Chapter 3
Hassan's POV
Nineteen looked stunning on
her. She wore an expression of disbelief, framed by the veil, with one stubborn
black strand of hair escaping the head covering. She sat there, defeated,
having just spoken with her soon-to-be wife only moments ago.
I noticed the flush on her
face, the red ring around her nose. I had gathered everything I needed to know
just from our brief encounter.
Did she have a boyfriend? That couldn't be allowed. Her parents
needed to understand that she belonged to me, and only to me.
"Shall we begin?" I
asked, my gaze fixed on Sakina. Her parents spoke on her behalf. I reached for
the agreement. "I am Hassan Khalid, and I hereby claim you as my wife, for
the near future."
She leaned forward, taking my
hand, her eyes filled with uncertainty. She glanced at her parents before
slowly kissing the back of my hand. Her lips on my skin sent a shock through
me, awakening something deep within. "My name is Sakina Rayan, and I
hereby accept to be your wedded wife in the near future."
She rested her forehead briefly
on the back of my hand before pulling away too quickly and sinking back into
the sofa. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. The waiting—six months until
we could be close—was unbearable. I needed her now.
I had spent 364 days trying to
occupy my mind, but now that the moment had arrived, I felt the weight of every
second that stood between us.
I tore my gaze from her and
continued. "As stipulated in the agreement, the parents of the bride are
entitled to the following assets: One billion dollars in cash, the Soviet
Estate, two houses, a square of property, and private forestry."
Mr. and Mrs. Rayan nodded. I
slid the contract across the table. "Please sign here and here. This
document will later be signed by a private witness."
They nodded in understanding
and both signed their names. I glanced at Sakina again. She looked pale, her
gaze fixed on the contract as if it were the very thing making her sick. This
was supposed to be a beautiful day—the day I first saw her at the door—but I
wasn’t pleased to see she was already thinking of running away.
She looked defeated, and for a
brief moment, I was glad I hadn’t introduced myself to her earlier. "We
have much to discuss," I said, collecting the paperwork and placing it
aside before picking up the bell to summon the butler.
As he entered, Sakina’s eyes
lingered on him, almost as if she were trying to memorize his face. It was
clever of me to play the imposter role.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"Please take Madam Rayan
upstairs to the outlook. She seems to need some fresh air and a bit of
solitude."
Sakina accepted my offer
without a word, moving in that graceful, submissive way I found oddly
satisfying. She left, and once the door closed behind her, I dropped the
façade.
"Where is he? Has he made
contact with her? Has he touched her? Where is that boy?"
"Who are you speaking
of?" Mr. Rayan asked. He was my uncle on my father’s side, but with the
family history and the way I saw it, he was more of a stranger. He had
something I needed—his daughter, who, to me, was no longer just a cousin. She was
my wife.
"The man in her life. Find
him. Flush him out."
"I can assure you; he
poses no real threat." Mrs. Rayan said, sipping her tea to steady her
nerves.
"What I’ve heard tells me
otherwise. He may not be a significant threat, but he still poses one."
"He's nothing to worry
about."
"Good. Because, you see,
it would be... well, why don’t you take a guess as to what I’d do?" I
smirked, making this all the more interesting. They needed to understand
exactly who they were dealing with—the deal they had just made.
"My guess is that you
don’t play nice?" Mr. Rayan said.
"I don’t play. Playing is
for children. The last time I was a child was seventeen years ago. Any man—any
gender—who dares to touch her or play with her will bleed. It’s the only way to
correct such behavior."
"Yes, Ma’am."
"Please, wait here. I need
to have a private word with my wife before she parts with you both."
"Yes, please take your
time."
"Congratulations, and we
are so happy you chose our daughter."
I nodded politely and excused
myself from the room.
***************
Sakina POV
So, my husband wasn’t the old,
wealthy nutjob I’d imagined with bad breath. Instead, he was a strikingly
beautiful woman, with a Medusa-like gaze and a look straight out of the 1900s—a
serial killer vibe, but dressed impeccably.
It was only 11 a.m., but the
outside air felt like the scorching heat of a stone by a lakeside sauna. There
was no fresh air here—just thin oxygen, as the mansion sat high up on a hill.
Despite the original artifacts
that likely equaled the value of my entire arranged marriage, everything felt
suffocating. It needed a woman’s touch—not mine.
I realized I was standing in
enemy territory. I had been too honest with the butler, voicing my
distaste for the marriage. Now, she knew my every move.
There had to be something I
could do.
"Madam, would you like to
rest for a moment? You've been pacing for quite some time, and you seem to be
out of breath."
"I’m not out of breath.
Are you even the butler?" I eyed his suit. He looked young, perhaps too
young, like the kind of gentleman who would make older women swoon. He was at
that age—the kind that might own a yacht and charm a rich widow.
As I took in a deep breath, a
wave of anxiety hit me, and I realized how out of breath I actually was. I sank
into the thick concrete edge, the view of the mountains looming intimidatingly
in the distance. I tried to steady my breathing, but the thin air only made it
shallower. I might faint and pray I never wake up.
"Don’t stand too close to
the edge..." the butler muttered.
I glanced at him, but then,
almost instinctively, I moved closer to the edge. The concrete beneath me felt
as if it might crumble, threatening to send me tumbling and rendering me unable
to walk again.
"How does anyone survive
up here? I swear that the mountain blocks all the oxygen."
"You don't enjoy nature,
Madam?"
I couldn’t shake the feeling
that he was watching me, gauging my every move. The edge was so tempting. For a
moment, I wondered if he was positioned just so, ready to catch me if I jumped.
"I do," I replied,
trying to tuck the loose strand of hair behind my head covering. But with my
ears fully hidden, the stubborn strand refused to cooperate and only irritated
me more.
I looked out again. "It’s
beautiful, isn't it, my wife?"
My body jolted away from the
edge at the sound of her voice. She smirked, turning to the butler. "You
may be excused."
"Thank you, Ma’am."
He bowed and exited, walking toward the distant gazebo. It wasn’t the
traditional pointed-roof kind, but with the chairs and the oppressive air, it
gave off the same uncomfortable vibe.
We stood in silence, locked in
a tense staring contest. We hadn’t gotten off to the best start, and I wasn’t
eager to change that. I wanted us to go our separate ways.
"I’d like to speak with
you," I broke the silence.
"Go ahead." Her hands
went behind her back, and she continued to stare at me, not even glancing at
the mountain. She probably saw it a thousand times before.
"You have a beautiful
mountain." I gestured toward the view, hoping to shift her focus away from
me. I couldn’t speak like this.
In truth, we had started off on
the wrong foot. I knew she was wondering if I would try to run away. And
honestly, there was a possibility I would. Who would stop me? After all,
I was marrying her.
I wasn’t supposed to move in
with her until after the wedding, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d cry
the moment I did. There was something unsettling about her—a madness behind her
eyes. It wasn’t just the way her lips curled into an almost smile, it was the
deadness in her gaze. I was sure she could kill me. How did I come to this
conclusion? Well, she did say she could be scary when needed, but the truth
was, she was naturally intimidating, and it terrified me.
Oh God. I was alone with her,
miles from the ground.
"Mhm." She murmured,
her eyes studying me as though I were part of the mountain landscape. I felt an
odd surge of confidence and found myself stepping closer to her. She didn’t
budge. She stood her ground, towering over me.
"Don’t you find it at
least a little strange?" I trailed off, fumbling with my fingers as if to
highlight what I was trying to say. She watched me, an amused expression on her
face, before nodding.
"You don’t think this is
weird?"
"That we’re cousins and
now we’re about to be..." my words cut off, leaving nothing but a cold,
honest question hanging in the air.
I froze, the words barely
registering. I could feel my breath catch. "That... exactly." I tried
to laugh it off, but the gravity of the situation sank in. "The strangest
part is that we’ll marry. Isn’t that messed up?"
She didn’t react as I’d hoped.
She was taking this seriously, almost too seriously, and my attempt at
lightening the mood fell flat. My face suddenly lost its humor. "I know
you’re not going to enjoy this marriage."
"Why would my wife, the
one I’ve been waiting for, think I wouldn’t enjoy it?" she responded, her
tone calm.
"I am not your wife. I’m
your cousin." The reality of it settled in. I wasn’t sure what generation
we came from, but it didn’t matter—we were still family. I yanked off my
headscarf, feeling the cool air against my skin and finally tucking that
stubborn strand of hair back into place.
She stared, almost mesmerized
by my hair, and I immediately regretted removing the scarf.
"Hassan?" I pleaded
with my eyes, and she seemed so captivated by them. Maybe, just maybe, I could
use this beauty of mine to my advantage. I never wanted to use my looks this
way—it felt wrong, like a sin. But sleeping with her would be an even bigger
sin, and she was determined it would happen. "You don’t think this is
strange? Don’t you have a girlfriend, a crush, a high school sweetheart, or
even a college sweetheart? Please, marry someone else."
"I’ve been waiting for
you. There are things I must discuss as well."
"Yes? Anything you
want." I groaned, frustrated by how much I was saying, and how many
regrettable things were slipping out of my mouth. It was like my submissive
side had taken over, and I couldn’t stop it.
Her lips curled into a smirk,
one that only made me feel more uneasy.
"No one else will have
access to you. Not a man, not a woman, not even an alien, for that matter. You
will remain mine, my wife, solely for my purposes."
I nodded, but then let out a
heavy sigh. "We’re not supposed to—"
Her hand brushed my arm, and
the touch sent a shiver of sensitivity through my skin. "You’re my wife,
and you will always do as I say, my dove." She pulled me closer with ease.
"Do you understand, dove?"
"I just find this all very
strange—"
"It’s not," she
interrupted, her tone soft but firm. "You’ll get used to it soon. It’s
like breaking in a new pair of shoes." She pressed a gentle kiss to my
forehead. "I’ve waited so long for you, and I’m a very starved woman, dove."
Starved?
"Then why don’t you eat
food? You look like you could use it."
She smirked again—could she
stop smirking? "I’ll eat in due time." She muttered under her breath.
"Is there anything else you’d like to say?"
"No."
"Then I’ll leave you to
think on this," she said, "You are mine, and no one else can have
you. As for that boyfriend you’re planning to run off with, you’d better not
even consider it. Do you remember our conversation, word for word? Because I
can be very scary when necessary."
I looked down.
"I’ll see you soon, my
wife."
She turned and began to walk
away. I wanted to say something, anything, to express how much she infuriated
me. But I knew I couldn’t defy her—not now. Instead, I made sure to walk
loudly, letting my frustration echo in the space between us. She stopped and
slowly turned around, and immediately, my anger began to fade.
"Do you have something to
say, my wife?"
I wanted to shout
back—something sharp and dirty, to tell her to go fuck herself. She had that
crazed, cold demeanor, and it was so obvious that she was far from stable.
"No… nothing to say at
all."
She nodded, then turned to
continue walking. This time, I followed her quietly.
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