t think she should—”

I glared at Hamid Elbaz. “I asked Princess Nasrin. Not you.”

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