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Authors: Abby Green
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acknowledge at the same time that it wasn’t altogether unwelcome. Being surrounded by yes people and sycophants became wearing after a while.
He thought back to what he’d said, and still couldn’t see that he’d said anything untoward. Of course he hadn’t expected her to be pure and untainted. He was a modern man and a modern ruler. Why would he behave one way himself and expect his wife to have lived like a nun? The important thing was that, whatever Samia had been doing, he’d seen no evidence of it.
He gritted his jaw against the pervasive memory that threatened to burst free when he thought of the words
pure
and
untainted.
A woman had said those words to him with a scathing voice a long time ago.
Analia Medena-Gonzalez. A stunningly beautiful socialite from Europe who had come to visit Al-Omar with her ambassador father when Sadiq had been eighteen. He’d been no innocent youth then, but he hadn’t exactly been experienced either.
Analia, who was ten years his senior, had seduced him and reduced him to putty in her hands, enslaving him with the power of her sensuality and sexuality. And Sadiq, like the young fool he’d been, had believed himself in love with her.
She’d stood in front of him the day she was leaving and looked at him as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock. ‘You
love
me? Sadiq, darling, you don’t love me. You are in lust with me, that’s all.’
Sadiq could remember biting back the words trembling on his lips to contradict her. Even then some self-preserving instinct had kicked in—much to his everlasting gratitude.
She’d looked him up and down with those exotic green eyes and sighed. ‘Darling, I’m twenty-eight and looking for my second husband. You’re still a boy. The sooner you learn to harden your heart and not fall for every woman you sleep with, the better it will be for you. I know the kind of women you’ll meet. They will all want your body, yes, but they will also want you because you’re powerful and rich. Two of the greatest aphrodisiacs.’
She’d come close then, and all but whispered into his ear, ‘Believe me, Sadiq, they won’t care about the man you really are—just as I don’t really care. That’s why you have a mother. One day you’ll choose some pure and untainted local girl to be your wife, and you’ll live happily ever after.’
The banal cruelty of those words hadn’t had the power to shock or hurt Sadiq for a long, long time. He’d learnt a valuable lesson, and her prophecy had turned out to be largely true.
Once he’d become Sultan on his father’s death, at the ageof nineteen, he’d been catapulted to another stratosphere. For almost a year Sadiq hadn’t even taken a lover, too intent on taking control of a wildly corrupted and chaotic country. But once he’d re-emerged into society women had surrounded him in droves.
He’d quickly become an expert at picking the ones who knew how he wanted to play the game. No emotional entanglement, no strings. He’d become used to seeing the glazed, avaricious glitter in their eyes when they saw the extent of his inestimable wealth and on some perverse level it had comforted him—because he never again wanted to be standing in front of a woman laying himself bare to her pity and ridicule.
He’d actually met Analia once or twice over the years, and once had even seduced her again, as if to purge the effect of that day from his mind and heart for ever. He’d looked at her as she’d dressed the next morning and hadn’t felt a thing. Not a twinge of emotion. It had been a small moment of personal triumph.
Seeing the way his father had been so pathologically enraged because his wife didn’t love him should have been enough of a lesson to Sadiq, but it hadn’t. He wasn’t about to forget either of those valuable lessons now, just because the woman he’d chosen to marry was singularly unimpressed with everything he put before her, wore her vulnerability on her sleeve and made
He thought back to what he’d said, and still couldn’t see that he’d said anything untoward. Of course he hadn’t expected her to be pure and untainted. He was a modern man and a modern ruler. Why would he behave one way himself and expect his wife to have lived like a nun? The important thing was that, whatever Samia had been doing, he’d seen no evidence of it.
He gritted his jaw against the pervasive memory that threatened to burst free when he thought of the words
pure
and
untainted.
A woman had said those words to him with a scathing voice a long time ago.
Analia Medena-Gonzalez. A stunningly beautiful socialite from Europe who had come to visit Al-Omar with her ambassador father when Sadiq had been eighteen. He’d been no innocent youth then, but he hadn’t exactly been experienced either.
Analia, who was ten years his senior, had seduced him and reduced him to putty in her hands, enslaving him with the power of her sensuality and sexuality. And Sadiq, like the young fool he’d been, had believed himself in love with her.
She’d stood in front of him the day she was leaving and looked at him as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock. ‘You
love
me? Sadiq, darling, you don’t love me. You are in lust with me, that’s all.’
Sadiq could remember biting back the words trembling on his lips to contradict her. Even then some self-preserving instinct had kicked in—much to his everlasting gratitude.
She’d looked him up and down with those exotic green eyes and sighed. ‘Darling, I’m twenty-eight and looking for my second husband. You’re still a boy. The sooner you learn to harden your heart and not fall for every woman you sleep with, the better it will be for you. I know the kind of women you’ll meet. They will all want your body, yes, but they will also want you because you’re powerful and rich. Two of the greatest aphrodisiacs.’
She’d come close then, and all but whispered into his ear, ‘Believe me, Sadiq, they won’t care about the man you really are—just as I don’t really care. That’s why you have a mother. One day you’ll choose some pure and untainted local girl to be your wife, and you’ll live happily ever after.’
The banal cruelty of those words hadn’t had the power to shock or hurt Sadiq for a long, long time. He’d learnt a valuable lesson, and her prophecy had turned out to be largely true.
Once he’d become Sultan on his father’s death, at the ageof nineteen, he’d been catapulted to another stratosphere. For almost a year Sadiq hadn’t even taken a lover, too intent on taking control of a wildly corrupted and chaotic country. But once he’d re-emerged into society women had surrounded him in droves.
He’d quickly become an expert at picking the ones who knew how he wanted to play the game. No emotional entanglement, no strings. He’d become used to seeing the glazed, avaricious glitter in their eyes when they saw the extent of his inestimable wealth and on some perverse level it had comforted him—because he never again wanted to be standing in front of a woman laying himself bare to her pity and ridicule.
He’d actually met Analia once or twice over the years, and once had even seduced her again, as if to purge the effect of that day from his mind and heart for ever. He’d looked at her as she’d dressed the next morning and hadn’t felt a thing. Not a twinge of emotion. It had been a small moment of personal triumph.
Seeing the way his father had been so pathologically enraged because his wife didn’t love him should have been enough of a lesson to Sadiq, but it hadn’t. He wasn’t about to forget either of those valuable lessons now, just because the woman he’d chosen to marry was singularly unimpressed with everything he put before her, wore her vulnerability on her sleeve and made
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