Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
When the sheikh took his seat, which faced the small, cultivated forest on the left, he realized with unease that the distance he had sought was nonexistent, with Aurora promptly plopping next to him on the couch.
She was closer than ever now, so close that when she kicked off her slippers and pulled her legs up, her bare toes grazed against the side of his thighs.
“If Mik’hail is to be what I call you when we’re alone,” Aurora murmured, “what then shall you call me?”
This, he didn’t have to think about.
“Brat,” the sheikh said right away, and smirked at the way Aurora’s jaw dropped open.
“I am not a brat!”
The sheikh laughed at the outright lie. “Yes, you are. And you know it.” Actually, they both knew it. The entire palace knew it, but even so everyone loved her because she was, ultimately, a lovable brat. She was the kind of brat who badgered the cook until the old lady allowed her to help in the kitchen. She was the kind of brat who berated the butler for not sitting down when he was tired rather than stand on foot all day. She was a brat, but she meant well, and the feelings he strove to bury were harder to keep a secret because of it.
Aurora was laughing. “Fine. I can be a brat, but not all the time. You know it’s so.” Jumping to her feet, she gave the sheikh a wave. “I need to get back to my roses.”
“You mean my roses,” he reminded her.
“We can share them then,” she answered magnanimously as she slid her feet back into her slippers.
He watched her walk away and tried not to notice the graceful sway of her movement. She was halfway to the garden beds when she suddenly turned around, asking uncertainly, “Is it really okay...that I’m coming here? I don’t want to intrude on your privacy—”
The sheikh shook his head. “You are free to visit this place anytime.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
The sheikh rolled his eyes at the way she took exaggerated care with her curtsy. “Go on, brat.” As Aurora knelt down to resume work on the garden beds, Mik’hail took his phone out of his pocket and sent a message to his betrothed.
Mik’hail: Will you be back by tomorrow?
Aretha: We have been invited to stay over the weekend. I fear it would be offensive if we didn’t accept.
His lips twisted. As the future queen of Layla, she could do anything she wanted, and no one would dare disagree.
Mik’hail: Come back tomorrow. It is time we set a date for our wedding.
Aretha: This again, Michael? What’s wrong with you?
A loaded question, considering they both knew the answer to it.
The sheikh was no fool. Neither of them had been virgins when they first became intimate, and he knew that Aretha continued to see other men even now. But Aretha also knew that once they spoke their vows, Mik’hail meant for both of them to honor it, and between the two of them, it appeared Aretha was less prepared to handle a monogamous future.
The sheikh was about to command Aretha to come back to the palace first thing tomorrow when he heard Aurora cry out.
“What is it?” Mik’hail was by her side in a second.
Aurora shook her head quickly when the sheikh started to kneel. “No, don’t, you’ll get yourself dirty—”
A silly protest, which the sheikh naturally ignored as he crouched down and gently reached for her hand. “What happened?”
“It’s my fault,” she confessed sheepishly, “for being an idiot. I thought I had cut off all the thorns when I pulled the rose out.” She pointed to her index finger, which had a speck of blood on it.
He loathed the sight—there was something about knowing she was hurt that did not sit well with the sheikh at all. Without thinking, he reached for her finger and brought it to his lips.
Aurora said faintly, “Your Highness?”
The taste of her skin, the intimacy of having any part of her this close—
He released her hand right away and bit out an apology.
“It’s fine.” Aurora’s tone was a little too cheerful, her cheeks a flaming shade of red. “You thought to kiss it better because you still think of me as a child.” She made a face. “But just to be clear, akh: I’m not a child.”
No, she damn well wasn’t, and that was the problem. She was eighteen, an adult in the eyes of law, and that meant she was old enough to make her own choices.
And he wanted her to choose him.
But she couldn’t. She never could.
Aurora was staring at him oddly. “Why do you look so angry?”
Because I want you, and I can’t have you.
But since he couldn’t say that, he racked his mind for a way to distract her. “Briar,” Mik’hail heard himself say finally.