•••
"In your arms, I am both safe and ruined, and I cannot tell which I crave more."
•••
As Aamirah stepped into the dining area, she found Osman seated at the head of the table, engaged in conversation with Salem, who stood respectfully behind him.
The moment Salem noticed her, he greeted her politely before excusing himself. Aamirah returned his greeting with a warm smile, unaware that Osman’s sharp eyes were fixed on her, darkening slightly at the way she smiled at his second-in-command.
He knew there could never be anything between Aamirah and Salem—Salem was far too loyal, and Aamirah was far too innocent—but still, an inexplicable irritation simmered within him at the sight of her smiling at another man.
He couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much, but something had undeniably shifted between them over the past few weeks. She was no longer just a reluctant wife bound to him by circumstance.
There was something about her now—an unspoken pull—that he couldn’t ignore, even if he refused to admit it to himself.
“You’re up early,” he commented, his tone neutral, though his gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
“I heard the staff,” Aamirah replied softly, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “Your grandmother and aunt are arriving?”
He nodded, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. “Yes. They’ll be staying here for a few days.”
Her unease must have been visible because Osman’s gaze hardened slightly. “Is that a problem?”
She shook her head quickly, though her fingers twisted the hem of her sleeve. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t sure how to prepare. Your grandmother—” She hesitated, then continued cautiously, “She wasn’t exactly welcoming before she left.”
Osman leaned back in his chair, studying her. “My grandmother doesn’t waste her energy on pleasantries, but she’s not unreasonable. As for Aaliyah…”
His jaw tightened briefly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “She’s sharp-tongued, but you don’t need to concern yourself with her opinions. Just dont mind her words.”
Aamirah wasn’t sure if his words were meant to reassure her or simply to dismiss her concerns, but she nodded anyway.
She had noticed that he genuinely respected his grandfather only—an exception in a world where everyone else seemed to be little more than a façade for appearances.
He rarely spoke about his parents, and while she knew his mother had passed away, his father remained a mystery. She had never met him, nor had he ever mentioned him.
It was clear that he wasn’t the kind of man to offer respect simply because of blood ties; for him, it had to be earned.
As the clock ticked closer to the hour of their arrival, the tension in the mansion seemed to thicken.
The staff worked tirelessly to ensure everything was perfect—fresh flowers adorned the sitting room, the finest tea sets were laid out, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine from the incense burning in the hallways.
Aamirah stood in the entryway, nervously smoothing the folds of her modest dress. Her heart raced as the sound of approaching carriages reached her ears.
Osman joined her, his imposing presence grounding her in the moment. He glanced at her briefly, his hand brushing against her arm in a gesture so fleeting she almost thought she imagined it.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Storie d'amore••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
