HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS
Isha Saene has perfected the act of balancing her life—a celebrated corporate negotiator spearheading an international trade deal that could catapult her country to one of the fastest growing mid-sized economies in Africa, and a loyal First Princess of Bagumi Kingdom set to seal ties with a neighbouring nation through marriage.
Until one careless moment knocks her carefully choreographed life into chaos.
Zain Bassong has always fought for the underdog—a patriot dedicated to fighting against the oppression of his people by the country's elite. He believes the pen is mightier than the sword and chooses the diplomatic route, no matter how many times he is arrested by the repressive regime.
Until devastating news triggers a chain reaction.
Isha and Zain are thrown together and their lives change. For better or worse? They will have to figure that out before it’s too late.
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“What do you want?” she asked in a hard tone.
“You,” he said, his tone edged with huskiness.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“W—what?” she stuttered as nervousness pulsed through her.
The last time she’d heard him utter a similar phrase, he’d been a young professor, the youngest she’d encountered as a law student. He’d been bookish, tall, slender, fine, so damn fine. He’d also been an activist with a susceptible heart and exuberant smile, keen to educate young minds and impart innovative ideas.
In the intervening years, he’d taken his campaign from the classroom to the courtroom.
He had changed. Gone was the youthful exuberance and mirth, replaced by the danger and darkness of ruthless eyes, tightly-controlled rugged face, and finely-honed muscles and the strength of a warrior.
Something fluttered low in her belly. A yearning sparked to life.
No. She gritted her teeth. Where was her hatred for him? That was the only emotion he deserved from her.
She turned her head away. All that mattered was for her to get out of here. In a few weeks, she would be married to Kweku, and this blip in her life would be forgotten.
“I came to invite you to lunch.”
His deep voice snagged her attention.
She couldn’t help the hysterical laughter bubbling out of her.
“Invite me to lunch. Is that what this is? Was I invited to your house?” Animated by anger, she paced, glancing at him occasionally. “Did you send an email? No? An SMS? A message with my assistant? Perhaps she forgot to tell me. Or wait. It must have been a telegram, right? You see, that is so nineteenth century. We are in the twenty-first—”
She paced to the far wall, turned, and halted.
Zain strode across the room.
On reflex, she stepped away.
He kept coming towards her.
Her back hit the concrete of the wall.
He stood before her, looming dangerously, dark eyes gleaming.
So close. Too close.
She sucked in a deep breath. Her nostrils filled with his alluring cologne—citrus and cedarwood—the same one that she’d always loved and made her want to take in a lungful of him.
“What are you doing?” she challenged.
“I’m going to kiss you. Or perhaps I should spank you.” He leaned forward.
Her pulse rate skyrocketed, and her mouth watered. She pressed her hands to the wall, hoping to hide their trembling.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she shot out. “I’m engaged to another man.”
“Wouldn’t I?” One dark eyebrow arched, and he looked her over.
He took another step, demolishing any space left between them, his palms braced on the façade, on both sides of her face.
His hardness and heat pressed against her flesh, the clothes seeming no barrier as his mouth descended.
She swallowed, scrambling in her brain for a way to repel him. If he followed through with his promise, she would be lost.
“Zain, let me go, right this minute, or I swear you will hang for this,” she said in a hoarse voice as her throat clogged up.
He halted, his mouth only a whisker away and tilted his head so he could meet her gaze.
“I’m ready to die for the people I love. Can you say the same, Princess?”