Lovely Concubine
Page 2
Of course, there is a problem. I am a newly formed archaeologist, I have no place to live, much less where to die. I am still paying the university credit, by kidnapping me what will you get? A Riocard pass and fifty dollars? So much logistics for nothing.
Kidnapping a poor, ordinary woman has no logic at all. Not even for a crazy guy like him.
Wait, the guy just called him Majesty, what the fuck is going on here?
-Why did he call you majesty?
He looks at me with an annoying sarcasm and almost smiles.
-I thought you westerners were smarter. Obviously, why should anyone be called majesty? Today I am generous, so I will give you three options. Option one: Am I the janitor of the Mosque? Option Two: A Merchant of Flying Rugs? Oh, maybe I'm Aladdin himself. Look, girl, I give up, I don’ t have the patience for games. I am the king of this country, Nahan Zayn Asi Tarif. And taking you to your home in Qatar will not be possible, you are in Manama, Bahrain.
Good Heaven! He's the king of this country, I've never heard of this place, where is it? Is it near Qatar? I'm stuck here with this psycho guy, he thought about killing me and I do not even know why I'm going to die.
Why life is so ironic.
I am born and raised in Rio de Janeiro, where there are the most dangerous neighbourhoods in the country and the first time I leave Brazil, I will die in this completely unknown place, where my sister will never find me.
I think of all this and without trying to contain myself, I cry ... I cry because I'm so young, I have not yet lived, so much that I dreamed of.
She cries and without my will, my heart is filled with disturbing sensations.
She seems to be so young, I think less than 21 years, her eyes are so blue, alive, inquisitors.
Her lips full, she is delicate.
The very white skin and the blond hair falling through the narrow shoulders, give it an aspect of fragility.
I look at her on the bed, the pallor of her figure contrasting with the black satin and my legs lead me to her, without my wanting, like a magnet.
Your body has soft, irritatingly feminine shapes, it takes my focus away, much, more than I would like.
What's happening to me? Why do I feel this attraction for her, I look and look again, unable to take my eyes off that girl.
If she was not another man's wife, I don’t think I would think twice, I'd take her for myself, no chance of letting her escape.
Focus, Focus Nahan.
Let her cry, this is all a feminine trap to soften your heart.
Remember ... go with the plan. That's what you have to do!!!
STOP LOOKING AT HER ...
That way you can finish it. Focus to stage the whole show, to contact Sheikh Karim or his son, the current ruler of Qatar, Prince Hafiq Hassan.
Tell them the reason his wife is being sacrificed. Remind them of my family's still fresh blood on their hands and kill her.
Just like my Ishna, just like my little Amira, my little girl.
She will have to die, even if my male instincts are begging me to claim her.
That's what I'm going to do. My desire for a woman will never overlap my king commitments.
I will never do that.
Never.
CHAPTER 1
KING NAHAN
She continues to cry, without making boasts, quiet and placid like a sheep going to be sacrificed.
It troubles me this frail girl, she does not quarrel, not curse me, she still doesn’t believe in the end that is waiting for her. And I strangely also look closely at those deep, vivid blue eyes and I find it difficult to believe that I will be able to end her life.
But my plans must follow their course, Sheikh Karim did not have a second thought, pity on my wife and daughter.
He knew that in that damn car were the only people who made my life have any sense and yet blew them to pieces.
Since that day my life has been shattered too, in small and miserable little pieces of self-pity, anger, desire for revenge.
Collecting my shards became a futile task, so I simply did what I do best: to govern my country towards progress, with a strong pulse, and exemplarily punishing the insurgents. In my government, there is no room for chaos, this I reserve for my personal life. To my people, only the best.
I am awakened from my thoughts by the low, trembling voice of Queen Antonia.
-How much do you want for the ransom? I have friends, I could talk to them.
I interrupt your attempt to beg for your life, it will only make me feel worse than I already am.
-It's not about money, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
- But ...
-Shhh, silence, I'll let you sleep, feel at ease, for as long as I want to keep you alive, make this palace your humble home.
When I'm at the door I still feel drawn to hearing her soft voice a little more.
-And don’t even think about running away, do you understand?
- Yes sir.
These words hit my sex like a shock, the low, light-bodied tone in which she called me sir, made me fantasize with her lying on my bed, asking me, "Sir, please, fuck me!", I am ready and wet to welcome you, my lord ... "," stronger, I need you to penetrate me stronger, sir! ".
ALLAH! Please! I don’t need those thoughts, I definitely, do not need to fantasize about a woman I barely know and, besides, wife of my biggest enemy.
No, I don’t want this! Enough.
I locked the door and went to meet Jafar, at the office. He is standing up and down like a prey, something wrong is happening.
I close the door behind me and Jafar leaps in panic.
I walk quietly to my table of meetings, I sit rolling my mother's rosary in my fingers, I point out a chair in front of me and I get right to the point.
-What did you want to talk to me about, that is so important?
Jafar is my government's right-hand man, the head of my guards, one of the few people I trust, he is my cousin and a deep connoisseur of the mischief, and of the affairs of the kingdom of Bahrain.
-My King, the matter is serious. You know how much I have always been faithful to you, how much our friendship ...
Even though he's my cousin and my best friend, I don’t have time to waste on dodges. I am not a man of bended words, I like righteousness, the right shot, precision is a quality and a virtue that I seek relentlessly in my life.
-Jafar, go on! Without sweet words, I have a revenge to plan and a sleepless night ahead.
-This young lady was in an official Qatari Government vehicle, accompanied by security, all of which led them to believe that she was a member of the royal family, made my men think she was the queen. They followed her and brought her here, but she is a friend of Queen Antonia.
- What, Jafar? The summary of this burlesque opera is that you kidnapped the wrong woman, is that what I hear?
-Yes, my King, I have learned a little while ago, they have mixed her up with Queen Antonia, and now I don’t know what to do.
-Well, I'll tell you what to do, preferably take a very thick rope.
Jafar widens his eyes and from where I stand, I see his hands shake, if he was not my cousin I was sure to hang him by his balls in the middle of the ballroom.
- My king.
-Not a peep, if I treated you like your king, you would not be alive here in front of me. I cannot talk to you right now, you're lucky to be my cousin and my friend, I'm furious, Jafar, furious!
Jafar got up and came towards me.
-Sir, I will voluntarily lock myself in the basement for seven days.
I walk from side to side, panting, this turn of the game really caught me off guard!
Good Heaven! They got the wrong woman, hell, what to do now? Jafar looks away from me, he is devastated and I am too, I suddenly remember the two of us, still children, still boys running through this palace, I look at his expression of embarrassment and rebate:
-Five Jafar.
He lowers his head and still refuses to
face me.
-Six, sir, my fault was most grievous.
I lift my chin and challenge, I've always been a great negotiator.
- Three.
-My King, please forgive me.
-My last bid. It is either down or down!!!
-Two days and a horse race. Of course, I'm a winner, take it or leave it!
Even dead ashamed, with his honour scratched, I could see the subtle shadow of a smile on Jafar's face.
Killing my friend will not solve my problem, apparently, death is something that will not be part of the menu for the next few days.
I go to my prisoner's room, or involuntary guest, and she's asleep. The curvy, soft body in the pale light of the lamp.
I notice she found the nightgown that I bought and looking at it now, I do not know if I have ever seen anything more beautiful in my life.
Her pale skin contrasted with the dark blue satin, the delicate lace failing to cover her breasts, a soft piece of meat on display, which incites me to salivate even more.
The soft fabric hugging her hips and her tiny feet push me to get closer. When I wake up from the spell she threw in, I'm sitting on the edge of her bed and her startled eyes open to me.
She hesitates:
-You meant to suffocate me asleep?
I smile and respond without hesitation:
- Not today. I'm tired, maybe another day.
-Okay, so can I sleep?
-Yes, I'm going to sleep, too, before I go, what's your name, girl?
She leans over her elbow and looks at me annoyed.
-Stop calling me girl, my name is Bianca.
-Looks like we started with the left foot, I'm going to introduce myself again, I'm Nahan, Bianca.
She was silent, then turned her back to me, mumbling softly,
-You want to kill me, and now you are nearly shaking my hand, this guy is crazy.
I pretended not to hear, just as I pretended to go back to my room. When she finally fell asleep, I went back to her room and laid down on the couch, facing her bed.
My insomnia today is stronger than other days. I watched the daylight dawn, looking at the fabric of her nightgown curl around her pale thighs, a pink nipple leaping from her cleavage, and the images of her deeply feminine body hammering in my mind in the early hours of the morning.
I can’t go ahead with my plans since this girl is not the queen. Which brings me to the next two questions: after all, who is this woman? And what am I going to do with her now?
Let her go? I don’t think I'm so benevolent. I want to keep her for my eyes view. And who knows until one day, when I get some courage, for my lips and for my hands.
CHAPTER 2
"You do not do any good
In liking, someone
Nor me, nor me, nor me
Who invented love was not I
It was not me, it was not me.
It was not me or anyone. "
Dorival Caymmi, Nor me
BIANCA
I move my body slowly in soft sheets and my skin shivers as it grazes on the satin, which caresses my body. I open my eyes slowly, fantasizing that last night was just a crazy nightmare and when I take courage, I lean on my elbows, I look at the sofa and I see that everything I have lived was the purest reality.
I was kidnapped by a king of a country that I never even knew existed, he is without a doubt the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life and all this would be rather bizarre if that guy was not now watching me with the calmest face on earth, after telling me loud and clear that my days are numbered.
He looks at me in disbelief and I realize that he has already bathed and changed.
His hair is still damp, which gives me a strange urge to see if it is as soft as I imagine, and yesterday's traditional clothes made room for a three-piece lead-coloured suit with perfect tailor cut.
The Italian leather shoes and the sky blue tie give it a contemporary, cosmopolitan, business-like air, quite different from the almost surreal figure I was introduced to, yesterday.
And I honestly do not know if he is more irresistible in typical clothes or in that suit of pulling sighs. I think that anyway; this guy is thought-provoking to the bone and period.
Nahan walks over and sits on the edge of my bed, making me tense with our sudden closeness. Now that he's so close his delicious male scent completely takes over my system, I realize we're all alone, locked in a room and staring at each other as if flirting with each other.
- Good morning, Bianca.
I open my mouth, thinking how I should really call him, I give up and shut up. He senses my hesitation and I can almost see a slight sign of a smile on his face. I try to be polite, does he give back my life if I win his sympathy? I need to play this with all the cards in my favour, that shadow of a smile can be something positive for me after all.
-Good morning, King, Your Majesty.
He raises his eyebrow, curious and looks at me with amused air.
- King, Your Majesty? Wow! It's too much for one man. Call me Nahan, only Nahan, Bianca.
-Nahan, I have heard that the Arab names have interesting meanings, what is the meaning of your name?
He comes closer and I sit on the bed, pulling the sheet to cover the curve of my breasts, which I caught him looking disguised. Nahan asks, trying to sound serious:
-You promise not to laugh?
I nod and he explains me waiting for my reaction.
- Sweet as honey.
- What? How?
-I was a baby, damn! My mother did not imagine that I would become a kind of difficult guy, let's put it this way.
I keep looking at him, trying to figure out in what basement Nahan has locked this sweetness, at what corner of his life the crudity, the brutality has taken over.
-It does not seem to have much to do with your highness.
-Do not make me feel like an old baboon, I'm only 34 years old Bianca, call me, you. By the way, I have not had coffee yet. Jafar brought some clothes for you this morning, they're in the closet. Take a shower and dress something light, I'll be waiting for you in the living room.
Why is he being so polite and assertive, he already made it clear that he will use me for some misguided revenge against the Hassan family, what is his real intention in posing as a gentle man? Nahan attitude is very strange. First comes with this laid-back coffee break to me, and then what? Torture session with me? I do not fall for this, I prefer to stay here in the room.
-I'd rather stay in the room if your majesty, I mean, if you don’t mind, Nahan.
- Yes, I mind. Of course, I do. I'm waiting for you downstairs, don’t even think about trying to escape, the castle is surrounded by guards everywhere, one of them will accompany you, I'll wait for you in the living room.
Nahan does not give me time to argue, leaving me confused, after all what does this man want from me?
I think the best attitude is to keep him calm, maybe he even returns me back to Brenda sooner than I think. I take it that he left and I go to the closet, almost the size of my suite in Vila Isabel.
I look at what blessed light clothes I'm going to wear, and when I open the sliding doors, I find a lot of women's clothes in well-kept shelves, I look at the clothes and they're all still labelled, everything so ostentatious, so expensive, I ask myself: why? Give clothes to a woman if you intend to kill her? This is so crazy, I prefer to delude myself that everything is just a big misunderstanding.
I pick up a green dress with thin straps, knee-high, steamy, with a sensual but discreet cleavage. I go to the bathroom and look at a nababesque bathtub, taps in the sink, golden fish-shaped, each bath foam smelling nicer than the other.
But since Nahan is waiting for me to have his coffee, I decide to take a quick shower and take a bath in the tub, later. My hair is still damp and I keep it loose. Finally, I wear some delicate sandals.
I'm ready to face whatever comes! I don’t know who I'm lying to that way, blatantly!
I'm scared of what’
s to come, but I need to keep the minimum of control, fight with the best weapons I have and rely on the luck factor. As soon as I leave the room I am led by a silent, frowning guard.
As much as I fear Nahan, watching him as I enter the living room, I stare at him and I can’t see cruelty in his eyes.
A palpable pain, a lot of anger, indignation, a desire for revenge, but raw and naked wickedness, I don’t see it in his eyes.
He gets up and pulls the chair toward me, I sit, arched back, waiting for the worst, nerves tense like the strings of a violin, a terrifying silence between us. A table was laid with all sorts of delicacies, flowers adorned the delicate linen tablecloth. Nahan watches me and serves me a cup of coffee, which smells so good even from a distance, and I look at the cup, as if in this hot black liquid I could glimpse my future, asking Nahan silently for answers.
- Bianca, have your coffee, I will not do you any harm, please eat.
I manage, with a shaky voice, to ask him what I want to know.
-You're going to set me free or you decided that you'll get me ...
I can’t complete this sentence, is my heart so stupid? Why do I still believe that everything will end well? Is it hope, the crutch of fools? I prefer to believe in the human being.
-I can’t release you, you're not going back to Qatar.
I get up in shock and look at him trying to hold back the tears, I begin to release the fear, the revolt, the scream, that in years of passivity I insisted on restraining. King Nahan don’t expect from me the subservience of a peaceful little lamb going to slaughter. I'll fight, I'll scream, he's got to hear me.
-You must listen to me, Nahan, where is your humanity? Your soul? How can you do this to me, I have nothing to do with your battles, I ... I ... Let me go ... let me go.
Nahan gets up and takes me in his arms in a jolt, he sits me on the coffee table and leans on my waist, I start shaking, punching his shoulders, futilely trying to move that wall of a man, but even so I continue to purge my revolt.
- Bianca, stop it! Stop, look at me, look at me.
What was meant to be a fight, a clash, takes another turn ... My breasts squeezed close to Nahan's chest, my nipples stiffening awkwardly, sensitive to brush against his body, my God!
What is it?! He pulls my hair back, and i stare at him for long minutes, his face inches from mine, his brown eyes narrowing in a predatory gesture, as if he wanted to devour me whole.