Page 21 of Dirty Wild Sultan

“I have.” I looked straight at her with burning brown eyes. “Now.”

“Why are you doing all of this, Zain?” she asked, her voice lowering that pulled at my stomach. “I am a lowly princess from Maahnoor. Surely women must be begging you on their knees to be your wife. Our countries are sworn enemies, and yet here you are.”

“You are not a lowly princess, Nasrin. The history between Azmia and Maahnoor runs deeper than you know. If you accept my proposal, it will benefit our countries for the better.” I took her palm, ignoring her warm touch, and lightly brushed my lips over her knuckles. “You have until tomorrow to think about this, or I will have to take measures and matters into my own hands, Princess.”

I stepped back, turning my back on her when she asked, “What will those measures include?”

Staring straight at her, I said, “Dethroning your eldest brother from being the Sultan of Maahnoor and making sure no one but that sheikh has a marriage proposal for you.” I removed an imaginary speck of lint from my black shirt and continued, “We both know your father enough that he’d accept the Sheikh’s proposal. I am giving you a choice, Nasrin.”

“It’s not a choice if it’s between that sheikh and you.” she clenched her jaw, her eyes gleaming. “You are being cruel.”

I stared at her. Maybe I was. How far does the apple fall from its tree? “Maybe. But I am not marrying for the same reason that sheikh is. I do not… want to force you into a physical marriage.”

Nasrin frowned, her eyes gliding over my body. Crossing her arms, she raised her chin and asked, “Then? Why would you marry me?”

I cleared my throat, raking a hand through my hair. “You are beautiful, Nasrin. You must know that. But I don’t care about your physical attributes. I have to get married, get a wife, a sultana. The animosity between our countries will end with you being the Sultana of Azmia.”

Silence hung between us, the guards shuffling a few yards away. They couldn’t hear us, but they must have felt the hovering tension between us.

“Will you,” she took a deep breath and stepped closer, “Will you help me dethrone my eldest brother?”

Amusement glinted in my eyes as I raised my brow.

Nasrin continued, “We both know why you want to dethrone him. He has made terrible mistakes as the Sultan of Maahnoor and harassing a young man. That was the last straw. My younger brother, Imran, he will be a far better sultan, Zain.”

I gazed at her dark eyes, fueled with determination to do the right thing. I leaned down and purred against her cheek, “If you become a sultana,my wife, you can do anything you want, Nasrin.”

She took a shuddering breath when I pulled away. “I would need to think about it.”

“You have until tomorrow.”

Her eyes blazed, “Do not force me into this marriage, Zain.”

I took a sharp breath and glared at her, her eyes blinking back at me as if it shocked her. Her words had cut right through me.

“I won’t wait more than a week,” I said, and walked away without giving her a second look. The guards stayed with her while I made my way to my room.

She didn’t know how much her words had hurt. A stab to my heart.

Those were the same words I had heard my mother speak, sobbing through tears when me and Khalid would try to console her after our father’s cruelty. She would weep silently, running her hands through our hair, having little Khalid sit on her lap because he was scared and tell us how he had forced her to get married.

My father had seen my mother in the market, called it love, and ordered her to accept his hand in marriage. She was wooed by his charms, but didn’t know she was selling her body and soul to a devil until it was too late.

Do not force me into this marriage, Zain.

Nasrin’s sharp words echoed in my head when sleep came to me at the darkest hour, hoping I wouldn’t wake up with another twisted nightmare. Because I had become the only person I hated in the world.

My father.

11

Nasrin

“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?

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