Sineka had always prided herself on maintaining her composure.
But this—this was something else entirely.
The moment the maids swept into the room, heads politely bowed and hands laden with silk nightgowns, perfumes, and delicate combs, Sineka had prepared herself to endure their usual routine. Fingers adjusting her gown. Brushes smoothing her hair. The faint, familiar scents of lavender and amber clinging to her skin.
Routine. Predictable. Manageable.
But then—
Crocodile kept stripping.
Not subtly.
Not discreetly.
No.
The bastard did it with the same unbothered confidence he carried into every negotiation, as if the concept of modesty was beneath him.
Bare-chested and utterly unapologetic, he strode toward the walk-in closet with slow, deliberate steps, undoing the buckle of his belt as he walked. Each shift of muscle beneath scarred, sun-bronzed skin seemed designed to draw the eye—and Sineka hated how easily her gaze followed him.
Until—
Her mind caught up with the situation.
If any maid glanced up at the wrong moment—
They'd get a full fucking view of his ass.
Her eye twitched.
Absolutely not.
The man could command a criminal empire, but couldn't be bothered to possess a shred of modesty?
Her mouth opened, the command sharp, unapologetic, and immediate:
"Out."
Every maid froze.
Some blinked. Others stiffened, eyes darting between her and the half-naked warlord who continued toward the closet with the same slow, unhurried pace.
Sineka inhaled, regaining her composure in a heartbeat. Her smile curved slowly into place—calm, composed, and utterly in control.
A queen commanding her court.
"I won't be needing you tonight," she purred, each word laced with deliberate amusement, rich and honey-smooth. She tilted her head, cinnamon hair spilling over one shoulder as her eyes gleamed with something sharp and dangerous. "I'm sure my soon-to-be husband will be more than happy to prepare me."
The sharp inhale of a maid broke the silence.
Followed swiftly by the stifled giggle of another.
Sineka could see the effort it took for them to maintain their composure, the air crackling with unsaid whispers and barely contained amusement. But she didn't look at them.
She looked at him.
And oh—
Crocodile stopped.
Mid-step. Mid-motion. As if someone had just played a move he hadn't expected.
Sineka watched the moment settle over him, slow and deliberate. The faint tilt of his head. The pause in his shoulders. A shift—barely perceptible, but unmistakable.
She had surprised him.
Not just that—she had challenged him.
And damn, she had enjoyed it.
YOU ARE READING
A Bride for the Desert King | Crocodile
Fanfiction"Marry me," she commanded, almost. Crocodile narrowed his eyes at the impertinence of the woman who stood in front of him. "Ara," he heard Ms All Sunday mutter amusedly. "Who are you?" "Sineka Duskblade," she replied.
