24
Zain
I had lunch in my study, trying my best to ignore the lingering scent of jasmine and musky feminine scent. I had told her that having a child, getting her pregnant, was a terrible idea. I was stupid.
Groaning, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I didn’t mean to voice it like that, but I was annoyed with myself for forgetting to wear protection when I knew the risks. The risk of having a baby and turning into my father. Hurting both Nasrin and our child. I couldn’t bear to think about it.
“You called me, Sultan?” One of the staff entered the study, bowing his head.
“Arrange a different room for me tonight,” I said and added, “Don’t let Sultana worry about it.”
He frowned, wanting to question me, but he knew who I was. So he agreed and left, leaving me to reflect on my choices.
