Arranged To The Devil (Incest Romance) Prt 8

 

Chapter 8
Hassan’s POV

"Wow, you have a penthouse too?" She asked, rushing over to the floor-to-ceiling window. "Wow!" she continued, her voice filled with astonishment. "The view of the sea; it’s dark now, but I can imagine how beautiful it must be at day."

"Yes, we’ll have dinner on the roof," I replied.

She tore her gaze away from the skyline, though we were seventy feet up. Despite the height, she didn’t seem bothered.

"I believe you’d rather be here than at the house," I added.

"Your house is like a museum," she said. "Filled with too many artifacts."

I took off my jacket. "They were collected from my grandfather’s time. They’ve been cleaned and polished for preservation."

"I noticed. I could smell the heavy polish," she said, her nose crinkling slightly.

"Come with me," I gestured, leading her toward another room. Over the course of a year, I’d learned everything about her, even her shoe and clothing sizes. It was as if I were reading a romance novel; each chapter more captivating than the last.

"This is your dress for dinner, and this is the one for bedtime," I said, handing her the garments.

"Thank you," she replied, stepping toward the bed. She picked up the nightgown and paused, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she caught me staring at her.

"You want me to wear this to bed?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

"Yes," I answered, my gaze never leaving her.

"Uh… I’ve never worn anything like this before," she murmured, clearly uncomfortable.

"Well, now you will," I said, unable to hide the anticipation in my voice. I couldn’t wait to see her in it—her legs, so beautifully long and delicate, pressed against me.

She set it down on the bed. "Is it comfortable?"

"Very," I said. "It’s flowy and made for sleeping. Perfect for you, my dove."

Her confusion was clear. She kept looking at it, even after putting it down. I walked over. "Please get ready, we're late for dinner." I softly kissed her neck.

She nodded, pulling away fast. She'll get comfortable soon. This dinner was to help her feel less shy around me. Pretty soon I want her to be bravely chowder down my cock.

"Can I have privacy?"

"Of course," I said, giving her space for now. She needs to be open with me. "I'll wait outside."

"Do you need me to wear my scarf?"

"No, my dove." I answered. "Need anything else?"

She shook her head.

************

Sukina's POV

The sweet blush satin dress hung nicely. It had a small slit on the side that didn't show my knees. But the fabric felt just like lingerie.

I inspected the satin fabric, and there was no mistaking it—this was not a nightgown. I don’t typically dress in a way that accentuates my body, and the thought of wearing something so revealing left me uncomfortable. I could already imagine how exposed I would feel under the sheet with her.

I slipped on a pair of strapless black heels, adding a few extra inches. I walked out feeling taller, but the moment she stood up, I immediately felt shorter again, realizing there was no real need for the heels.

"We're very late for dinner," she remarked.

"When was dinner?" I asked, confused.

"7 p.m."

"Oh."

She gave me a once-over, then ran her finger along the strap on my left shoulder, adjusting it.

"Thanks?" I muttered,

She took my hand and stepped back. "You look absolutely stunning, my dove." She spun me around, and I hesitated slightly, managing a careful twirl in my heels.

"Thank you."

We entered the elevator, which took us further up. When the doors opened, a gust of wind blew over my shoulder, sending a chill through me. My hair swayed with the breeze before settling as the wind subsided.

At the top, the chef was waiting by a table, two tall candles flickering softly. The dishes were covered with silver lids.

I gazed out at the night sky. It felt close, almost within reach, while the sprawling city below seemed distant and endless. The city lights dimmed the beauty of the sky, and as I stared longer, the contrast became striking.

Hassan pulled out my chair for me, and I sat down. "Thank you," I said quietly.

She exchanged a few quiet words with the chef before he left. Then she took her seat across from me, reaching over to remove the silver cover from my plate, revealing a beautifully prepared steak dinner.

"This is beautiful—all of it," I said, unfolding the napkin and laying it across my lap. "The night sky above, the city stretching beyond, the dinner, the wine... it’s all perfect."

“It’s just dinner,” she replied softly. “I arranged it to give you a comfortable space, one where you’re free to ask or say anything.”

Damn. She could’ve taken me to a diner and it would’ve been just fine. This felt far too elaborate for anything casual. Still, since she was opening the door for honesty...

I picked up my knife and fork, arranging them with deliberate care. She poured wine into both of our glasses. I met her eyes.

“I have to say it. I find this whole thing weird. And that kiss today? It was disgusting.”

She blinked. “Did I have bad breath?”

I let out a small smile. She knew better. A woman like her, who clearly takes deep pride in her appearance, wouldn't overlook something as basic as that. Anyone would fall for her—and yet, here she was, talking about marriage as if it made sense.

“You didn’t.”

“Then why didn’t you enjoy the kiss?”

“Because we’re family,” I said. “Families argue, laugh, even fight, but what they don’t do is sleep with each other.”

“I assure you, it’s no different than sleeping with anyone else. The same rules apply. If anything, it feels better.”

I stared at her in disbelief, setting my utensils down. “Wait... you’ve done this before? Slept with others in the family?”

“I have,” she answered plainly.

I frowned deeply, eyes narrowing. This woman was out of her mind.

“You’ve never been with anyone outside the family?” I asked,

“No,” she replied.

I leaned back, stunned. This was not the conversation—or the confession—I had expected.

She took a measured sip of her wine. “That would be breaking the rules, my dove.”

“That would be being normal,” I replied, perhaps too sharply. It sounded argumentative, because it was. I was pushing back, trying to assert my perspective. But in her world, my opinion didn’t seem to matter.

“We don’t break rules unless there’s absolutely no other choice,” she said calmly.

“How many women in the family have you slept with?”

“The numbers aren’t available at the moment,” she said, evasively. “Don’t you want to know something else about me?”

God, no.

“Name one.”

“Anesha.”

My jaw dropped. That was my young aunt and, as I now realized, married to someone else in the family. The revelation turned my stomach.

“Oh,” I muttered, stunned.

“All that really matters is that I’m in love with you,” she said, with absolute certainty.

I closed my eyes. “You don’t have to be.”

“It wasn’t forced,” she continued. “I saw you in the family photo album. It was love at first sight. I had your parents remove you from the book. Because you belong to me, since last September.”

“Mhm,” I hummed, uncertain and utterly disturbed.

“You’ll become more open in time,” she added. “Hopefully by tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything you want to know about me?”

There was a lot I wanted to know. Why did she make me so nervous? Why was she so interested in me? What was going on with my family? And why, despite everything, did I feel this strange urge to please her?

Instead, I asked, “What makes you happy?”

Why that question? Because, deep down, I knew I wanted to learn how to make her happy.

“Anything that involves you,” she answered smoothly.

“Okay. That’s all,” I murmured, lowering my gaze to the plate and only opening my mouth again to take a bite of food.

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