Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 31800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
I allow her to create a small space between us, though I keep my hands on her waist. She doesn’t try to escape entirely, which tells me everything I need to know.
“I want you to marry me, and you will.”
“But—”
I simply let my gaze drift to where photos of her grandmother’s bakery are, and her face pales.
“You’re r-really serious about this?”
“I am not the type to waste my time with jokes.”
“Then...what if...can we—” She stops, visibly collecting herself. “Can we start with an engagement? In case I change your mind—”
I raise an eyebrow, seeing right through her transparent attempt at manipulation. She wants time to convince me to “stop this madness,” as she’d probably call it.
She flushes deeper, hastily correcting herself. “I mean, in case you change your mind. Because, you know, you’re a royal sheikh and I’m a... not-royal, not-sheikh kind of person, and you might wake up tomorrow and think, what was I thinking?”
She’s rambling, and while she obviously hates that she is, I find it rather...cute. A woman who crafts words for a living, and yet here she is, made incoherent by my touch.
“W-Would you be willing to consider it?”
I suppose I could. It changes nothing in any case, which she’ll soon learn for herself.
“How long do you intend us to be engaged?”
“Three years?”
“Three months.”
“But—”
“I changed my mind,” I drawl. “Three weeks would be better.”
She opens her mouth, I raise an eyebrow, and wise girl that my Scarlette is, she closes her mouth instead...and with this, she’s saved herself from a three-day engagement.
“Are we in agreement then?”
“I...yes, but—” She looks at me warily. “The bakery?”
“Will remain exactly as it is.” I stroke my thumb across her lower lip, still swollen from my kiss, and while she jumps at my touch, she doesn’t pull away.
Wise, wise girl.
It seems she’s figured out that any outright resistance would only have her devoured sooner than she’s ready...and more thoroughly, too.
“Your grandmother can stay as long as she wishes,” I murmur by way of reward. “I’ll even renovate, if that’s what you want.”
She shakes her head, but this...
Seeing this suddenly makes my chest tighten...because I am suddenly besieged by doubts.
Was this real...or was this how Shannen had once enslaved the king?
When they first met, had Shannen pretended to be sweet and innocent...just like Scarlette?
Will she just be my wife...or will she be my future downfall as well?
Blue-gray eyes meet mine, but this time, I deliberately steel myself against the uncertainty and fear clouding her gaze.
“Why are you doing this? Why me?”
Because you’re the first woman who’s made me feel anything in years.
Because you look at me without calculation or agenda.
Because when I kiss you, the world narrows to just this moment, just this feeling.
But I can’t say any of that.
Won’t.
“I already told you why.”
“Just because you want me?”
“Yes.”
She swallows hard, the movement drawing my attention to the delicate line of her throat. “And after three months?”
I smile, knowing it doesn’t reach my eyes. “We’ll discuss that when the time comes.”
Lykan
“Liquidate the assets and fire everyone.”
I end the call without waiting for a response. The board had two years to turn the company around. They failed. Now their three thousand employees will pay the price for that incompetence.
Is it harsh? Yes.
Is it necessary? Also yes.
Business isn’t charity. It’s war, and I’ve never lost a battle.
A notification flashes on my phone: stock prices already dropping on rumors of the acquisition. By Monday, I’ll buy back controlling interest at half the price. By next quarter, after restructuring, the company will be worth triple its current valuation.
It’s almost too easy. Predictable. Boring.
I tuck my phone away and return my attention to the small bakery across the street. Through the large front window, I can see her.
My fiancée.
Even in my thoughts, the term still feels foreign...but in a good way.
She sits at a corner table, her auburn hair catching the morning light streaming through the window. She’s laughing at something, her head tilted back, completely unaware that I’m watching her from the tinted window of my limousine.
Like a stalker.
I almost laugh at the absurdity of it.
Sheikh Lykan Qahiri, CEO, investor, heir to the throne of Sharasa, reduced to lurking outside a small-town bakery because I can’t seem to stay away from a woman I’ve known for less than three days.
This isn’t like me.
None of this is like me.
I’m a man of strategy, of careful calculation. I don’t act on impulse. I don’t make decisions based on want rather than necessity.
And yet here I am.
Every instinct my father drilled into me screams that this is dangerous. Women who make you forget yourself are the most dangerous kind. Wasn’t that the lesson of his life? A king who became a puppet because he couldn’t resist a beautiful face and a seductive laugh.
I should drive away. Go back to Manhattan. Forget the bakery, forget the fiasco of an engagement, forget her.