Page 13 of Filthy Hot Prince

Why am I smiling so much?My cheeks hurt, and I wanted to press my cold hands on my face to calm them down.

Khalid

I pulled a chair for her, her subtle feminine perfume wafting in my nose as she sat down, gripping the edge of the table. I tried not to take a whiff of her silky copper hair, which smelt like roses. I had to control myself and not creep her out.

“Can you please bring water for me? Thank you,” Valeria said to the waiter with a warm smile that had his ears turn pink. He poured me a glass of the expensive white wine that I had ordered and excused himself to bring her water.

“You don’t drink wine?”

Her eyes flickered in my direction as she removed the glasses. “No, I don’t like alcohol.”

I swallowed a big gulp. She was my complete opposite.

I could barely take my eyes off of her. They had given her the menu in Braille, the soft pads of her fingers running across it.

My right hand still felt tingles from before. Her hand was smaller than mine and I had to force my eyes on the stairs when she had traced my fingers. I knew she did it mindlessly, but it felt intimate to me. Almost erotic for her to caress my fingers like that.

I wondered how it would feel if she caressed a different,harderpart of my anatomy. For the umpteenth time, I had to shuffle in the confines of my pants, remembering her soft touch.

This was a new low for me. Getting turned on by holding hands.

After giving our orders, Valeria looked at me, her voice shy. “I have something for you.”

I watched as she leaned down to open her handbag and pull out a big wooden box with a small red bow.

“This is for not being able to meet you yesterday. I hope these are the ones you like. I didn’t know which one to choose from. I can barely draw a straight stick figure so I apologize beforehand if you don’t like them. So,um, let me know which one to get—”

I took the box from her before she could lose her breath. “Thank you very much, Valeria. But you don’t need to do this for having a medical emergency. I should be the one to get you something.”

She gave me a slow nod, her lips pursed together as she waited expectantly for my reaction. I didn’t want to make her wait and opened the box. My eyes widened when I saw the expensive oil paints in a wooden carved box from a very luxurious brand. It must have cost a pretty penny to gift me this.

“Thank you, Valeria,” I said, my voice a husky whisper as I awed at the colors. I couldn’t wait to try them and feel the texture smoothen underneath the pressure of the paintbrush. “The colors look so vibrant and rich, I can’t wait to paint using them. It’s very thoughtful of you.”

If it was even possible, her cheeks reddened further, a gorgeous smile curving her lips. “You’re welcome, I am glad you like them.”

We were interrupted when the server brought our food. I didn’t tell her that everything cooked was tested healthy and without any poison by my royal taster. My family and I decided that it was a risk to ignore the event of last year when Nasrin, my brother’s wife, was almost poisoned by the food cooked for her.

I watched in awe how easily she maneuvered the different types of spoons and forks as if she remembered how and where everything is placed. I was very impressed.

“You seem close to Benjamin,” I said, wanting to know more about the man who was so protective of her.

Valeria nodded. “He and Mabel are my guardians. My parents, you could say, as they took me in growing up. I was dropped on their foster home when I was a baby.”

I took a sharp breath. I could never understand why someone would ever do that.

“If it’s not too much, can I ask what happened to your sight?” I wanted to know if she could see through a fog or darkness.

Zara’s mother, Isabella, was born blind, and she had a foggy vision. I wanted to know if Valeria did, too.

She took a shaky breath, and I knew it was a hard question. “I lost my sight in a car accident when I was eleven. A truck driver ran past the traffic lights, lost his control and it slammed with our car. The couple who had adopted me a year before that didn’t survive. I hit my head and my world went black. I woke up with corneal blindness.”

I clenched the spoon in my hand, cursing at the circumstances, but I knew better than to blame it all on the circumstances.

“Shouldn’t you get new corneas to treat it?” I knew about it because I often visited charities involved with treating disabled children. After death, eye donors donate their eyes and the donated corneas helps the children with corneal blindness get their sight back.

“Of course. But I would rather have children get their sight back than me. I… I wouldn’t know what I would do when and if I get my sight back.”

The server came back with the main course. The air around us tense and heavy. It was a serious subject, but I couldn’t imagine living without sight for a day. I had tried painting covering my eyes, but it was a terrible process. Not knowing which colors I am using, which colors I am mixing, which lines I am stroking on the canvas.

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