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Although their reactions inspire only his amused grins, he smiles on the rare occasion, bringing attention to his cracked-in-several-places nose that only adds to his charm and his full lips.
They also love to murmur behind his back about how hideous he is, and one of the reasons he got nicknamed a barbarian trapped in a suit is because his ripped body reminds me of a brick wall and threatens to rip his shirt open at any moment. He works out daily, and based on the videos I’ve seen, or rather stalked his ass all morning…he lifts such heavy weights, my cheeks heat just remembering the thoughts flashing in my head at that sight.
A shiver rushes through me, and I rub my arms because imagining his protection sends trepidation through me as he wouldn’t be patient, lawful, and understanding.
No, he’d punish everyone accordingly. I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing with him, and such thoughts are dangerous and stupid because I’ve always been independent and strong.
I had no other choice, so why then does his presence alone ignite my blood and urge me to act on my instincts trying to seek him out?
This deep need he awakened pushed me to hide from him at Callum and Giselle’s wedding and even during the aftermath, avoiding him at all costs. I exhaled in relief when they told me everyone left to go back to their respective cities.
Not that it saved me or cured the madness creeping up on me whenever I allowed myself to think about the stranger causing havoc within me. Lust consumed me, whispering in my ears to indulge in my deepest desire and let go just once, finding solace in his arms, and maybe then the world would stop.
The memories would stop, and his shoulders would carry all the responsibility that sometimes suffocated me.
The air hitches in my throat, and I rub it, shaking my head but still staring at the man. Although obsessing over him is a waste of my time.
He can have whoever he wants, and the last woman he’d ever pick is a mousy, broke ex-police officer who was called cute at best and ugly at worst.
Men from his dynasty marry only the best of the best and never settle for anything less, and even though the thought fills every cell in me with hurt, I grit my teeth and keep my emotions locked deep down in my soul.
Because they are irrational and idiotic. Maybe if I dated more or at all, I wouldn’t be this attracted to a man who just stared at me once.
I never asked for his name because I knew my obsession wouldn’t let me rest, that I’d study his life. The idea of seeing the type of woman this man is attracted to just kills something inside me.
He’s an heir to the oil empire who rules his kingdom ruthlessly and scares whoever comes in contact with him. Famous for his control and intelligence, he managed to triple his fortune after getting the reins at the age of eighteen.
People might fear him, but they respect him, and despite his disturbing appearance, they invite him to all functions and desperately wish to do business with him, hoping to get on his good side.
Although just the idea is laughable, considering he has a soft spot only for one person, and that’s his little sister, Estella, who married her professor a few years back.
The most striking feature on his face, though, is his eyes.
His cold and hollow brown eyes have the power to stop everyone in their tracks and order them around however he sees fit, while his tan skin highlights several tattoos and deep veins on his arms and neck.
Among them all, though, one stands out the most.
The one he got with all his best friends.
The press loves to play guessing games about what it might mean and create fake stories to make them even more attractive and mysterious to the masses.
Three heirs to different thrones and one self-made king.
Each powerful on their own. However, their true strength lies in their unity, as their combined worth allows them to be invincible to anyone and anything.
Men for whom rules and order don’t exist because they crush them under their thumbs.
Life is endless play, while women are nothing but interchangeable bodies.
They say there is no woman alive who can resist them, nor a man who doesn’t bow to them.
I read the tattoo again.
In chaos do we thrive.
The Four Dark Horsemen.
CHAPTER SEVEN
