Page 89 of Tall, Royal Hater
I’d stewed all night thinking about what had happened and lost hours of sleep. The insanely good sex, how he’d made me beg and call him Daddy, him claiming I was running away, and the whole need to talk declaration as if there was anything to say or discuss.
I woke up tired, cranky, and hungry the next morning. The cranky part only got worse when I sat down at the dining table for breakfast and was reminded that Esmeralda wasn’t around.
Kareem had an early flight back to Jahandar, so Kai and Esmeralda had dropped him off at the airport. They were going to head on their full day out straight from there.
On top of that, rather than being stuck in the palace, I’d agreed previously to go shopping with Katiya, Prince Arsh, and Shehryar in the afternoon to buy a few bits for their upcoming wedding.
Shehryar sat opposite me at the table, quietly brooding between his food and me. I stared back with just as much dark irritation, because I was no fucking coward. Though underneath, my thighs clenched in memory of the stupid number of orgasms he’d given me. Every single hickey and aching muscle twinged with a greed for more.
Admittedly, his extra moodiness seemed to be caused by something else. Likely that he wasn’t escorting Esmeralda as her bodyguard, and my suspicion was quickly confirmed.
“Esmeralda was trying to explain the concept of a holiday to Sher as they were leaving,” Katiya joked with a grin. “But he still refuses to grasp the idea.”
Shehryar’s expression remained stoic, but his tone was low with displeasure. “Princess Esmeralda is the one on holiday. And yes, I wanted to see you, Mum, but I should still be doing my job of accompanying her wherever she goes.”
“Well, Kai’s team has gone, as well as the rest of Esmeralda’s team, so do not fret, Shehryar,” King Rami assured him. “Enjoythis time with your mother, or maybe this is a good chance for you and Mariyah to work on the wedding.”
I looked at Shehryar at the same time he looked at me. There was a dull glow of determination in his watercolour eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Mariyah and I have a few things to discuss.”
I narrowed my gaze.
He wasn’t talking about the wedding. But I was so fucking ready for him to come at me anyway.
Bring it, dickhead. I fucking dare you.
He didn’t bring it.
I left the dining hall, coiled tight like a cobra ready to strike, but this guy went with his mother in the opposite direction, leaving me stuck in fight mode with my emotions strung high.
Without an outlet to release the current running through my veins, I spent some time walking around the palace gardens before realising Ididneed to talk to someone before I exploded. My choice was limited with Esmeralda gone, until I remembered a cheeky pair of ruby-red eyes.
I headed back into the palace and made my way down to the kitchen where the smell of soap and fresh bread and something sweet filled the bright white and silver space.
Thankfully, Pierre, Roger, the head pastry chef, and Lola, the newly promoted co-sous chef, were finishing up an inventory of the kitchen larder and fridge in preparation for the wedding, so he had some time to speak to me.
“What’s up?” Pierre said quietly once we rounded a small square table by the wall.
“Nothing really,” I said, pulling a chair out. He sat in the one on my right.
His brows dipped in amused scepticism. “Am I supposed to believe that?”
“Believe what you want.”
He eyed me for a second, then leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What happened last night?”
His question punched the bullseye, sending heat swarming to my face. I tried to mask it with a perplexed raise of my brows, but my face felt so hot I was sure my eyebrow hairs had burnt off. “Why would you think anything happened last night?”
He gave me a slow, toothy grin. “You’re such a bad liar, do you know that?” I wanted to argue, but he kept going. “Not to mention, I saw Shehryar come back to the hall yesterday, looking all smug, after you two disappeared. Butyoulooked livid. So, something obviously happened.” He leaned in, his eyes dancing. “And if you’re asking me, I don’t think it stopped at the party.”
I couldn’t unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth or unlock my clamped jaw to deny it, leaving me feeling scorched, in more ways than one, and fuming.
His expression softened as he placed his hand over my balled fist. “You can tell me anything in confidence, Mariyah.”
As much as Pierre liked to play the goofy, flirtatious charmer, he was actually an annoyingly good person. He was perspective, responsible, and attentive, he cared immensely for the people around him, and he tried to hide it, but enough glimpses had told me he was more than capable of being serious too. There was so much more depth to him than he led people to believe.
Most of my anger melted as I held his stare—it wasn’t as if it was directed at him anyway. “What do you think happened?” I grumbled.
In slow motion, his brows rose, his eyes widened, and his grin expanded. “Seriously?”
