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

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Zain

My head was throbbing as I stepped inside the club. The guards kept their distance, but they followed me, doubling the protection around the club and the enormous expanse of the three floors. We owned several of the clubs and hotels in Azmia, especially the most popular in our capital, which celebrities used to party and forget about themselves without the fear of paparazzi.

My pace was steady, annoyance from the meeting with the twin princesses filling my steps as I made my way to the second floor. Red, blue, yellow and green neon lights danced through the dark walls covered in thin velvet fabric. People laughed, danced and made out against the obsidian pillars, the bartenders fulfilling the orders, our guards making sure everything went smoothly with no incident. I eyed the dance stage. People donned various dress shirts and short dresses dancing with their hands above their head, swaying to the upbeat music played by the DJ.

I felt envious, wishing I could go down and mingle with the crowd. Get drunk and dance and have a headache from the hangover, not from the stress of ruling the country, making sure I was the best every day.

Women giggled as they brushed past me, eyeing me. Color slashed my cheeks as I cleared my throat and climbed the stairs to reach the VIP floor. The bodyguard let me pass, my eyes taking in the circular tables, blood-colored couches, the exotic scent of the air.

"Well, well, well, look who showed up," Zayed whistled, his grin widening and dimples appearing in his cheeks. The blonde who was on his lap, kissing his neck moments ago, stood up when he whispered something in her ear. Her cheeks flushed when she walked past me, closing the door of the only private room on the VIP floor.

Only royals were allowed here. Me, Khalid, Zara, and our closest friend, the Sheikh of Azmia, Zayed.

"Where's Khalid?" I asked, sitting down and pouring myself a glass of whiskey.

Zayed kept grinning, and I rolled my eyes, swallowing the contents of the glass, the alcohol burning my throat. He was a year younger than me, similar to Khalid, so it was no wonder they were best mates. His dark curly hair fell over his forehead, charm exuding out of every pore of his tanned skin, his easygoing smile making both men and women envy him.

"He knew you'd come here," he said, clinking the bottle of champagne with my empty glass and drinking straight from it.

"So you knew about the princesses?"

"Of course, it was my plan after all." He gave me his shit-eating grin again and raised his brow. "So? What happened? Did you get laid, Your Highness?"

I gave him a deadpanned look.

Zayed pouted. "And here I thought you would like those princesses. Would you prefer a prince instead? I know a few." His eyes twinkled at his own suggestion.

I looked away. Leave Zayed to know which princesses and princes were better in bed. "I am not into any of them. You know I am heterosexual. Quit being an ass."

"And asexual by the way you reacted towards those twins."

"How do you know that?" I asked, frowning.

He shrugged, "They told me. They were here moments ago with Khalid—"

"I don't want to hear about it," I interrupted him. "And there's nothing wrong with me being asexual. If I was asexual, that is."

Before Zayed could reply, the door of the private room opened, and I saw my brother, red smeared over his neck and the collar of his shirt as he tried to fix his hair.