by Erin Snihur
Tariq snorted. “Here we go again with Mr. Romantic. I swear, Amelia has made you soft, my friend.”
Khalid’s eyes turned hard and his grin turned maniacal. “Hard actually. With every breath.”
Amoz and Malik both laughed at Khalid’s innuendo as Tariq rolled his eyes. When all four settled and the only noise in the room was the tik tok of the grandfather clock and Kasin’s snoring, Malik stood abruptly, startling the others.
“This was just supposed to be a business arrangement. I was going to marry her and, when the companies were mine, I had planned on divorcing her,” Malik said as he began to pace in front of the roaring fireplace.
Tariq shrugged. “Then do that. I don’t see what the problem is. Khalid divorced Dareen. Why can’t you?”
Malik clenched his fists tightly. “I can’t divorce her. Imad found my father's will and mentioned this specific part. If I divorce within the first year of marriage, Batra will fall to the next heir. My Uncle Artis.”
Silence.
“Fuck,” Tariq shouted and the rest hummed in agreement.
All Malik could think of was his sweet, little manipulative wife in their bed. Waiting for him. Waiting for their wedding night.
Fuck indeed.
11
Malik groaned and rubbed a hand over his face as he stumbled down the hallway toward his chambers. Not just his. His and Samara’s. Grumbling under his breath, he had just turned the corner and nodded at the guards who stood silent at the doors, when he found that the doorknob wouldn’t budge. The door had been locked.
Glaring at the two guards who remained silent while Malik tried to open the door, he snapped his fingers, gaining their attention in an instant.
“Why is the door locked?” Malik snarled, looking between the two guards.
One guard opened his mouth while the other stared in shock at Malik, as if unsure how to answer. Imbeciles, Malik inwardly hissed.
Finally, one spoke up, “Her Majesty received a key from the maid. We did not know she was not allowed a key, your Highness.”
Shaking his head, Malik glared at them, seething as he mockingly said, “I do not even keep my key on my person, you fools, and they are in my chambers. Go find a key and open the damn door!”
Jumping to do as he asked, the two guards scramble down the hallway in search of an extra key.
“Unbelievable,” Malik murmured to himself as he leaned against one side of the door.
Knowing that sound could travel through the keyhole, Malik leaned in close and growled loudly, “Samara? Open the door, at once.”
No response came and Malik slammed a fist into the door, his temper rising at being barred entrance into his own chambers. Behind him, he could hear the sound of the guards returning, this time with a confused and tired looking Imad. The older man pulled a key ring from his pants pocket. The ring was full of keys and Malik watched impressed as the older man deftly pulled one specific brass key out of the mix.
“I do apologize, your Highness. I gave the orders for your new wife to have a key, just as you do. I had no idea she would think to lock the doors. Please forgive me,” Imad murmured as he quickly unlocked the doors.
Ignoring the man’s apologies, Malik nodded and glared at the guards. “Patrol the hallway. Thank you, Imad. I shall speak with you in the morning.”
Entering the now unlocked chamber and closing the door with a slam, Malik scanned the front sitting area of his chambers. Along the back wall were archeways that led to his private balcony and gardens. To the left of the ornate chambers were a private study and library area and to the right were the bedchambers. Marching to the bedchamber, Malik stared in shock at the empty four post bed. While Samara’s wedding dress laid haphazardly over the vanity chair in the corner, there was no other mention of her presence.
“Samara?” Malik called when she did not appear before him. Malik grew worried that his little wife had run away or, worse, been taken. Batra’s enemies were few and far between, but that did not make them any less dangerous. In his mind, he saw his brother being assassinated all over again. It was too much to bare.
“Samara? Answer me, angel!” Malik called again.
No answer. As he marched into the bathroom and found no sign of his wife, Malik’s blood began to freeze in his veins. What if something has indeed happened to her?
A low whine distracted Malik and he turned to see his dog, Ayo, standing on the balcony archway staring at him with big black eyes. His thin, muscular body wiggled a tad as Malik took a step closer. As if it were all a game, Ayo, who was still a puppy by many standards, turned and darted out onto the balcony. The smart dog made sure to stop and look behind him when Malik did not immediately follow.
Following after him, Malik was shocked as the fast dog led him into the private gardens and stopped before a lone figure who sat curled up on a soft bench that stood against the corner of the palace walls.
Samara.
Patting Ayo’s head and whispering what a good boy he was, Malik stepped closer to his sleeping wife. Instead of wearing some form of lingerie as most women wore on their wedding night, Samara was dressed in a long, flowy, white night dress that fell to her toes and had long wing like sleeves.
She didn’t even stir when Malik brushed a lock of her long hair out of her face. Her hair was no longer braided and intricately designed down her back. Instead, her dark tresses had been brushed out and ran down her back in little waves. Her face was serene as she slept, though her lips pouted a tad as if in concentration.
She is an angel, Malik thought inwardly.
A soft breeze blew all around them and before Malik could even think his actions through, he had leaned over and picked up the small woman in his arms. Safely cocooned in them, Malik stared down at his wife. She stirred slightly, but only to bury herself deeper into his arms and let out a soft sigh. That lone sigh sent blood straight to his already engorged cock.
Damn woman and her enticing wiles.
As he entered their bedchambers once more and pulled back the covers, placing her on one side, Malik felt himself being hit with deja vu. Like the next morning in the cabin, Samara was reluctant to let him go while she slept. Sighing, Malik attempted to shed his clothes as best he could while she lay wrapped around him.
Now left in just his boxers, Malik pulled back the remaining covers and found himself joined in bed with his cuddly wife. As soon as they had settled in the cool sheets, she pressed herself further against him and sighed a happy sigh. Running his fingers through her soft curls, Malik stared down at his beautiful wife.
One year wouldn’t be so bad? Would it?
Samara had never felt so comfortable in all her life. How could a bench in Malik’s private gardens feel so warm and soft? As Samara’s eyes blinked and pushed the sleep away, she stared blearily over the dark surroundings.
When she had first been brought to Malik’s chambers, the silent maid had helped her get situated out of her wedding dress. The moment Samara saw herself in her wedding lingerie she had immediately felt sick. Throwing it in the back of her closet, Samara had swiftly changed into a cotton night dress. That should keep Malik away.
Out of curiosity and not at all tired, even though she’d told Malik she was, Samara began to explore the chambers. Upon entering, you were immediately greeted by a large sitting room. The wall facing outside had two archways and between them was a large fireplace with an equally impressive TV overtop. Probably so that the Sheik of Batra wouldn’t miss any of the world's top news reports.
To the left of the sitting room, Samara found a small study with tall bookcases encasing the desk and computer. It was simple and yet, made for Malik, especially if he wished for privacy. To the right had been their bedchambers. The bed was big enough for two, and perhaps even a few more people, but Samara cringed at the sight of it and what it would mean. Before the maid had left, she’d given Samara a key. Once the maid departed, Samara had swiftly locked the door, nervous about the two guards who remained o
utside the oak doors.
The maid had even introduced Samara to Malik’s dog, Ayo, an Arabian Greyhound or Sloughi as the locals called them. He was beautiful with his sleek body and face. His sandy colored fur and long flowy tail whipped about as Samara introduced herself to him and he let her pet him. He’d even licked her hand, much to the maid’s surprise. Samara assumed, like his owner, the dog’s bark was worse than his bite.
She wasn’t used to such extravagance and attention. But she did thoroughly enjoy Malik’s private balcony and gardens. Even in the setting sun, she’d been able to view the beautiful flowers and plants that grew there. Finally, she’d found herself sitting on a bench in the corner of the gardens and her eyes began to droop as she listened to the night time sounds of birds and bugs buzzing around freely.
That was what was wrong when Samara woke. There were no sounds of birds or bugs. Even Ayo’s soft breathing was faint. Samara felt herself beginning to rise and fall, with the sound of a heart and breaths moving in sleepy coincidence.
Holding in her gasp or scream, Samara slowly shifted and realized she was no longer sleeping on the garden bench, but instead found herself in Malik’s bed. Worst of all, she was in Malik’s arms in his bed.
Samara tried to break free of his hold, but her squirming only seemed to make him release a grunting noise and hold her tighter. Panicked that he might wake up and wish to begin their wedding night celebrations, Samara stilled in her movements and stared at the handsome Sheik. Her husband.
The fact that he was her husband after such a short time should have shook Samara to her very core, but deep within her, she felt right in his arms in a way. Perhaps he hadn’t married her for her body after that night and for her grandfather’s companies. Maybe he did in fact love her? With that thought, Samara felt herself drifting off to sleep, his handsome face the pillar of her dreams.
12
Samara knew this had to be a dream. There was no way that it could be real. She and Malik were back in the cabin. He had her pressed up against the cabin wall and was filling her full of his hard shaft. Thrusting in and out was all Samara could feel and when she tried to pull his face in for a kiss, Malik did the unexpected.
He licked her. From her chin to her forehead.
It was then that she woke up and came face to face with Ayo, Malik’s dog. Flushed with embarrassment at the moist feeling between her legs, Samara sat up in bed and her heart sank at the realization that she was alone. Pressing a hand to Malik’s side of the bed, she felt the cold, soft sheets caress her fingers and sighed.
Is this married life? Waking up and finding yourself alone? It seems like just a regular day.
Movement to her left caused Samara to jump in the bed and clutch her sheets tightly to her chest. A young maid squealed as she exited the bathroom, seeming shocked to see Samara up in bed staring shocked back at her.
Wincing at how she must appear to the new woman, Samara smiled and slid from the bed, pushing Ayo aside as the dog whined for attention.
“Good morning. I’m sorry for scaring you,” Samara murmured as she stood and clasped her hands in front of her.
“It is alright, your Highness, let me help you prepare for breakfast,” the young girl smiled back and scurried around the room, pulling a soft robe from the closet and motioning for Samara to enter the bathroom first.
Blushing, Samara marched into the bathroom with her head held high. She wasn’t used to such pampering. While at her grandfather's home there had been servants, but no one had assisted her in bathing or dressing since she was a child. She didn’t want the young girl to lose her job or worse embarrass Malik.
As her pampering continued, she learned much from the maid, Caliyah. The Sheik, Malik, had already risen for his morning training session with a few of his top security officers and then he would attend meetings before breakfast. Caliyah had hinted that she hadn’t expected Samara to wake so soon, especially after one’s wedding night.
While Caliyah carefully braided back Samara’s hair, the young girl giggled. “Most royals sleep till noon, at least the ones who have visited do.”
Samara laughed along with the girl. “I like being up with the sun. Perhaps I’ll have to start going for runs in the early morning as I did in London.”
Behind her, Samara watched as the young maid paused and stared at Samara in the mirror. “I don’t think the Sheik would approve of your running around Batra, your Highness, but the Sheik does keep a very excellent exercise room. After breakfast, I can give you a tour of the entire palace.”
Realizing her mistake, Samara’s heart sank. “Thank you. I guess I never thought about what marrying Malik would entail. I never realized I would be losing such freedoms.”
Caliyah sighed dreamily behind her. “But you gain such a handsome and romantic husband. I would give anything for a man such as the Sheik who took one look at me and wished to marry me on the spot.”
Remembering the news and social media stories about their rushed wedding, Samara blushed. There had even been speculations about whether she was pregnant. Shaking her head, Samara thought with mirth, One would have to have sex to become pregnant, silly.
But Malik and Samara had had sex. The night of the gala. Touching her stomach lightly, Samara prayed her birth control shot was effective that night. She couldn’t bare the thought of bringing an innocent life into their loveless, twisted and convoluted marriage.
Shaking away those thoughts, Samara thanked Caliyah as the girl helped her pick out a simple, but elegant top that left her shoulders bare and the straps sat snuggly around her upper arms. Comfy in her dark skinny jeans and pair of thong sandals, Samara felt like her old self, even if the weight of her wedding ring was a constant reminder of her situation.
She wore no other jewelry. What was the point? She was only going to breakfast. It wasn’t like she was attending a high society event, right?
Wrong.
When Caliyah escorted Samara out of Malik’s chambers and down the halls until they came across the royal family's private dining hall, Samara froze in the doorway. All of the men except for the male children were wearing suits and the women wore pretty sun dresses that looked to be designed by some of the top designers in the world. Malik sat at the head of the table reading a newspaper, while a woman around Samara’s age batted her eyelashes at him and tried to gain his attention.
Red hot jealousy bubbled in Samara’s stomach as she watched the young woman flirt with Malik, who seemed to laugh at something she said while his eyes continued to dart from his newspaper and then back at the young woman. Samara vaguely recalled this woman being at the wedding and had even endured the woman’s simpering and veiled backhanded comments during the welcoming after the ceremony. The woman had already ruined her mood, she wasn’t going to ruin Samara’s breakfast as well. Not happening.
The woman’s platinum blonde hair, tanned skin, perfect nails and figure hugging dress were enough to make Samara feel as though she were nothing but a pauper. Clenching her fists, Samara ignored Caliyah when the young girl attempted to point out the only other available seat at the opposite end of the table.
So not happening.
Gritting her teeth, Samara pinched herself and forced a smile on her face as she walked over to Malik. Taking her new husband by surprise, Samara leaned down, interrupting the blonde’s story that held Malik’s attention. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Samara pulled Malik’s face toward hers and planted a kiss on his lips. It could have been hours that she held him there, but from the sounds of the irritated huff from the blonde and the squeals of disgust from the children at the table, Samara inwardly grinned at the realization that it had only been a few seconds.
Pulling back, Samara breathlessly grinned at Malik’s stunned face. “Good morning, baby. Thank you for letting me sleep in. I didn’t realize how much I needed it after last night.”
Sliding away as quickly as she had appeared, Samara turned to face the blonde woman who sat in Samara’s chair, complet
ely shocked.
Smiling sweetly at the woman, Samara cocked her head. “Thank you for warming my seat.”
Her words hit home as the woman glared up at Samara and huffed before pushing back her chair and marched down the long table to the only other empty seat. Smirking, Samara waited until the woman had seated before taking her seat. As if reading her mind, servants appeared and placed a clean plate, cutlery and a cup of hot tea in front of her.
Thanking each of the servants, Samara finally glanced at Malik who sat back in his chair, staring at her with his icy blue eyes. His crooked grin was back as he scanned her from head to toe, as if he could see her very soul.
“Something on my face, Malik?” Samara asked innocently as she took some food off one of the platters before her and set them on her plate.
“Perfection as always, angel,” Malik crooned and turned his eyes back on his paper.
The others at the table, having witnessed what went on with Samara and the young blonde, all turned back to their plates and conversation. Some of Malik’s cousins were at the table, including Leelah who waved at her from the other side of the table. Smiling, Samara waved back at the little girl and twitched her nose in a funny face earning the child's laughter.
Malik’s uncle, Artis, sat opposite Samara on Malik’s other side and smiled genuinely at her.
“I trust you are enjoying palace life so far, Samara?” Uncle Artis queried softly as he ate his hard boiled eggs.
Smiling back, Samara nodded, “It is a little different than I am used to, but I can adapt.”
Uncle Artis nodded solemnly. “You must, my dear, there is much to learn and it can be quite overwhelming at first. Especially for one who has not been born into this life.”
Malik interrupted with a grunt as he turned a hard glare on his uncle. “Samara is smart, Uncle, she will be fine. Worry over your own wife.”
If Uncle Artis was fazed by Malik’s rude words, he didn’t show it and instead chuckled good-naturedly before turning back to Samara. “Don’t mind him, Samara, he is a bear in the mornings unless he drinks an entire barrel of coffee.”
