Page 90 of Shâhzâdeh

“I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m not some spy or something—”

“Vanya, zhe innocence about you is addictive.” He smiled softly before it dropped and he looked mildly embarrassed. “My attraction to you is one I have to put a lot of effort into keeping hidden.”

“You’ve failed. Miserably at that.” I wondered if the man had ever been in the room when e were together. How he spoke televised to everyone how he felt about me. The lust in his eyes spoke of all the things he wanted to do whenever I gave him the green light.

He took a step toward me and my breathing hitched as my heart rate sped up. He sniffed the air around me, groaning softly. “My dick has never poked you in zhe stomach because I’ve never let you get zhat close. Zhis is very close and zhe idea zhat you might be concerned about my attraction isn’t somezing I want in your mind.” He was staring at me with eyes unabashedly filled with lust as I struggled to even catch my breath.

“Xerxes, I’ve agreed to be your wife. You think that seeing you turned on is something that I won’t like?” I looked down seeing a bulge in his suit pants.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, flaring his nose. “I’m trying to be respectful—”

“If I didn’t already know that you were, I would’ve let you get shot.”

He barked a laugh and then ran his hand through his hair in resolution. “You do not mind me staying here?”

It wasn’t something that I had ever thought about but I knew we needed to get used to being around one another.

“I’m assuming we’re going to be moving into the house in a few days?” I couldn’t help but be excited at the change my life was going through. I’d fallen in love with the house that Xerxes had purchased and it made me happy that he was happy. And since we were…friends or something like that, I knew I’d be an able to visit. But to have a man like him and a house like that? I truly didn’t have room to receive all the blessings.

He smiled at me like he could see just how happy I was about that. “You assume right.”

“Good thing I really love that house. Otherwise you’d have to be looking for another one.” I was trying to be playful about it but he kept his face serious.

“I’d buy however many necessary to ensure you vere happy.” He looked exhausted and when he swayed slightly I knew he needed to get off his feet.

“I normally have a rule about people laying down in the bed without bathing, but you look like you’re about to fall out.”

“The couch will suffice, Vanya.”

“You were just—”

Xerxes brushed the side of my face with his thumb before quickly pulling his hand back. “Ziba,trust me on zhis. Zhe sofa is vhere I vill spend zhe night. I have been shot and my emotions have been fluctuating all day. As I said, my resistance is down and I vill not be satisfied with us connecting off of such an emotional event. Rest and I vill do the same. I’m even more comforted knowing zhat we will be facing tomorrow and zhe rest of our tomorrows togezer.”

I watched him move around the living room littered with boxes dancing to the song playing through the speakers set throughout the main areas of the house. It had been two days since the shootout and most of our items had been delivered yesterday or this morning. Xerxes and I had discussed where the furniture I had would be placed. There was a room he said could be the lady’s lounge and my living room furniture was now there. We were lucky enough that I’d put him in contact with a local furniture builder who’d been working diligently on the custom bed Xerxes wanted. He agreed to deliver a temporary frame that would fit the oversized mattress Xerxes customized while the rest of the carving was done on his bed. Xerxes was probably the most agreeable client I’d ever worked with because instead of demanding the carpenter to hurry and fit his modified timeframe, he thanked them and told him he wanted it right no matter how long it would take.

I never got to see this end of the home buying process. Where I got to watch a customer live in their new home and exhibit this type of joy. I’d never expected to be here with him, but I loved this house. Xerxes’ movements were joy personified. He flowed through the space as though it had been built specifically for him. The contractors had done an amazing job with putting in the finishing touches that were necessary for him to move in, and the fountain was going to be hand carved polished limestone that was over eight feet tall.

Xerxes had ridiculous rhythm. His playlist was diversified and flowed from rap to R&B to music I could only assume was Arabic or Persian. The same way he embodied his cultures in his dress, his manner, his very aura, he smoothly danced through every genre fluidly. When Xerxes did this hip dip move that reminded me of something Shakira or Beyonce would do but was masculine as hell I knew I had to interrupt him.

“There’s a problem.”

He stopped abruptly turning with a smile before strolling toward me. That was another thing. He always smiled. Xerxes had always had a brooding masculine beauty to him, but his smile? He seemed to transform into a Blarasian model that deserved to be on someone’s magazine cover. And his damn dimple was the kill shot.

“What problem? Tell me and I will ensure we fix it wizin zhe hour.”

His bare feet padded across the Persian rug, the only request that he had for this room. It was a Kashmar rug made is that region of Iran. The colors were golds, greens and deep blues that looked just as regal as the wood floors and organize fireplace. It was one of the few pieces in the entire room.

The confidence he had to tell me things would be fine and we would fix it together was something I had to get used to. It was a warm feeling, hearing someone say they would work with you instead of against you. And then prove they would do exactly that without question.

“You were just in here enjoying yourself and I see that dancing and music make you really happy. But the problem is, I don’t know how to dance.” I shifted uncomfortably before steeling myself for his judgement.

He stood up and looked at me curiously like he was waiting one to elaborate. I didn’t so he did. “What do you mean? Like a formal dance, or at all?”

“At all. I don’t think I have that natural rhythm that Black people are supposed to be born with. I’m defective. My ancestors didn’t fight hard enough for my melanin or my rhythm.” I pointed at my face to prove my point.

He smiled as I laughed, and he brushed his finger across the freckles on my arm.

“Your melanin is just scattered across your skin. Zhey wanted to be even more striking wiz you. Do not zhink zhey gave up.” He gingerly danced his fingers across my nose and cheek before pulling his hand back.

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