Dirty Wild Sultan 18+ A Steamy Marriage of Convenience Royal Romance

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Nasrin

I held my breath when the smoke of the hookah flew past me, the old Sheikh and my father, Hamid Elbaz, who was the old Sultan of Maahnoor, laughing together.

The stench of the old smoke overpowered the musky jasmine perfume I had donned moments ago. I wanted to leave. My body coiling tightly, my spine straight and tense, I felt sick. Swallowing, I tried to control the bile in my throat that was threatening to pour out.

Seeing what I had for lunch would hopefully make him disgusted enough to take back his offer of proposal.

"How old did you say she is again?" The old Sheikh hoarsely asked, coughing as he rested his palm on his belly. His two wives were seated beside him, a veil covering their faces as they sat frozen.

I pitied them. I truly did. Because if my father dared to accept the proposal of the Sheikh, I would do anything to not end up like them.

"I am twenty-six," I said, meeting his stare and not daring to look away even when his eyes glazed, looking at me. My body.

Sheikh grumbled, "That's not too young, is it? But she looks old enough to be my daughter, so that's—"

Imran Elbaz, my younger brother, cleared his throat, gaining his attention. I sighed in relief when he asked him a question regarding his city. Sadiq Elbaz, my eldest brother and the current Sultan of Maahnoor, shook his head at us, his eyes sharp and cold.

I looked away, feeling helpless and sad. I hated the feeling. I wished my mother were with me, holding my hand and telling my father to reject the Sheikh's offer. That I deserved better than the sixty-something old sheikh who was only interested in my body. But cancer had taken her away from me when I was nine. She would never be back.

A small part of my cheerful brothers left with her, and the father who used to smile at me, who'd bring me a jasmine flower every morning.

It took her so far that I was alone in the palace that was supposed to be my home, but never felt like it. My sanctuary, surrounded by the people who didn't feel like my family anymore. I missed my brothers, my father, and especially my mother.

"I would need to talk to my daughter before we accept the proposal," my father said, giving me a forced smile, but I won't meet his eyes. He knew I would rather rot than marry the Sheikh.

"I have heard she has rejected every proposal for marriage," the old Sheikh replied, scoffing at me. "So proud at her age, don't you think?"

I wondered how sharp the edge of the fruit knife was. How would it feel to hear him squeal with fear if I held it against his neck?

Clenching my hands, I thought about my mother, my master's degree that was laying on my dresser, my future of working with animals and helping them.

"I am not accepting your marriage proposal." Standing up, I stared down at the Sheikh, his guards taking a step closer. "I have heard that you still take dowries from your wife's family. That is illegal, isn't it?" I enjoyed the way color leached from his face. I smiled. "Don't make me file a complaint towards you to the council, Sheikh. I have heard that they publicly execute the people who still follow that practice."

"Nasrin Elba—"

My father's shout was muffled as I grinned, walking out of the study, my body lighter than before, my muscles relaxing. The citrus scent was tinged in the air, sunlight streaming through the dusky pillars of the old palace. I wished my father or brother would take better care of it. The paint was fading and the once beautiful intricate designs were getting covered in dust.