Dirty Wild Sultan by Mahi Mistry
Unknown
The man in the black suit entered, locking the doors behind him. I eyed the scar on his forehead, leaning back on my chair and clenching my jaw.
“So?” I asked, trying to hide the anger in my voice.
He didn’t dare to ask me to sit down, he knew I might reach for the blade and slit his throat. That’s what I did to the last man I had sent for my mission, anyway. He had failed, and I needed to show them just how much displeased I was.
How they had failed me.
No one dares to do that.
“Someone from the guards caught the poison, Sir,” he said, his deep voice turning into a stutter. “I-I don’t know how but they are blaming the cook.”
I exhaled sharply, closing my eyes. I didn’t say anything for a few moments. The air thick and tense in the room.
“For now,” I whispered, standing up and buttoning my suit.
“W-what?”
“They are blaming the cook for now, you shit.” I glared at him. Grabbing his collar, I sneered, “This is why I told you to poison the water, not the food.”
I pushed him back, pacing on the murky floor, my shiny shoes looking odd with it. “If you would have poisoned the water, she would be dead by now. Nasrin Al Latif would be dead and Zain wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
Raking my hand through my hair, I scrambled for my thoughts.
“What should we do now that… that the mission has failed?”
“Didn’t one of you confirmed that Nasrin and Zain have been together since their marriage?”
“Yes, Sir. We even showed you the pictures.”
Ah, right. The pictures of the royal couple in the heat of moment inside the study of Sultan of Azmia, Zain. They were creative with their… positions. I should give them that.
“Hm. We wait for now.”
“But he is still weak—”
I pinned my eyes at him over my shoulder. “Zain Al Latif is not weak inside his goddamn Golden Palace. Nasrin is with him. So is his brother, the princess and that Sheikh Zayed. We cannot risk making a scene once more.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We wait until they execute the cook. Send one of your cronies to get the job done and bring his tongue to me to make sure the cook is dead.”
I looked at my reflection in the old mirror and smirked. “Nasrin Al Latif will get pregnant soon. We will strike then.”
The man paled. “You don’t mean to kill her when—”
“I. Do. Not. Care.”
“I want to see Zain fall. I want to take away everything from him. Kill his wife, his child, his brother. Even his sister, Zara. She is a hot little thing, isn’t she?” I chuckled, thinking about having her with me, holding her hostage and torturing her until Zain begs me to return her to him. I will be sure to send him her head once I am done with her.
“I want to see Azmia turn into ashes.”