Chapter 4
When I see that perfectly round, perky ass rolling in a damn sexy rhythm on top of the table, I know I’ve found my company for the night.
This week has been hell because of problems at my distillery.
We have a new brand on the way, made from grain whisky, in an attempt to make the drink more accessible.
I want people who aren’t so privileged to have access to it, considering eighty percent of my production is single malt, something only a very select few can afford.
With my mind spinning, as usual where I’m concerned, getting a call from Vicenzzo inviting us to a party on his yacht sounded like paradise. Nowadays, it’s rare to get all of us in the same place.
I was surprised when Kaled said he was bringing his girlfriend, since the concept of “girlfriend,” in the broad sense, is foreign to all of us.
We don’t do long-term relationships, though in my case, I know the clock is ticking. If I want to keep my duchy, I need to find a wife before I turn thirty-seven.
Why that magic age? I think it was some kind of inside joke my grandfather left behind for future generations. Like: if you don’t settle by then, you never will. He married my grandmother one day after turning thirty-seven, so he made that his rule.
My former guardian, Athol, who has become the most constant figure in my life besides my friends, already has some possible candidates lined up, but none of them excite me.
Obviously, it will be a marriage of convenience.
I intend to arrange things so that we’re both satisfied, since I don’t plan on burying myself in one bed for the rest of my life.
The problem is that even in a pretend marriage, where the woman gets nothing from me but my name and the title of duchess, I at least need to admire the person.
The list Athol showed me, with résumés and photographs, didn’t make me the slightest bit eager.
I don’t intend to sleep with my wife, precisely because I want to continue fucking whoever I want, but I’d at least like to be able to hold a five-minute conversation if necessary, and the heiresses he chose have the depth of rain puddles.
I think about my friend who just got engaged. Against all odds, Kaled actually seems happy.
I talked to them when I arrived and greeted his future wife quickly, since they were in the middle of a jealousy fight. A model he once hooked up with showed up at the party, and as much as I enjoy spending time with Kaled, I hate drama.
I think he also said something about his youngest sister being here, pointing out a girl, but I wasn’t paying attention. I’m roaming alone for one purpose: women.
I look again at the beauty on top of the table.
This part of the yacht is dimly lit, so I can’t see much, but someone with an ass like that has to be gorgeous all over.
How the hell can she be that sensual just by rolling her hips? She has long, copper-brown hair and delicate bone structure, but her ass is the kind that makes a man lose his mind.
The night was shaping up to be like so many others—which, in my mood today, wouldn’t be a bad thing—but suddenly, that delicious dancer changed the whole scenario.
I can already imagine grabbing her hips, twisting my fingers in her hair while I fuck her hard from behind.
My dick reacts immediately, pushing painfully against my jeans.
I glance at my watch, calculating how long it’ll take to get her out of here with me. Normally, I’d socialize a bit more with my friends before choosing my company, but something about this woman sparks an unfamiliar urgency in me.
I move toward her like a predator approaching prey. It’s not pretension; it’s fact. I never need much time to get the woman I want. And “want” is the perfect word, because it’s been a long damn while since a woman made me this horny.
I’m close now, and the closer I get, the more perfect she seems.
Until she turns around.
Don’t get me wrong—there’s nothing wrong with her face. Or her tits, God help me. The problem is her as a whole.
It’s Jazmina Faheem.
Kaled’s youngest sister.
The girl I ignored when my friend pointed her out earlier and the one I planned to fuck all night are the same person.
I didn’t know her personally, only from photos, but the ones I saw made her look much younger.
Fuck.
She’s forbidden in bold, capital letters, for enough reasons to fill an encyclopedia.
I feel weird, as if I’ve committed some kind of mental incest. Guilt hits hard.
But it takes only two seconds for desire to drain enough for reality to hit me.
I look around and there’s no sign of her brother, who at this point must be trying to calm Adeela.
I don’t fully understand their culture, but I know Jazmina shouldn’t be dancing, incredibly, dangerously beautiful like that, on top of a table.
Okay, the “beautiful” part isn’t her fault, but dancing on the damn table is.
At least a dozen men are drooling while the clueless princess puts on an involuntary show.
There could be paparazzi anywhere in the marina, and if she’s photographed, it’ll be a scandal in Rheadur and across Europe.
That’s the justification I give myself for acting like a Neanderthal idiot two seconds later.
“Jazmina.”
My tone is never what you’d call gentle, but combined with the irritation of wanting a woman I should see as a little sister, my voice sounds close to thunder.
She was lost in the music and startles, wobbling.
Only then does she seem to realize she has an audience, besides me, obviously.
Because I’m not a hypocrite. Until I realized she was a girl and not a woman—and the wrong girl at that—I wanted her. Naked under me. Moaning my name.
Fuck.
I shove the filthy thoughts down, forcing myself to remember she’s Kaled’s little sister, even if she looks nothing like anyone’s youngest sibling. Despite her delicate build, she’s all woman.
Fuck it, I’m going straight to hell for this.
I watch her scan the group of admirers.
Her cheeks are flushed, which almost moves me. Yes, she’s just a kid, even if reckless.
Then, she finally gathers the courage to look at me.
She knows she’s in trouble, and I get the feeling that if she could, she’d bolt. But she’s proud and lifts her chin as if she can challenge me. Cute.
With my arms crossed and practically at her feet, I stare up at her without hiding my anger.
“Hello, Rodrick,” she says, as if we sit together drinking whisky every day.
As if this isn’t the first time we’ve met in person.
Of course she knows who I am. Even if I’ve never been to Rheadur, Kaled and I appear together in tabloids all the time.
“Hello, princess,” I reply. “Are you coming down willingly, or is your loyal subject here going to have to throw you over his shoulder in front of everyone?”
She tries to look offended, but I see the worry in her eyes as she glances around, probably looking for my friend. “You won’t get a second warning, Jazmina.”
“I’m not your sister. You don’t need to look after me,” she says, recovering quickly from the embarrassment of being caught doing something she shouldn’t. “Besides, you wouldn’t dare touch me. In Rheadur—”
And that’s it. One sassy sentence, and my temper flares.
I know some guests are watching, but I don’t give a damn.
“Too bad for you we’re not in Rheadur, Princess Jazmina,” I say, taking a step forward.
“Don’t you dare!”
In a quick movement, I grab the rebel and toss her over my shoulder. While she kicks and struggles, I need every ounce of self-control not to slap her ass.
“I’m barefoot, you brute! How is it possible to meet you in person and already hate you?”
“Go back and grab her sandals,” I tell one of my security men, ignoring her threats and curses.
One of our friends is definitely going to let Kaled know I took her.
“This is kidnapping! Where are we going?” she yells, pounding her fists against my back.
“Jazmina, stay quiet, god . . . darn it!” I correct myself quickly, because I don’t want her fainting if she hears me swear.
She stops moving, and we manage to walk in silence until we reach my car parked away from curious eyes. The driver opens the door as soon as he sees us.
I set her in the back seat and buckle her in before taking my place beside her.
“You’re in Paris with Kaled?”
She nods.
“To the heliport,” I say to the driver.
“I don’t want to leave yet!”
I don’t look at her. I’m too pissed, and I can’t even pinpoint the exact reason, though I have a clue. “Let’s make this easier for both of us: I’m taking you back to Paris before your actions get you in trouble with your father and your people.”
That finally shuts her up, thank God, because even though I now know who she is, it hasn’t reduced my desire one inch.
I spend the entire time on the way to the helicopter and during the flight in silence, and through my peripheral vision, I see she’s fallen asleep. Thank God.
My reaction to the green-eyed beauty beside me takes me by surprise. The best thing I can do is keep miles of distance between us.
Little do I know that fate has plans for me—several, actually.