Page 167 of Tall, Royal Hater
Shehryar removed the girl’s hand, pinching her wrist like she was dirty. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be so polite around me,” she said, trying to touch him with her other hand. “Can I call you Sheri, by the way?”
Yeah, no, no. Fuck no.
Forget that she was likely a minor sexually harassing him, that wasmyfucking name for him.
Pushing her back with my forearm, I stepped in front of Shehryar. The brunette stumbled, but quickly righted herself and glared. “Excuse me. You are?”
“Embarrassed for you is what I am,” I said, giving her a big overexaggerated grin. “Because, sweetie, you see, this man behind me”—I thumbed at Shehryar over my shoulder—“ismyboyfriend. And he has no interest in a drooling little child like you who can’t even be nice to someone he cares about.” I nodded to Ablah. “So, why don’t you scurry along and go find the snotty, trust-fund boy your daddy wants you to marry instead of biting your lip like a fucking beaver? Hmm?” I sunk back against Shehryar’s chest, widening my eyes and smile, and he circled his arm around my waist.
Red in the face, the brunette huffed and gaped like a fish. “You’re—you’re a bitch.”
I chuckled, slow and arrogant. “Thank you. That’s such a sweet thing to say.”
Realising she wasn’t going to do any damage, she and her posse gave me up-and-down glares before trudging off in sync. And it was fucking movie quality, I’d give them that.
“I’m your boyfriend?” Shehryar whispered in my ear.
My skin prickled hot and pink as I glanced up at him. “Shut up.”
He flashed me the first real smile since we’d arrived. “You know you can’t take that back now.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling reluctantly. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
His mischievous stare said otherwise, but I turned my attention to Ablah. The young girl gaped in utter awe before clapping her lips together. “That—was awesome.”
I chuckled. “I hope I didn’t make things worse for you.”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. I didn’t actually want to invite them, but Dad said I had to since he does business with their families, and as you saw, they’re really not nice, so what you did was—”
“This must be the other son, huh?”
And along came person number four to interrupt us.
This time, a man, who was pretty much a younger, scruffier replica of Andrew Platmon, but with darker eyes, slimmer shoulders, and a whole lot of bitter ego and misplaced arrogance. He looked younger than me but barely much older than Ablah.
“Johnny, not now,” Ablah grumbled.
Johnny rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “What? Isn’t this why Dad invited him? For us to meet him? Introduce me then.”
He had no respect for his sister, that much was clear, and I instantly disliked him. He was the epitome of a spoilt, small-dicked, trust-fund boy who had yet to actually grow up.
Ablah huffed out a breath and gestured between Johnny and Shehryar. “Shehryar, this is Johnny, my older brother.”
“Hi,” Shehryar said calmly.
His arm around me tensed. Because Johnny Platmon wasn’t looking at him. He was eyeing me up like a disgusting sleazebag, ogling my hips in a way that almost made me shudder.
The hunger in his sardonic stare was sickening when he finally met my gaze. “Dad allowed him to bring a curvytawaifwith him? Why’s that not shocking?”
I didn’t know whattawaifmeant, but going off the reaction of Ablah, the stillness of Shehryar around me, and the context of what he’d said, I was sure he’d called me a whore.
“Johnny,” Ablah snapped. “What on Neves? Why would you say that?”
“Apologise to my girlfriend.Now,” Shehryar uttered, and the cold, hard murder in his voice caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“Oh, girlfriend,” Johnny said with exaggerated realisation and placed his hand on his chest. “Apologies for the mistake, Miss…”
