Her Older Sheikh (Sheikh Breaks My Heart #9)

Chapter Three

A cheron : She's here again.

Acheron : Yeah, she's back again today.

Acheron : She finally asked our staff about you.

Acheron : Staff says her eyes are puffy.

Acheron : Will you just fucking come and see her for yourself?

IS THIS YOUR WAY OF telling me karma fucking bites, God?

I bet it fucking is.

People like to say that God works in mysterious fucking ways, but I've always thought God gets bored like everyone else, and that's when things go south.

He wants the best for us, sure, but He also likes fucking things up now and then, just to make things more interesting while He munches on popcorn in heaven.

In the years that civil war raged over my kingdom, and every man had to risk his life to free Huzna from tyranny, I was one of those who spoke scathingly of soldiers who felt themselves torn between love and duty.

Duty over personal interests, goddammit.

How difficult was that to process?

That had always been my personal credo, and it was not some platitude I simply mouthed. I always placed duty above all else, and that was also how I ended up engaged in the first place.

There was a Carribean island that we've had our eye on for some years. Its location was a key element in Huzna's defense strategy, and after much wheeling and dealing, I was able to acquire the property on one condition.

The seller wanted his granddaughter to marry a dependable man of his choosing while the girl wanted to marry for love. If I was willing to marry the girl and make her fall in love with me, the island would be mine, and I wouldn't even have to pay a single cent.

It was a deal I didn't hesitate to take, and I didn't pay any heed when my brothers warned me I was being too fucking hasty.

Duty over personal interests, right?

And that was how God had me eating my own words, when He let me meet the girl of my fucking dreams...just when I've already promised to marry someone else.

"This is it," Julian Alexeyev says.

Julian is a Russian professor who also happens to have a billion-dollar fortune, but right now he's taken the role of my chauffeur, and I feel like some inexperienced teenage boy with the way my heart pounds as my friend parks his car facing Mariposa House.

Our vantage point offers a clear unobstructed view of the cafe, and only a half hour passes when I see a girl cycle up to the B&B, her long blond hair loose, and her slim, toned body shown off to its every advantage in her sleeveless sports top and leggings.

"Is that her?" Julian asks.

A clipped nod is all I can manage, since I'm too fucking busy watching her like some crazy fanboy stalking his celebrity crush.

Just seeing her now makes my heart ache, and my knuckles have turned completely white at how hard I'm gripping the door handle. Every damn second is a struggle, every part of me desperately fighting against the urge to snatch her into his arms and give us what we both want.

I miss her, dammit.

That I do so makes me feel like a fool, but I don't give a damn. I know she's a stranger still, but she's already in my blood, and she's all I could think about the past fucking week.

"Did you really make it clear to her that it's impossible for the two of you to have a relationship?"

"I told her to forget about me."

"And?"

I look at the other man testily. "And what?"

Julian's eyes bore into mine. "You obviously didn't tell her the most important bit."

"I don't owe her anything—-"

"But you also knew she might not look at you the same way again if you told her you were engaged."

"I'm fucking betrothed, not engaged."

"That's the same thing—-"

"It isn't, dammit. Engagement is a personal choice, and my betrothal..."

"Go on," Julian taunts. "What's the difference then?"

Fuck.

FUCK.

FUCK.

My fucking betrothal is what it means to choose duty over personal interests, but it's also God giving me a dose of my own fucking medicine, for all the times I've given my soldiers hell when they were struggling to make the right choice.

"Why don't you just end it?" Julian asks quietly.

"Which one?" I ask bitterly. "My obsession with her, which has no cure? Or my betrothal, which is key to ensuring Huzna's ability to protect itself in future wars?"

"You're the only one who can answer that. But if you marry someone you don't love," my friend warns, "you could end up breaking another girl's heart."

JULIAN DRIVES US TO Paradijs when our stalking session concludes at the sight of her leaving the cafe and cycling away.

I miss her, dammit.

But this just has to be a fucking obsession, and nothing else.

Fleur meets with us at the lobby, and Julian's wife insists I join them for lunch at the club. Most people underestimate Fleur because of her reputation for being a social butterfly, but she's long mastered the art of using this misconception to her advantage.

She's extremely good at charming information out of people, and even though I'm already on my guard, I somehow still end up telling her everything.

Dammit.

"I'm so sorry you're faced with a choice like this," Fleur says. "But if it means anything, I have this friend who married a guy knowing that he still loved someone else. Long story short, he realized that he no longer loved the other woman, so..."

"You believe I may eventually feel the same way for my betrothed."

"It's a possibility at least, don't you think?"

"He wouldn't know how to answer that," Julian drawls, "since he hasn't met her."

Fleur's eyes widen. "Seriously?"

"I've been...busy," I say stiffly.

"You can't have been too busy," Julian points out, "since you also managed to 'obsess' over another girl in your spare time."

"Fuck off."

But of course, this only has my friend smirking, since me losing my temper means he's made his point.

"You can always check her social media," Julian's wife suggests. "At least you'd know what she looks like without having to meet her in person."

I make the right noises for Fleur's benefit, but the truth is, I already know I won't do anything of the sort.

Ever since meeting her, it's become impossible for me to even think about my betrothal without feeling I'm committing fucking adultery. I don't even know her name, but I already feel like looking up my own betrothed on social media feels like I'm betraying her.

Karma fucking bites indeed, and I now know that I'm just as weak, just as fucking human as everyone else. The only reason I had it so easy when choosing duty over personal interest was because none of the other things had mattered as much.

None of them had mattered the way she mattered, and now that I've learned my fucking lesson—-

You made Your point, God.

You made it loud and clear, so can You just show me what's the right thing to do now?