Reign of a King (Kingdom Duet 1)

My hair falls down my back and I’ve put on red lipstick. Something that had Jonathan stare at my lips when I descended the stairs earlier.

I consider that a job well done.

I grab him by the sleeve of his jacket and pull him to a corner so we don’t block the entrance. “Listen, Layla’s family is the only family I have. I will not forgive you if you offend them in any way.”

“If you want me to do something, ask nicely.”

“Please.”

His lips tilt in a small smile. “Good girl.”

I try to ignore the flush that covers my skin under the dress and clear my throat. “Is that a yes?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Finally!” Layla peeks her head from the entrance, an apron wrapped around her waist. They must be really busy if she’s helping out. “Why are you guys lurking in the corner? I had to kick Sam from next door out to protect your table.”

“Sorry, Lay.” I straighten.

“Black Belt,” Jonathan greets blankly.

“Johnny,” she mimics his tone.

“A business owner, a karate belt, and now a waitress. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Strangling billionaires. But I’m thinking about adding that to my resume.”

I burst out laughing and she does, too. Jonathan merely narrows his eyes as we follow her.

The Hussaini restaurant has gotten a lot of renovations during the years I’ve known Layla. It’s a traditional one that serves North African and Pakistani recipes. Their speciality is the kebab and couscous, which I love to death and always bug Kenza to give me takeouts, even though she says it needs to be ‘decorated’ right.

There’s a homey feel to the restaurant and its cosy decor with Moroccan cushions and traditional colourful Tunisian carpets. Each table is half-obscured from the other with thin curtains. There are spaces fit for sitting on the floor and the others have tables with cushions instead of chairs surrounding them. The soft white lights add a certain type of ambience, a peaceful one.

The word ‘Halal’ is written in both English and Arabic at the top of the reception area.

I lower my head to avoid getting caught in the curtains, whereas Jonathan simply pushes them out of his way. He’s such a tyrant who doesn’t appreciate beauty.

“Aurora.” We’re stopped by the voice of Malik, Layla’s lawyer brother and the only other Hussaini sibling currently living in England.

He’s a lot taller than his sister, has brown skin like his father, and inherited the striking hazel eye colour of his mother. His body is fit and muscular, and I always thought he was hot as sin.

Only from afar, though. Because he’s my best friend’s brother and I didn’t want to lose her, which I would’ve if her brother had ever found out how much of a mess I actually am.

So I usually just settle with harmless flirting.

“Malik, how are you doing?” I smile.

“I’m brilliant. How about you?”

“Great. Is it just me or did you gain some muscles?”

“Totes, mate,” Layla offers on his behalf. “He’s been slaving at the gym.”

“Stop talking like a gangster, Layla,” he tells her.

She makes a face at him, but he ignores her and focuses back on me. “How have you been, Aurora? You haven’t come around in a while.”

“I’ve been kind of busy.”