Page 92 of Tall, Royal Hater
I didn’t understand his motive, and that made me suspicious. The fact that he wasn’t using an official email address but one that looked like it belonged to a scam artist made me angrier. He was covering up his tracks, hiding the fact that he was communicating with Mum, and now me. It made me want to refuse his request and tell him to never contact me or Mum again. It was the least he deserved.
But…
My mind played a vague, blurry memory, probably so warped from the truth, of a tall figure crouching down, a rectangular box in his hand that he transferred to my outstretched fingers.I didn’t remember anything of what had been said, but I remembered his toothy grin and the weight of his kiss on my head.
That was the last good memory I had of my father.
That child grew into a resentful teenager and then into an unforgiving adult, but he was still there along with the memory. I’d cursed and hated it for years, wishing I could rip the memory right out of me, but I had never been able to let it go. Not then, not now.
It wasn’t that some small part of me was hoping for a relationship with him—that ship had sailed too long ago. It was a reminder of everything I hadn’t understood and still didn’t understand.
I had no plans of ever forgiving him, but maybe Mother had been right. Maybe talking to him once would give me the closure I needed, and I could finally put a lighter under that memory and burn it.
Minutes of grinding teeth and ricocheting thoughts passed before I finally clicked on the reply arrow in the corner of the screen.
Re: Shehryar
From: Me
Tomorrow. But I decide when and where we meet.
Chapter 22
Shehryar
The angry energy thrumming through me didn’t quite dissipate by the time Mother, Prince Arsh, Mariyah, and I headed to the famous, high-end department store in Central Pavilion after lunch. My planned meeting with Andrew Platmon lingered at the back of my mind, but my ire fluctuated up and down, finding different targets in the hours between.
Him. Prince Arsh. Mariyah.
I hadn’t sought her out to talk to her after emailing my father—the conversation wouldn’t have led anywhere, and I hadn’t wanted to lash out at her unnecessarily again. Though overlunch, she wasn’t cowering away like I’d accused her of, but I knew she wasn’t playing off what happened last night as well as she wanted to. But I planned to sort that out in the evening.
Now, I was being escorted to a private room by the shop assistant of a jewellery brand in the centuries-old department store with Prince Arsh to buy a gift for Mariyah, while Mum and the menace had gone off somewhere else together.
The middle-aged shop assistant, who introduced himself as Vin, stood on the other side of the black glass table as Prince Arsh and I made ourselves comfortable on the curved dark green velvet settee.
“Other than the request to see a collection of bracelets and necklaces, it was not mentioned on the phone what precious metal you wanted them to be,” Vin said, his white-gloved hands clasped before him and a bright grin on his face. “Sheela and I picked out a range of silver, platinum, and gold jewellery. Though, if you or the lady in question has a preference, we can start by showing those collections first.”
Prince Arsh looked to me expectantly. My brows twitched with the urge to frown as to why he thought I would’ve known what Mariyah preferred. But the truth was, I did know.
“She likes silver jewellery,” I answered. Vin nodded and excused himself with a bow.
The silence he left behind was fucking awkward as Prince Arsh took in the decor and I avoided looking at him. Just like it had been the rest of the time.
In the hour-plus we’d already been shopping, Prince Arsh had continuously tried to talk to me, and I had let each conversation die a swift death.
His attempts had started off in high spirits, but by the time we’d bought a shirt or two each and he’d bought Mum some leather gloves as a gift and smart shoes for himself, hisusually chatty, cheerful demeanour had quietened down, and his questions had become few and far between.
It was my fault. He was trying to get to know me, and I was unnecessarily being closed off. I felt shit about it, but between the situations with Mariyah and my father, and being pointed at and photographed while Prince Arsh and I walked around like I was a specimen on display, I was extremely uncomfortable and stressed out. Maintaining a neutral expression was becoming a task and a half, and I was pushing away the notion of getting to know my mother’s fiancé as a result.
Really though, it was just a poor excuse for my behaviour. I promised Mum I’d make an effort with Prince Arsh, and I could see how much he wanted me to like him too, but I still felt an uncomfortable pull of resistance around him. I didn’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to just accept him, but I knew it wasn’t his fault. It was my problem, and I was being unfair and immature by being cold to him.
I had to stop, but I didn’t exactly know what to say to him either. So, I just kept quiet.
Prince Arsh cleared his throat. “It’s a shame your grandparents aren’t able to come to the wedding.”
“It is,” I agreed with a politely distant tone. “With their age and the trip they already made, it would have been difficult for them to come on such short notice. But they’re looking forward to the idea of joining through a livestream or Room call, so it’s fine.”
