Dameer Esfendyar al-Badr, the Crown Prince of the kingdom in exile, has long ago forgotten the rules of royalty.
Too bad Mahin Arsalan is back to remind him of every last one - especially the one that had haunted him for years :
❛ what is a king wit...
THE NIGHT WAS still young but Mahin Arsalan was royally done for the day.
Having walked around in her five-inch stilettos for the past two hours had taken a toll – fingers screaming, sole burning by now. If it had not been for Alara's beseeching eyes standing in her way at her every attempt to leave, Mahin would have long ago left the room.
"I'm already bored, Al." Mahin whispered to her friend, for Allah knows how many times that day, eyes moving across the room filled with people dressed to their absolute finest, conversing about topics that failed to stimulate any cell of interest in her.
"You're not trying to enjoy, M." Alara glared at her as she waved to someone, the smile on her face relaxed and at ease.
Unlike Alara, who always seemed to own these gatherings, Mahin Arsalan never enjoyed being at one. For her, unwinding at home by watching a movie carried more thrill than dressing up for a party; enjoying a cup of coffee at her balcony always pulled her in more than entering a room full of people she hardly even knew.
"Trust me, I couldn't even if I wanted to." Mahin rolled her eyes, beyond drained by now. "And, how could I? The room is filled with artists and designers and models. Not my kind of people."
"You can go hang out with Burak, you know. Save some random girl tonight from getting heartbroken tomorrow morning." Alara said, wiggling her brows in that typical suggestive way that she'd seen her brother do a little too many times.
"Heartbroken?" A voice interrupted from behind – a smooth, silky sound that filled a smile on Mahin's lips as she turned around.
"Burak Bey, busy breaking hearts again?" Mahin said, the crispiness of her tone not dead on her two best friends who threw their heads back in a laugh at her greeting.
