Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“What about fucking? Don’t you at least want someone you’d enjoy fucking?” When Khalil merely shrugged, Tarif’s eyebrow arched in surprise. “You are serious? You do not care about sexual compatibility at all?”
“Not all is as sex-crazed as you are,” Altair said with a shrug.
“Same goes for you, old boy,” Tarif responded lazily. “Not everyone can live like a monk like you do.”
Khalil started to speak when something – someone – caught his eye. Her head was bowed, her dark hair falling like a curtain that covered her face. She was showing her purse for inspection, and his gaze narrowed, the sheikh waiting for the woman to turn his way.
Finally, the woman stepped past the security sensor gates, and when she looked up—-
Ah.
Harper Griffiths.
It had been a year since the sheikh had last seen her, and she still looked just as he remembered. Raven-black hair that was long and silky straight, flashing green eyes, and a voluptuous body made more alluring by the type of dresses that she liked to wear: feminine, conservative, but just tight enough to make a man fantasize about what was underneath.
Unlike most women of his acquaintance, Harper had never tried to take advantage of her friendship with him. In fact, Harper would always strongly insist that he was not a friend at all, and in all the years she had visited the palace, not once had she granted an interview about him.
Harper Griffiths, the sheikh thought again.
And this time, an idea slowly took shape in his mind.
When he glanced up, he saw that all four of his cousins were gazing knowingly at him.
“So this is why you have been as picky as that girl from the fairytale,” Altair mocked.
“Goldilocks,” Tarif slotted in. “Do you seriously not know that?” And then to Khalil, he said with a sigh, “You could have saved us all the worry by telling us you were simply waiting for your favorite toy.”
“I agree with your choice.” Malik’s tone was approving.
“And since we all know how you prefer horses to women, I’d say that’s a huge compliment, coming from you.” Rayyan’s tone became musing. “It’s a pity she’s not even of noble blood, but still, I can see the advantages of marrying someone like her—-”
“Enough.” Khalil’s tone was exasperated. “I haven’t even said anything.”
The other sheikhs stared at him.
And then Altair said simply, “You didn’t have to.”
“We’re not blind,” Tarif said with a roll of his eyes.
Malik gestured to the woman who had just walked past them, her arm looped around her father’s. “And that’s her, isn’t it?”
“Harper Griffiths,” Rayyan murmured. “But the real question here is – do you think she will agree to marry you?”
“YOU’RE VAIN AS EVER, Dad.”
“And you’re too young to be a nag.”
Harper let out an unladylike grunt, the sound making her father frown, which she pretended not to notice. The truth was, she didn’t really think Howard was vain. Rather, he was an immensely proud man, and even though it had been almost a decade since he had left the army, he was still unable to fully accept having to limp for the rest of his life, much less make use of a walking stick.
And especially not now, Harper thought.
Usbue Min Al-Abtal or Heroes’ Week was one of the kingdom’s most important holidays. As Ramilians took pride in their dedication to history, the nation and its people always went all out in celebrating the lives of its heroes, both known and unsung. Her father, having saved the life of a beloved Ramilian general, was one of those heroes, and it was for this reason that one week each year, Harper and her father flew from their tiny, government-provided home in Syracuse, Nebraska to the kingdom of Ramil.
Peeking at Howard’s face, Harper saw her father’s slight grimace, and her lips pressed together in an effort to hold her tongue. Howard might be willing to use his walking stick back at home, but never here.
Not in the one place he could pretend he was what he used to be, and he was still able to do what he loved.
“Stop staring at me like you’re thinking I’m about to keel over.” The words came out in a low, grumbling tone even as Howard’s gaze remained straight ahead.
“You’re wrong,” Harper answered, also without turning in Howard’s direction. “I’m not just thinking it. I’m waiting for it to happen, and it will happen if we don’t at least stop and give your leg a rest.” With that said, she forcibly dragged her father to the closest vacant cocktail table.
Relief flashed in Howard’s eyes as he leaned against the wall and rested his injured leg.
Told you so, Harper thought.
Howard glared at her. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She ignored that, saying, “You need a glass of water.”
“Stop babying me.”
Harper turned around, hoping to catch the eye of one of the roaming servers, but then a hush fell over the vast reception hall, and when everyone actually came to an abrupt standstill –