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2. Simply Arrogant


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Writer’s POV:

Aisha was busy cleaning the Prince’s room, unaware he was still in the bathroom.
She was fixing his sheets when he stepped out of the bathroom. She froze, surprised and immediately uncomfortable. Luckily, Asahd had on a pair of trousers. Even till then, she reddened on seeing his nude chest and upper body.
Normal, he was sculptured and smooth. Staring at his golden and perfectly tanned skin made you want to run your fingers over it.

“Good morning, my prince,” she curtsied, her eyes on the floor.

“Good morning."

He walked up to his drawers and got some body lotion which he poured into his palms and applied on his skin.

Aisha, like a dumbass, watched him rub the lotion over his torso, ribbed tummy and strong arms. And he was tall. So tall. One more trait that had the girls and young women of Zagreh, swooning over.

“Were you sent here to stare at me?” he asked plainly and Aisha snapped out of it, her cheeks reddening even more.

“I’ll come back when you are done, my prince-”

“No,” he cut in firmly. “Go on. I want my room cleaned as fast as possible.”

“Okay, my prince,” she picked her duster once again and went on cleaning the place.

Asahd went to his huge dressing room and picked one of his very white and expensive shirts. He wore it and started to button his shirt’s wrist, leaving the dressing room.

He stopped when he’d stepped out, on seeing Aisha. The girl was on four legs as she struggled to sweep any possible dirt that might be under the Royal bed. All Asahd could see was her round bum in the air.

Silently, he approached her from behind. She heard nothing. He stared down at her, loving the position in which she was. He smirked to himself as naughty thoughts crossed his mind. He was perfectly aware of the fact that all those servant girls and maids were nuts over him. It was a fact.
And he sure took advantage of it. Not that he’d slept with any of them, his parents would kill him, he just played with them. Played very expensive jokes.

Aisha stood, unaware, and was dusting her hands. She turned and gasped, when unexpected and surprised, she hit his bare chest because he’d been standing right behind her.

“Um, I- I’m sorry, your majesty,” she mumbled.

“It’s fine,” he smirked and the girl thought she would pass out. “Button my shirt.”

His sudden order was firm, but something about it was so sexy. Dominant and sexy.

“W-what?”

“I said,” he raised her chin with his finger, and her breath caught up in her chest. “Button my shirt. Now.”

Trying not to pass out, Aisha raised her shaky hands and did as she was told. Who was she to refuse orders from the Prince? No matter their type.

As she did so, there was a brief knock at the door and Djafar walked in, causing Aisha to freeze. Djafar let out a little exasperated sigh. He was tired of Asahd always asking inappropriate favors, or demanding rather, from the naïve and younger maids. It was always the same story. From massages to private dances and much more.

“Aisha,” he said plainly and the girl stepped away from the prince. She curtsied and left the room, immediately.

“Wussup, Djafar? Missed you, old man,” Asahd chuckled and finished the job, Aisha had started.

“No wussup when you’re here, Asahd. I’ll repeat it over and over. Here, you are royalty and you have to be as formal as much as possible. Mind your language,” Djafar sighed and Asahd laughed.

“Okay. How are you? Or, even better, how do you do, Djafar?” the Prince mused.

“I’m fine, your Highness. Thank you. Missed you too,” Djafar replied, finally smiling. “I see you’re back to bothering the maids. You really should stop.”

“Mmm. Whatever,” he finished dressing and both men left the room.


***

Asahd’s POV:

“Good morning, father.” I said, kissing my father’s gold ring.


“Good morning, mother.” I kissed my mother’s cheek and then joined them at the table.

“Good morning,” they both replied.

“Finally, we get to see you. You arrived yesterday and didn’t even tell us about your trip. You retired straight to your room,” the sultan started and I tried hard not to roll my eyes.

“Was bummed,” I replied, causally.

“Language,” my mother cut in firmly and I gave up, rolling my eyes.

“I was tired, dear mother and father. Happy??” I asked with sarcasm. They stared silently for while. “I missed you a little and at some point, I was happy to come back here. I’m beginning to regret it,” I added, looking at my watch.

“Enough,” my father said firmly and I decided not to say another word. He could be hard on me when really angry.

“How was your vacation?” the Queen asked, trying to cool tensions and change topic.

“It was great,” I replied with a little smile.

“Good to know, my dear.”

Soon we were served and dished. As we ate, we spoke of other things and of course, Royal issues came up like what, I had to prepare to take over the throne very soon and blah blah blah. That didn’t bother me, until.

“Why haven’t you chosen a wife yet, Asahd?” my mother asked and I tried not to roll my eyes again.

Stupid tradition wanted me married at twenty three, which was a few months ahead. And it was only once I was married that I could be later on crowned, sultan of Zagreh, at twenty five.

I wasn’t ready to get married. I loved my playful life and women. Oh, women. So many beautiful women I could taste. I’d tasted a lot but I wished I could taste all of them. Getting married was like putting a lock on me. I didn’t want that. I believed I was still too young to think about getting married.

“Because I haven’t,” I replied casually, eating my meal.

“Asahd, we presented you with a list of eligible women that would be perfect for you, so you would chose one. Why haven’t you taken a decision??” the Queen asked with a frown.

“Because none are good enough for me. Final. And I don’t even have marriage in mind,” I replied.

“What?!”

The sultan had been staring silently all this while.

“You are getting married,” he started. “Whether you like it or not. I have a very good friend, a rich man, he has a daughter that has studied abroad just like you. She is back in Zagreh and I will organise a ball tomorrow evening, and invite her as well as her parents. I want you to get to know her because if you don’t find or chose an eligible wife for yourself, you will marry her!”

I almost choked on my food.

“What? What if I don’t?”

“Try me and see what happens, Asahd,” he threatened. “Her name is Zouh. And I will organise for your marriage with her if you don’t find a woman for yourself, before you turn twenty three.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Mother??” I turned to the Queen for help.

“It’s a decision we both took,” was her firm reply.

“You are kidding me!” I growled and stood, hitting the table with a hand.

“Asahd, sit down!” my father ordered but I ignored him. I grabbed my phone and left the table.

I was heading for the dining room’s exit but two guards stood in my way and blocked the entrance with their guns.
Of course, the sultan had spoken.

Rolling my eyes, I turned and stared at my father.

“You can’t force me to eat. I’m not hungry. Allow me to leave because no matter what, I’m not sitting again.” I stated in a matter of fact manner.

They hated arguing with me because it saddened them. That was my strength and no matter what, they would give in to me.

Shaking his head in possible disappointment, he motioned for the guards to let me go. And they did. I stormed out.
I was annoyed because I knew they’d meant the marriage issue. And whatever I did would not change their minds. For the first time, I knew I was doomed, concerning a decision of theirs. There was no way they would give in to my tantrums this time.

“Wedding, my foot,” I muttered and dialed a number on my phone.

HelloAsahd?′

“Yes, Abdul. Where are you? I really need to chill.”

Can always count on meI have new imported liquorsome powder as well as hot ladies.′

“What would I do without you?” I smiled to myself. “I’m on my way. Will be there in five.”

Okay.′

I hung up and rushed outside to my superb, open sports car. The only jewel I really valued. It’d caused a fortune and was worthy of me. I didn’t bother to open the door but just jumped over and right in.

“My prince!” Saïda called and I saw her rush to the car, her list in her hand.

“What?” I asked, rudely.

“We were supposed to have an appointment with the Royal tailor and–”

“No, thank you!” I retorted and started the car. “Keep your Royal duties and stupid list, okay? Now move before I run over your toes.”

She stepped away immediately and I drove off, my tyres screeching as I did so.

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