Chapter Two

Beautiful could not even describe the man. It was as if his piercing hazel eyes, were staring right at her. There was a look in his eyes made his face seem as if He carved him from marble. Anyone could see he was handsome. Beautiful even. Aziza was never one to be fond of a full beard on a man's face, but she had to admit, Prince Rafiq was more than making it work. He was rocking it. In that picture, she could see the prince was wearing a beige keffiyeh and a leather jacket, looking good in it. But, then again Ziza sure he would look good in anything.... or nothing at all. The moment that thought crossed her mind, she chastised herself, reminding herself that she was already in a loving relationship.

"Told you, you would drool." Ferran’s laughter brought her out of her thoughts, making her blush a little.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. I heard the guy's a royal pain in the butt. Arrogant, short-tempered, a whole list." He moved around again with Ziza following closely behind.

“At least his looks make up for what he lacks in terms of that." Ziza shrugged

"I guess. Now why don't you make yourself useful and go serve your last table before our shift ends." He pulled the newspapers from her grasp, replacing it with a plate. “Go on, or else I won’t show you your birthday surprise." He winked.

"You know I hate surprises." She rolled her eyes.

"I know but I also know you'll love this one."

"Fine, but you better make it good. May you please, whip something up for me before we have to leave? I'm starving." She got up and spared a glimpse of the clock in. 6pm, only ten more minutes to go.

Aziza got up with a sigh, tying her black apron around her tiny waist. She checked her long-sleeved shirt of any stains, and her black tie and when she found none she pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. In this part of the restaurant, the atmosphere was different. Fewer people were moving around, the most noise was the light chatter of the customers' conversations. She picked out new customers from the bustling room. A young couple had just occupied table nine. Ziza sucked in a deep breath, one more, she thought and released it one whoosh. She fixed her posture, took out her notepad and cued her signature smile.

___________

Rafiq spared one more glance to his sharp image clad in a business suit before making for the King's study. Upon his arrival, two guards drew the large oak doors open for him to enter, then closed them as soon as he had stepped into the grand room. It had been a long while since he had entered this room, so he took his time to survey the grand room. Taking in the furniture, carvings, drawings, and art on the walls and dome-shaped ceiling. Rafiq remained silent as he paced towards the floor-length windows adorned with rich and beautiful golden curtains. He had just come to a stop when he heard his father enter the room.

"Welcome home my son." He heard the man say from behind him.

"Father." He said in acknowledgment, "Well that was not the impression you gave me when I spoke to on the phone a few days back." He turned around to face his father. The older man stood behind his office chair.

"Your majesty, his Majesty will see you now." The maid announced to the crown prince. She bowed her head and her hands folded in front of her skirt.

Rafiq remained silent for a while, gazing out of the window to the flourishing palace garden before turning to look at the servant.

"I will be there shortly, now leave." He scolded. Knowing of the Prince's short temper, the middle-aged woman scurried out of his bedchambers before she irritated the man.

"You look well." He added as his eyes took in the military uniform that fit snugly on the King's aging body.

"That was because I had and still have to discuss serious matters with you. Besides you are always welcome here, it is your home." The King spoke after deciding to ignore his son's remark.

"What are these serious matters if I may ask?" He asked even though he had an idea. No, he didn't have an idea, He knew.

"Your behaviour is unbecoming Prince Rafiq." He said as he moved to take a seat on his chair behind an enormous desk that many before him have used.

"You're making me feel as if I'm twelve again." He walked up to the desk and stood to look down at his father with us hands in his pockets. Blatantly ignoring protocol.

"I will make you feel whatever I see fit when it is necessary." The King snapped and Rafiq could see he was angry, piquing his curiosity even more. Something about it didn’t feel like it was just another simple chastising session with his father. He sure seemed more riled up than normal.

"I see." He nodded his head, what is the problem, perhaps I can resolve it?" He proposed, finally deciding to take a seat.

"Tell me, if you can resolve this." His father flung a few pages of magazine and newspapers articles across the desk. Tabloid articles to be more specific. Rafiq instantly knew what this was, taking one into his hands with a puckered brow. There, on the front page, was none other than himself, a few weeks ago. But he was not alone. He almost never had his picture taken alone, not since he graduated from university. Everyone knew that, including the king himself. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips in remembrance of the night that photograph. An Entrepreneur’s gala of some sorts and boy did his date, the blonde beauty wearing a provocative, champagne, cocktail dress that had left almost nothing to the imagination, know how to have a good time. The headline caught his attention next:

Model Jessica Rever and Middle East Hottie Prince a "thing"?

He had enjoyed the model's company for that night’s few hours until they mutually went their separate ways. It was rare finding a consenting female for his company who wouldn't read something more in the way he showered his attention on his dates. That's why he liked her, Jessica was a straight shooter. She knew what she wanted, how and when. No strings attached. No mess. No cleaning up afterwards. It was a quality he admired in his preferred type of women, and few of them possessed that, which was why he was picky with his choices. Rafiq wouldn’t mind in the least engaging her company again if he were to travel to her part of the globe again.

Notorious Prince Rafiq gets cosy With British Reality Star Sara Hansen on a Private Beach in Miami.

Apparently it wasn’t so private, he thought.

Below, was another headline, with a different photo, taken more recently. A few days ago to be more precise. This time he was naked from the waist up, dressed in only his swimming shorts. Sure enough, staying true to his Casanova self, a woman in very revealing swim wear lay beside his tall figure in the sand. Anyone could point out she was a different woman from the previous picture, the most obvious being that this one had hair the colour of the setting sun, and she was more petite. They were practically sucking each other's faces off as they lay in the sand.

Lip locking and popping with Prince Charming at the new hot club Lucid

Alexa Michaelson...

Blair Emery...

The list went on, and those were only stories from the previous three weeks. The point was Rafiq was a hard work and play a hard man. When you finally achieved all you could have ever desired. The freedom, the wealth, the ability to visit all the beautiful places on the planet at the drop of a keffiyeh, life sort has a way of becoming dull. This was his way of escape, and no one could take that away from him, no matter how they disapproved. He figured if tradition was eventually going to constrict him once he was on the throne? What other better way could he spend his money and the rest of his time before then, than with the company of all the beauty the world had on offer? He liked to relax after a hard day's work. All work and no play… You know how the saying goes.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Prince Rafiq?" The King peered at his son from the top of his glasses.

"Is a man not allowed to enjoy the fruits of his work?" He shrugged.

"Fruits of your work? This is an abomination!" The King banged his fist against the desk with fury, a King who engages in such immoral actions that go against our traditions will not lead Dhakhar! You will not shame this country and its people." He bellowed.

"Father I think I am a grown man, not a child and. I can do as I please with my money and my time." He said coldly.

"Not when you're the crown prince of Dhakhar! The next in line to the throne. Over my dead body will I hand over the throne to such? Act like royalty damn it! What kind of image are you painting to the world? This is not Dhakhar," He gestured to the papers, “These are not our principle values!" He boomed.

"My apologies father I—"

"Sorry is not enough. You need to work on that temper and behaviour or I will fix it for you. Keep this up and you will never sit on that throne. Am I clear?" The King asked.

"Yes, your Majesty." Rafiq swallowed thickly.

"You are going to marry in the next year perhaps that will “tame” this rebellious attitude you’re brewing within you." The King added, causing Rafiq’s eyes to widen.

“Marry?” He blurted out. That meant commitment and Rafiq was neither ready nor was he intending to do so soon. “How am I to find a bride in such a short time? It’s impossible.” He said, his brain frantically searching for a way out.

“I do not know and neither am I concerned. Though knowing you, you will probably have found on within the week.” The King scoffed. This wasn’t good. No. He had to stop this madness. Rafiq knew he should have worried about his father’s peculiar behaviour. Perhaps then, with a head start, he’d have been better equipped to fight his way out of this trap. Resisting the urge of combing his fingers through his hair, he raked his brain for solutions. That’s when his mother’s face flashed in his mind’s eye. If there was anyone who had the skill or power to make his father rethink his decision, it was the queen. She couldn’t have agreed to this. Even then, he was convinced he could get her to see things from his perspective. However, his planned halted right in its tracks, because his father was always one step ahead. As if he’d been reading his thoughts, his next words left him defeated once more.

“I know what that look means, what you’re thinking. I’ve seen it many times before and unfortunately for you, you will not have your way this time,” Before Rafiq could say anything, the king stopped him, “I will have you know, your mother is entirely on board with this decision. I might as well have been her idea.”

"But father—”

“No buts! It is a warning, prince Rafiq. Cross the line again and you surely will get it. I dismiss you." He said before going back to the files and papers opened and sprawled out on his desk. Rafiq wanted to protest, but he saw no use of doing so, whatever the King says, it goes. So instead he just stood.

“Your Majesty." Stiffly, with clenched teeth, he rose to his feet, bowed and then left the room without as much as another word. After all, he had work to get to.