Page 49 of Tall, Royal Hater
He scoffed and, with the laziness of a big cat, leaned forward, resting his arms on his spread thighs. “Nur is the head chef. Not Pierre.”
“So? Your point?”
“Go ahead and throw yourself at him in your own time,” he said, his stare condescending and mocking. “But I’m not letting you use the wedding as an excuse. I’ll speak to Nur myself.”
An angry static charged across my skin. I wasn’t hurt by his implied insult, but I was fed up with his cold, spiteful attitude. He was acting worse than usual. He wasn’t retaliating to something I’d said, he was being purposely malicious, and his pale-green eyes lacked any emotion or care. He was supposed to be happy for his mother, instead he seemed like he was on a blind mission to inflict pain.
“What is your fucking problem?” I said almost nonchalantly.
“Why do you think I have a problem?”
“You mean other than the fact you’re acting like a fucking piece of shit when I’m only trying to help?” I scoffed. “And you had the audacity to call me selfish. But look at you.” I tilted my head and subjected him to a mocking once-over. “Acting like a neglected child and begging for attention just because your mum’s getting married.” I pouted and cooed my next words as if I were talking to a baby. “Is mummy’s little boy scared of Prince Arsh taking her away? How sad.”
The murderous darkness that cast over his face was something to be scared of, but my anger made me immune to it. Mostly, at least. When he slid right to the edge of the sofa, his legs brushing the coffee table, the little hairs across my back stood on end.
“Mistaking my silence for attention-seeking—”
“Silence?” I echoed in disbelief.
“—says more about you than it does about me, Mariyah,” he continued as if I hadn’t questioned his bullshit. “If you knew what it meant to put someone else before yourself, then you wou—”
“Oh, yes, I’m the most selfish person in all of Neves,” I said sarcastically. “That’s why I’m helping your mother and Prince Arsh, right? When her own fucking son embarrassed her by refusing to help!”
Fury stormed onto his expression, but it was quickly replaced by something sardonic. “Do you know what’s trulyembarrassing?” he asked rhetorically. “Watching you be so loud and proud, trying so fucking hard to impress a room full of royals.” My shoulders stiffened as he shook his head. “You can’t call me an attention-seeker for keeping to myself when you act so showy just to sate your desperate need to be seen and liked by everyone around you. Because, you know, Mariyah, that without it there is no other reason for anyone to pay attention to you. You don’t have anything else to give nor anything else going for you. You’re just a self-centred, spoiled, little brat.”
The quick snap of his last syllable was punctuated by a ringing silence.
A thick knot tied itself around my windpipe, and I couldn’t get air into my lungs. They burned. Or maybe the sensation was my heart crumpling in on itself for a quick second before juddering back out and releasing a painful heat. It was almost a relief when cold anger twined through it.
He had no fucking right to talk to me like that or about me like that when he had no clue about anything. About how many times I’d talked myself into believing it would be selfish and stupid to tell someone about my self-doubt and anxiety because my parents had given me such a good life.
Curling my nails over the notepad, I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. “Do you know what?” I croaked out, not lowering my stinging eyes from his. “Plan thefuckingwedding yourself.”
I threw the notebook across the table; it deflected off Shehryar’s knee and clattered to the rug.
Hands in fists, I shot up from the sofa and charged for the door.
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!If he wanted to be a dickhead, then he could plan Katiya’s wedding himself and explain to her why I was no longer helping.
“Mariyah.”
I could only see the door; everything else at the edges of my vision was black. My temples throbbed from how hard I was clenching my teeth. I had to get out now.
But as I reached my exit, the warm, rough pads of broad, long fingers brushed my wrist. “Mar—”
I didn’t think.I couldn’t think.My mind blanked out.
Without missing a millisecond, I swung around, raising the fist still locked around the pen.
I slashed it through the air.
Shehryar recoiled, his head whipping to the side. His hand shot out blindly, grappling my wrist. He pushed it back, and the pressure from the funny angle sent me stumbling against the door.
Silence.
I was panting, my body trembling. Shehryar held absolutely still, his hand pinning my wrist to the door high above my head. He was so close I had to keep my head back to meet his frown.
Several heartbeats passed before his hand tightened to the point I could no longer feel my pounding pulse against his palm. “You could have seriously hurt me,” he rasped quietly.
