Chapter 27
“Why do I get the feeling everyone’s looking at me?” she whispers as we make our way toward the birthday host, Vicenzzo.
“You don’t understand why?”
She shakes her head.
“You’re beautiful at any hour of the day or night, Adeela, but in that dress, you’re devastating.” My hand stays firm on her hip, fingers gripping her possessively. The fabric covering her delicious body is so thin I can feel the outline of her lingerie.
I find myself wondering what color it is.
It doesn’t matter. I know that if I could see her wearing nothing but underwear, she wouldn’t be wearing it for long.
When I went to her room to tell her it was time to leave, I’d intended to behave as I had since the incident at the boutique, to keep a safe distance. For her sake, mainly.
It’s torture holding back.
Being beside her tests every ounce of my self-control.
I’m not a boy. I’ve been with women since I was very young, and I thought I knew everything there was to know about sex, but from the first time I touched Adeela, it was as if an entirely new world opened up before me.
The desire she stirs in me isn’t just about needing her body; it’s about knowing her, learning her most secret cravings.
I want to understand the difference between her moans when I’m inside her, to hear her whisper for me to go slower, faster, begging for release.
But I also know she’s inexperienced, raised to stay pure until marriage. So even though the temptation to push her limits is nearly unbearable, I won’t cross the line. I refuse to hurt her by betraying the values she holds dear.
“You’ve been with beautiful women before,” she says, a little awkwardly.
Before I can answer, Jazmina walks over with a bright smile. “You two look like a couple straight out of a movie.”
Adeela, who had been tense, relaxes instantly with my sister’s arrival.
“I thought your name was long, brother, but even if I tried my hardest, I’d never remember the full name of tonight’s birthday prince. I’m sticking with the first and the last—Vicenzzo Lucchese.”
I laugh, amused at her exaggeration because in truth, Vicenzzo only has one more name than I do.
“Why have you never brought me to a party like this before?” she pouts.
“Because you were underage.”
“Only that? Or were you just trying to keep me away from your flings?”
My body stiffens, partly because of her inappropriate comment, but also because she’s closer to the truth than she knows. The day they arrived in Paris, I was still trying to get rid of Ingrid.
Jazmina goes pale and looks immediately regretful. “Adeela, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s fine,” Adeela says calmly, trying to sound unaffected, though I know she’s not. “It’s no secret your brother wasn’t exactly living like a monk before we got engaged. Excuse me, I need the restroom.”
“I’ll go with you,” my sister offers quickly, hurrying after her friend.
“Trouble in paradise?” Rodrick[32] asks, stepping up beside me.
When I arrived, I introduced Adeela and Jazmina to everyone, since the only one who’d met my sister in person was Abdar.
As much as I love these men, I don’t like my sister being too close to them. And that’s exactly why I’m uneasy about what I need to ask this particular friend.
“My past debauchery coming back to haunt me,” I mutter.
When Adeela agreed to marry me, I made a video call to all of them to announce the engagement. I spent ten minutes listening to their jokes because among us, only Abdar and Vicenzzo were expected to marry soon, both for political reasons tied to their countries.
Rodrick grins and raises his glass of whiskey, probably from his own distillery in Scotland. “One thing’s certain: any woman who marries one of us has to learn to live with our past. Or at least pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“There’s no need for her to ‘live with it.’ I’ll never allow anything I did before meeting her to interfere with our relationship. What matters is what comes next.”
“You can’t erase the past.”
“I can control it,” I say flatly.
“If you say so . . . Then you won’t mind your German ex walking over here right now like a woman on a mission.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Remember what I said about living with the past?” he groans. “Your fiancée’s walking this way too. Guess it’s time to test that theory.”
“Hello, Prince.”
Even before turning around, I know that thick, slightly slurred voice, courtesy of too much alcohol, belongs to the German model.
Certain that nothing good can come of this, I try to get rid of her before Adeela gets close. “Good evening, Ingrid. Care to explain what you’re doing here? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”
“That’s because it isn’t,” Vicenzzo says, joining us. “Miss . . . ?”
“Ingrid Meyer,” she manages, though she can barely stand upright.
“Miss Meyer,” he continues politely, “please allow my security team to escort you to the exit. We’ll make sure you get a cab.”
Before she can respond, Adeela and Jazmina reach us, and of course, Ingrid picks that exact moment to make a scene.
“I’m not leaving before I have a little talk with him,” she slurs, pointing at me. “Kaled, how could you end our relationship over the phone? We had such wonderful times together!”
I have a particular disdain for drunk women. Mine, at least, always knew better than to drink too much, at least in my presence. But that isn’t what angers me now. It’s the spectacle she’s making, not for my sake, but because it humiliates Adeela.
“There’s nothing left for us to discuss, Ingrid. We were never in a relationship. We went out twice in one week. That hardly qualifies. So I’ll ask you again to stay away from me.”
Over her shoulder, I catch sight of Adeela turning to leave. I follow her immediately, but like some scene from a bad movie, the deranged model comes stumbling after us.
I don’t care who’s watching anymore. All I want is to shield Adeela from this mess.
“Wait,” I say, catching her arm.
“I want to go home,” she says quietly, though she’s already walked down the stairs leading to the cabins. We’re now in the hallway outside a suite.
“Kaled,” Ingrid calls from behind. I turn, but I don’t let go of Adeela.
I can’t believe the lunatic actually followed us.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn.
I’m not sure if it’s my tone or the look on my face, but Ingrid finally seems to regain a sliver of sanity.
I turn back to the only woman who matters. “We’ll leave whenever you want, but don’t run away like that.”
“I’m not running.”
“No?” I challenge.
She looks past me, toward Ingrid, and I catch the flash of anger in her eyes.
Even though I hate this situation, Adeela can’t afford to back down so easily, not if she wants to survive high society. Not in Europe, and certainly not in Rheadur.
“What do you expect me to do? Roll on the floor with her? Because that’s exactly what I feel like doing.” Her voice doesn’t rise, but I can sense the fire behind it.
“All I expect is for you to remember you’re the only one I want. The woman I’m going to marry.”
“You can’t be serious, Kaled. You’d choose her over me?” Ingrid blurts out, picking the worst possible moment.
To my surprise, Adeela steps forward and even pushes me aside.
“Do you see this ring?” she says, raising her left hand, the diamond glinting in the light.
“He gave it to me a few days ago when he asked me to marry him. Which means he’s taken or, as the celebrity magazines say, officially off the market.
You think you’re crazy? Try coming near my fiancé again, and I’ll show you what crazy really looks like. ”
After her burst of fury, she grabs my hand and pulls me into the suite, slamming the door behind us.