The Princess He Must Marry by Jadesola James

Author:Jadesola James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-03-26T21:55:48+00:00

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PR has decided it might be a good idea for me to be seen visiting your father. All right? We’re setting up something for this afternoon, just a brief lunch. Jamila’s coming, and we’ll be photographed going in and out. Good press.

Akil wouldn’t have even seen Tobi’s text message were it not for a covert bathroom break. Standing in the sitting area of the gentleman’s lounge, he felt his body break out into a sweat.

She did what? What the hell was she doing?

Without hesitation, Akil headed back to the main room and abruptly suspended all meetings for three hours, citing pressing business. He ignored the looks on their faces; this was much more important. Yes, he knew that Tobi wanted to help, and yes, he knew that they’d developed an odd closeness in the past few days, and yes, he had given her the reins on this, but she had no right, no right at all.

Adrenaline had him breathing shallowly, and he forced himself to calm down. It’d been different, years ago, when the only role his father had played was a seat at his wedding. Now, he ruled, and if he wanted to keep his sanity, his father must be kept completely separate from everything. Especially his queen.

The former king was kept in a sprawling estate formerly used as a summer home by his parents, a secluded place by the sea that was about an hour out of the city. It represented happier times, and that was why, in a way, Akil had chosen it for his father’s convalescence, if that was the word he wanted. They had spent most of their summer vacations there as boys, and his father was much more relaxed when out of the public eye. He’d drunk less. Spoken to his wife with actual kindness. Looked at Akil once or twice as if he weren’t a complete disappointment, and his more violent tendencies...

Akil shoved the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t let them affect him, not if he was to face his father today. Part of him hoped he could grab his wife and make a quick exit, but he knew in his heart that wasn’t likely to be the case.

The manservant who met him at the door regarded Akil with a flash of astonishment that was quickly buried under a mantle of professionalism. He bowed low.

“Where is my wife?” Akil said impatiently.

“They are in the moon garden, Your Majesty. If I may announce you.”

“No need,” Akil said crisply, and walked into the house.

From what he could tell, the place was airy, spotlessly clean, well-kept. Built in a traditional Moroccan style, with open corridors and rooms, high arched entryways for air to pass through, decorated in shades of peach and a brilliant blue that reflected every ray of the sun. He remembered his mother’s voice, trailing sweet and clear through the halls, her tinkling laugh. He remembered the way he and his brother’s feet had sounded, drumming loud on the tiled floor, of the way they chased each other and slid into the walls.

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