Page 9 of Dirty Wild Sultan

You have to marry him.My father had said over the phone, his voice raspy with age, when I had landed in Azmia. I could hear the cruel smile in his voice. How I could ever be related to that man was a wonder on its own.

I couldn’t escape to London anymore. I had a student loan to pay off and my father took care of the money that he allowed me to spend. I still had some little cash that I had earned during my part-time job at a vet clinic in London, but it wasn’t enough to run away. Barely enough to survive.

Clenching my fists, I stood up from the bed and made my way to the vanity mirror. Staring back at the angry dark eyes, I promised myself that I would never marry that old man or any other consorts of my father’s choice. I won’t let myself suffer again. I will fight him.

The emerald jewelry of my mother glinted with the light. The golden intricate design feeling soft against the pad of my finger and the huge emerald diamond, shaped as a dewdrop hanging below it. My mother’smaang tikka. She had worn it as a family tradition during her wedding and gave it to me on her deathbed, promising me to wear it when I marry the person I love. She had regretted marrying my father, but she loved her children, loved us. So she wanted me not to repeat her mistake. Choose my heart over anything else.

I will keep that promise, Mother. Saying that to myself, I safely kept the jewelry in the drawer.

With a little hope, I stripped out of the jeans and tee shirt, donning a stunning black dress that felt liquid on my skin. Barely leaving anything to the imagination and accentuating my hips and curves, ending at my thigh. I adjusted the cleavage and the thin straps before applying minimal makeup.

Azmia was well known for its popular bars and clubs. Rumor had it that many celebrities and even royals themselves liked to party in the clubs. I could take a night off that I very well deserved and enjoy New Year’s Eve.

* * *

Tipping my head back,I swallowed the gin, licking my lips as I kept the glass on the counter. Pop music played in the background, people dancing and laughing on the stage, neon lights flashing over everyone’s bodies, glistening with sweat. I eyed the throng of the strangers’ faces, everyone enjoying in their own bubble, drinking, dancing, grinning.

Only half an hour left before the new year.

I hesitated only for a moment when the music changed to something heady, flowing between everyone, caressing my bare arms as if urging me to dance like a sensual lover. No one was going to give me another look here. No one knew that I was Princess Nasrin, the only Princess of Maahnoor. No one would care.

And if they did, they could very well go fuck themselves with a stick up their ass.

With my chin high, I stepped onto the dance floor, the music thrumming in my veins, the aftertaste of gin coating my mouth, encouraging me to close my eyes and move. Move my body the way I wanted it to, without the judgement of others. Just me and the music.

I danced, moving my hips and arms, caressing them with each new dance step, sweat coating my golden skin as I giggled and danced with three women. Our eyes bright as we swayed to the beat of the earthy, exotic music, getting lost in it.

“You look so sexy,” a man slurred, hiccupping when he tried to wrap his arms around my waist.

Stepping back, I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t budge. “I am not interested,” I said clearly, batting away his hands that tried to touch me.

“Then why are you dressed like that?”

Oh, for the love of—

“Because it’s her body and she can dress however she wants.” I turned my head to the smoky voice of the most handsome man I had ever seen. He glared at the man and spoke with authority, “Leave before I call security and have you arrested.”

I raised my brow when it seemed to work. The stranger took a step back, glancing between the two of us. “Who are you to step between us? I was just asking to dance with her.”

The handsome stranger’s eyes glittered, “I am the—”

“He is my husband, right, darling?” I smiled, leaning close to him.

“I am?” he questioned, tilting his head at me. The man scoffed, which made him glare at him again. “Yes, this beautiful woman is my wife. If you won’t leave us, I will call security.”

He left, leaving me with the handsome stranger.

He faced me, and my heart stuttered for a moment. His obsidian eyes pinned me in place while I tried not to trip in my heels, his tall, lean frame towering over me. The shirt he wore stretched over his broad shoulders, the shadows and lights of the club shadowing his chiseled sharp face. For a moment, I thought there was something familiar about him. My mind nagging at me to step back at the predatory glint in his eyes. Step back and hide myself.

But I didn’t move.

Icouldn’tmove.

I was in awe of his beauty. Captivated. The sheer power pouring out of him, people holding their breath when they looked between us. The music blurred out, as if I was underwater, shamelessly staring at the man who stood across from me. A head taller than me, even though I was tall for a female with the heels donning my feet. But he didn’t make me feel small. No, he made me feel different. The feeling I couldn’t put a finger on when he tipped my jaw towards him, the soft touch of his finger burning my skin, flaming it.

“You areLimerence,” he spoke, his voice so deep and smooth that I wanted to sigh.

We were so close that my chest brushed his shirt. I took a deep breath, controlling myself from inviting him to my hotel room. By the way he expelled sheer male sexuality, everyone gawking at him with heart eyes. I knew he would be good—no,terrific, in bed.

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