Page 25 of Tall, Royal Hater
“Of course,” the girl chirped. “Pierre just arrived, so he will be able to help you once you get there.”
My brows lifted. “Oh, he has?” I said, and Tris nodded. “Great! Thanks, Tris.”
“No problem, Miss Mariyah.”
“Just Mariyah is cool.”
I turned to follow Shehryar again and found him heading around the corner at the other end of the corridor already. The fucking dickhead didn’t even bother waiting for me!
“Couldn’t you have just told me you were going to the kitchen before I asked Tris?” I said to the back of his head when I caught up.
“You didn’t ask,” he spat back.
I gritted my teeth, unable to argue, and like a pissed off thirteen-year-old boy, stuck my middle finger up at him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t see, it made me feel better, and that was all that mattered.
But the rest of our silent way to the kitchen, it was as if he was trying to get in his cardio before his gym session, stomping ahead so fast that I had to jog a few times to keep up.
Shehryar
My morning workouts usually left me feeling refreshed and level-headed. Other than for my health, that was the whole purpose of exercising. It was my version of yoga—an outlet for my angry temperament so that I had a clear head each day. It helped ready me to do my duty as Esmeralda’s right-hand man, from being her protection to running over presentations with her and more.
But two hours after my workout, I stood in the grand entrance hallway of Chaukham Palace feeling anything but relaxed. In fact, there was a prowling, hissing energy in my veins that had me scrubbing a hand over my beard and shifting on my feet repeatedly.
A small part of it was down to the fact Esmeralda had asked me to attend the day’s plans as her friend and brother, rather than as her bodyguard. I’d downright refused until her expression drooped, making me feel guilty enough to agree to a compromise, which had still in truth felt odd.
But the vast majority of my restlessness was the fucking menace’s fault. Her presence in the gym had ruined everything.
She was also the one Esmeralda, Crown Prince Kai, and I were waiting for in the entranceway, with Gary and Rocco—Prince Kai’s drivers and heads of his security team.
As per Esmeralda’s request, we were headed to the Lyle National Art Gallery, housing famous pieces, and a dead duchess’s mansion that had been turned into a museum furtherin Pavilion City after lunch at a restaurant Prince Kai had reserved.
We hadn’t yet left, and I was already ready to return to the palace. Having to stick close to Esmeralda while still giving her privacy with Prince Kai meant I was no doubt going to end up closer to Mariyah. I wasn’t sure I could survive another mouthful from her without reacting. Badly.
I tried my hardest not to let her get under my skin, but sometimes…fuck, she was just so bloody—
“I found it!” I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes as the fucking brat’s singsong words came from the top of the central stairs. The sound of her galloping steps down was loud against the wooden surface.
“Sorry about the wait,” she added. “But no point carrying a polaroid camera without any film, right?”
“Like carrying a mug without any coffee,” Esmeralda said with a grin, standing in front of Prince Kai, while he frowned and fussed with her dark green coat. The prince had an abhorrence for the cold, and that extended to making sure Esmeralda was always wrapped up warm too.
“Exactly.”
Though I’d been turned away from the stairs, the menace still found her way into my eyeline anyway, standing close to Esmeralda’s side. I rubbed a hand over my jaw again to cover the flare in my nostrils as my gaze trailed down her body.
I hated to admit it, but Mariyah knew damn well how to dress herself.
She had on cream, square-tipped boots that cut off at the bottom of her curved calves, with a pearl-cream silk skirt that showed a couple of inches of bare skin above her shoes. It wasn’t quite a pencil skirt, but it still had a slimline shape to it that moved like water against her thick thighs, full hips, and arse. She’d paired the two with a thin brown jumper, the zip-neckcollar pulled down to show off a silver chain around her neck, a pale sage-green, puffed jacket, and a small, cream handbag.
With her pink blush, mascaraed lashes, and half-up-in-a-bun, half-down hairstyle, she looked like a model on her day off—casual but still refined.
It was obvious why men drooled over her, but it was still irritating to admit. She didn’t need that kind of admiration from other men. It went to her head, and then I was left to deal with the repercussions of her bloated ego and arrogance. Not because seeing it made me grind my teeth to powder.
I glanced away and pushed my tongue against the inside of my cheek between my teeth, biting down to relieve the aching need to gnash and chew someone’s insides to pulp.
“Is he adjusting your coat again?” I heard Mariyah say, a teasing grin in her tone.
“Mm-hmm,” Esmeralda hummed.
