Page 20 of Dirty Wild Sultan

Zain Al Latif stepped closer, his warm breath caressing my cheek as he said, “Because, Princess Nasrin, I am asking you to marry me.”

10

Zain

“Because, Princess Nasrin, I am asking you to marry me,” I said, my voice echoing in the dark night.

Her lush lips parted when she gaped at me. Even shocked, she was a stunning beauty. I hadn’t been able to form any coherent words when I had seen her sitting in the library, her thick hair flowing down her waist, making me want to run my hand through it. Hold it as I whispered filthy things in her ear. What I would do to her if we were alone.

Her dark eyes glared at me through the surrounding kohl, illuminating her brown orbs. “Are you asking or ordering, Sultan?” She asked, her tone mocking when she tried so hard not to reject me.

I adored it.

The way she talked back to me, wanting to reject my proposal with defiance in her eyes. Maybe I was foolish, but I wanted to marry her, see the fire in her eyes every time I wake up next to her.

“I am asking, Princess Nasrin.” I smiled at her, “For now.”

Her chest heaved when she took a step closer to me, my eyes dropping low at the exposed cleavage before landing on her beautiful, angry face. “Are you threatening me, Zain? Blackmailing the Princess of Maahnoor to get married?”

I blinked innocently at her. “I have done nothing of that sort, Princess, but I would if you do not accept my proposal.”

“Truly romantic. I am swooning,” Nasrin said with a smile dripping with venom.

“I wish I could have asked you in better circumstances, but time is of the essence.”

“No, it’s certainly not. And I am rejecting your sad excuse of a proposal,” she snapped, ready to leave with my suit still draped around her shoulders.

I wanted to hold her arm, but I didn’t want to get kicked in the crotch so I said, “It is either me or that sad excuse of a sheikh, Nasrin.”

She stopped in her tracks, her golden gown shimmering in the moonlight.

Knowing I had her, I continued, “Remind me, Princess, how old is he again? Fifty-four, was it? No, no, I think it was sixty-four—”

“Stop,” she hissed, the guards giving her an incredulous look when she marched in front of me. Anger rolled off of her in waves. “How do you know about that?”

“That you are not getting any suitors because of that pretty tongue of yours, Princess Nasrin?” I drawled.

Her eyes turned feral.

“I like to know about people with whom I share my bed, and the rumors of Princess Nasrin denying every proposal that comes her way are pretty famous. I know for a fact that you have denied princes and made them so angry after your rejection that only an old sheikh with two wives wants to marry you.” I raked my eyes over her slim build, “And that too for your youth.”

She seethed. “What’s your point, Sultan? You don’t want to cry in your bed after getting rejected by me?”

“Oh, you won’t reject me, Nasrin,” I said, leaning closer. “Because youwillbe my wife.”

“T-that is not true, I…”

I tilted my head for her to continue when she flared her nose at me. She was furious, but she knew I was right. Having a little pity on her, I stepped back and asked,

“What is that you were going to ask me? Before I asked you for the marriage?”

“Does it matter now?”

“Yes, it does matter to me.”

She gave me a wary look. “I was going to ask if you had found or chosen any bride yet.”

So she knew I had been looking for a bride.

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