Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
A few beats pass as if Ahmad needs time to digest my change of heart. He nods. “That is good. Sheikh Al Rafi will adore you. He didn’t mean what he said earlier. You must remember the rules, Ms. Luxury.”
I ignore his request for obedience. “What about you? Do you like my smile?”
His black marble eyes flit away, then the dominant murderer I pegged him for comes out full force. “Ms. Whitson, you have been claimed by the sheikh.”
“Help me . . .” I gulp back bits of flirtatious-induced nausea. Why hadn’t I done this before? In the city, Ahmad’s eyes stayed glued to me. He put himself in danger by shielding me from the sandstorm. His attraction is obvious in hindsight.
“As I've previously advised, there are miles and miles of desolate land from here to Saudi Arabia. If you make it to the city, other horrors await.”
My eyelid twitches. I feel I’m being treated so well because that fat fuck, the sheikh, is nasty as hell. It’s either be a pretty whore or— Or what, Lux?
“What other horrors?” I ask.
“Again,” Ahmad clears his throat, “a sure death awaits outside these walls, Ms. Luxury!” He shouts so hard that I jump. “I am sorry.” Ahmad attempts to brush my tears away with his thumb.
My face snaps away from his tender touch. “Why am I here?”
“Victor Tudor. The man you claim to love.”
“I do.”
Jealousy roils from Ahmad’s brawny physique. Before turning on the heels of his boots, Ahmad says again, “Then your love shall atone for his sins.”
5
Victor
I’ve waded through inches of stagnant, reeking water in a dimly lit tunnel for over four hours. I scoured my brain for all of the discreet exits I showed Graham when we were younger. I’d been too old to play with him—nearly an adult—and had humored him, nonetheless. The rug rat had just viewed one of the 007 franchise films and claimed he’d die if he couldn’t find all the ways to sneak past the guards. The recon was rusty in my mind even then.
Today, I barely find one of the exits that don’t stray into an area monitored by one of the Queen’s Guards. I’m striding from a hedge garden and toward the street when my eyes lock onto an envious pair, sinking my heart.
“For every one of your misdeeds, I’ve done twenty more.” Silas appears ignorant, watching a pair of smooth pebbles descend from one of his fisted palms into the next. I’m on guard, having never trusted my father. “Each wing of the palace leads to a different exit. Bravo, Victor, you made it past the hounds.”
Although I’ve mastered the art of ignoring my father, I continue walking while muttering, “Now what?”
“Now you go back inside and marry that ugly one. Live your life.” He keeps pace beside me as we walk past gas lamps.
“As clever as you claim to be, Silas, that is impossible.”
“I’m aware that you’ve fallen in love yet again, you daft fool!” He pauses before me, squaring his stance expectantly. “I just got word exactly what you've been up to.”
“What’s that?” I tilt my head in mild interest.
“Burt told me. You’ve made a real cock-up with the Sheikh of Saudi Arabia as your target. Consider this my first fatherly duty.”
Eyebrow rising, I repeat his sentiments. “Fatherly duty?”
As I step forward, his hands slam into my chest. I take it. The force could knock me off my feet, but my feelings and everything else about me stalls.
“Let the girl go!” Again, Silas shunts me.
“As you wish, King of Nowhere.”
“I won’t have you—”
“You have not a single territory to rule over,” I sarcastically grit out. “Now stop drawing attention to us.”
“Victor,” he gasps, “you’ll start a war with another country?”
Bugger me! Silas strides aside me, fidgeting with his pebbles.
“No, I do not desire to start a war with anyone. But do not be mistaken, by any means, Silas, by any means.” My deadly tone irritates him more. Before my father gets a word in, I cut him off. “My sole intent is to recover what belongs to me. My lady and my . . .” The arduous word won’t extract itself from my mouth. My child. I have lost love before. There will be no return to that place again . . . that mindset where death is welcoming.
If I go back, there will be no return.
“Let her go. They already have her. They win! You’ve lost.” Silas throws the rocks and gestures with his hands. “Marry the ugly one. Fancy a fucking family? Then start a fucking family and be done with this mess. Have whores up and down the fucking continent. Scottish. Asian. Black. Just not the one Al Rafi now owns!”
Fury burns my dry eyes.
Days ago, I’d have torn a bloke’s head off for saying someone other than me owned Luxury Whitson. She was always meant to be mine.