Chapter Two #2
Noor swept a line of kohl along the bottom lid of both Hana’s eyes.
‘We need this marriage. Especially with the pipeline deal father is negotiating. This,’ Noor said, bending to whisper into her ear, ‘is the least you can do. You owe this family. Don’t mess this up.’
Hana knew better than to flinch. Noor was right. It was her fault that her father lost a wife, that her siblings lost a mother. If it hadn’t been for her, their mother wouldn’t have died.
Noor gave Hana’s chin a not so gentle push and stalked towards the door.
‘Ready?’
‘Yes, sister,’ Hana said, standing from the chair and bracing herself.
Maybe he wouldn’t recognise her. It had been dark in the treatment room. She had been wearing black. Maybe he wouldn’t associate her with the masseuse from yesterday. After all, why would he have taken notice of just another anonymous spa staff member?
Hana held on to that chain of thought as if believing it could make it true.
Noor was right. Her father wanted this for her and needed it for him. And maybe, with this, she could finally prove to them all that she did belong to this family. That she…deserved to be part of it.
She fisted her hands in the skirts where no one could see. She wouldn’t mess it up, she wouldn’t, she said over and over again in her mind. And if she said it enough times then perhaps she’d start to believe it.
With the two ladies-in-waiting behind her and her sister walking in front of her, she entered the grand hall feeling caged by the women around her. And despite all her self-assurances, her heart began to pound and a thin sheen of sweat gathered at her neck.
She kept her gaze lowered, trying to delay the moment where she would be seen, because until that moment, Hana still had hope.
Hope that this could somehow be okay. Her father had gathered her siblings and their spouses, key government officials, old family friends, in order to represent Omrhain in the best possible light.
But all Hana could see was the number of people that she would let down if this all went wrong.
Unable to stop herself, she peeked around Noor’s shoulder, trying to see her fiancé.
It wasn’t hard, as he was the tallest there, and even had he not been, after yesterday she would have been able to recognise him, the breadth of his shoulders, the jut of his jaw, the prominent bridge of his nose.
The way that his thick dark hair brushed his shoulders.
She could have picked him out from a crowd of thousands.
He turned, his gaze finding hers with the speed and accuracy of an arrow.
For a moment there was nothing—not even curiosity.
And then, Hana realised just how badly she had messed up.
Malik thrust aside his impatience and turned to greet his fiancée. They’d been waiting for longer than the five minutes promised by Emir Hafiz, and against his own wishes, Malik had become curious.
He peered at the diamond formation of women approaching him, his gaze sliding off the first woman and the two at the sides to zero in on the woman at the back, with her head lowered.
Despite the intricate detailing on her dress, crystals and gold tabs shimmering beneath the bright lighting of the hall, Malik’s attention was drawn unerringly and immediately to her face.
And even though her hair was covered, and her eyes cast down, and what he could see of her was very little, he already knew before she raised her gaze to find his own that she’d have a small mole at the corner of her left eye.
He knew her. He knew her from last night.
Malik’s swift inhale brought only the attention of his adviser, but thankfully her family had turned to welcome the woman who was dressed in finery fit for a royal wedding…instead of the simple black staff uniform that he had seen her wear only hours ago.
Fury.
It was swift, burning, hotter than the spa’s scalding showers.
There was no moment of doubt, no moment of confusion.
Because the moment she locked eyes with him he saw it all. The guilt, the fear, the shock. All the things he’d never wanted to see in his bride’s face were staring right back at him.
His mind raced. Her father had offered him the gift. Had he known? Had he arranged this? Malik looked at the older man who was smiling indulgently at the viper masquerading as his fiancée, and doubted that the emir would have done something so terribly risky.
Malik turned on the woman who was supposed to be his fiancée.
The woman who had seen him at his most vulnerable.
She had undertaken false pretences in order to spy on him.
Just like Farrah had before she fled her promise, painting Malik as the monster that everyone feared he was to justify her betrayal.
He couldn’t believe it was happening again. He stifled the curse that gripped his throat to the point of agony. The thought burned in his gut. She had seen him…she had touched him. She had touched his scars.
And he—
No. He cut that thought off as he stared up at the woman who he now had absolutely no intention of marrying. He saw her swallow, something like a plea in her eyes, but it was far too little far too late.
Malik had already been betrayed by one fiancée. He had absolutely no intention of letting it happen again.
Al Surrahin needed him to marry—that was clear. But he would not subject his people, or himself, to anyone capable of such perfidy.
‘What game are you playing?’ he demanded of the princess.
The masseuse from last night stopped in her tracks, her mouth parting in shock.
‘I… I… Your Highness?’ his soon-to-be-ex fiancée stammered from several feet away.
‘It’s a simple question. What. Game. Are. You. Playing?’ he repeated, slowly and loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear.
Chancellor Ehsan whimpered beside him. ‘Sir.’
‘I—’ she attempted before her father cut her off.
‘Hana,’ her father growled, while one of her brothers threw his hands in the air and the other turned away in disgust. One of the sisters looked as if she wanted to stamp her feet and the other glared at her in frustration.
‘What did you do?’ she hissed, but Hana said nothing, only stared at him helplessly. Well, she was going to get absolutely no help from him. She had made her bed and she was going to lie in it for all he cared.
From her sister’s accusation, to her father’s reaction, it almost sounded as if her family had expected something like this.
What a tableau they must have made. The Omhrain royal family glaring at their youngest princess, and Ehsan glaring at him.
He took the opportunity to look at her among the chaos. There was a faint blush beneath the rich bronze of her skin. Her hair was covered by a thin golden-flecked veil. But he’d never forget her eyes, the rich, honeyed orbs that he’d fancied himself drowning in.
Yet he’d been fooled. Fooled by a pretty face and a lying touch. No, he hadn’t wanted this marriage, but he would have gone through with it. Would have made the best of it. For his country. But that was before he knew that he couldn’t trust a single thing about her.
And all for what? A sight at his scars? At the monster he was portrayed to be? If she’d thought that, then she should never have agreed to the marriage. She should never have toyed with him or Al Surrahin like this.
He shot a look to the Sheikh of Omrhain.
‘We’re done here. If you want to know why, ask your daughter.’
And with that, Malik turned on his heel and swept from the grand hall, refusing to make eye contact with the woman who had ruined everything.
Oh, Malik knew exactly what he was walking away from.
He knew exactly what his adviser would say.
But nothing, not even the future of Al Surrahin, would force him to marry a woman he couldn’t trust.
He got to the doors to the grand hall, Ehsan on his heels and bracketed his throbbing temples with his hand.
‘I need you to stay behind and do what you can to avoid any further unpleasantness.’
‘Your Highness,’ Ehsan tried. ‘You need to think about this. You can’t just—’
‘I can and I did.’ He shot a glance to the woman who was staring at the ground as if she wanted it to swallow her whole and turned his back on her, hoping to never have to lay eyes on her again.