Spice of Love - Completed

Chapter 2

The Audi A7 glided to a halt before The Muse—Melbourne's most expensive luxury condos on St Kilda Road. The door slid open with an expensive click but the boot that thudded on the ground from within it was in stark contrast to its surroundings. Steel tipped, and dust covered, it was meant for hard construction sites rather than the very epitome of elegance of its present surroundings. But its owner was either careless or disregarding, or perhaps even both, as it merely followed the boot out to stand on the expensive driveway, impatiently tossing the key to the Audi in the palm of his hand as he waited for the valet parking service to do its thing.

A young fellow arrived, flustered from his rush and full of apology, but Sadiq was not of a mind to pay him any heed beyond tossing his key to the fumbling youth and striding away. The day had not gone as planned, and while his face remained expressionless of the ire raging within, his determined strides told all to keep out of his way. Smiles of greeting froze awkwardly, murmurs of courtesy stifled and fell silent, and in the end a great effort was made to keep out of his way. The Muse catered to the rich and famous the world over, housing many of them within its plush confines, and its staff were highly trained in catering to the whims of not just the rich but the filthy rich. But the owner of the block itself strained their efforts to the point of breaking. Not that their flat expressions decorated with a fixed smile gave any of their inner anxiety away. Still they were unable to hide the very visible tensing of their frames as Prince Sadiq the Sadist prowled silently by.

His long, lengthy strides made short work to his private elevators, then the facial recognition swept over him on entry, and without any outward instructions from him, the elevator shot up, taking him to the topmost floor of his building.

Luxury of any kind was his birthright. Being a prince in a land rich with black gold made certain of that. Even the poor were rich in his kingdom. But that did not mean he was spared the hardship of being poor. It did not mean he had been saved from experiencing the hunger that went with it. The [rince cast a sardonic eye over his domain as he stepped out of the elevator that opened up straight into his living room. Luxury dripped off every Swarovski crystal and glinted off every gold-plated rod that strung up the chandelier—the central eye-catching piece that never failed to draw gasps of awe. The prince himself merely strutted past with nary a glance. It was the wide wall-to-wall windows that beckoned his attention. That and the view of the city that lay beyond. From his vantage point he could view the harbour and the open sea from one angle, and the sprawling city in the other. But at that late hour, all he saw was vast darkness spotted with shimmers of light.

Sadiq lifted his hands to the transparent screen before him, his jacket open, his tie slung loosely over his broad shoulders. The news he had from his father had him wishing that glass gone. Sadiq dropped his head to rest it against the cool panel and squeezed his eyes closed. This was not the first time his father had thrown an ultimatum at him. Not that there had been a choice offered that first time either. But he had been all of six years old then.

"You will apprentice with my old friend Mustafa."

Young Sadiq had trembled in fear at his father's words. The name Mustafa had rung alarm bells, even in a child. Especially a child. The fearsome General Mustafa, though retired from his war-making duties, was still very much active in his camps, where boys were sent to be made into men.

"Non!" cried the king's wife. Sadiq's French-Persian mother had rushed forwards in protest, but he had known just as she had the futility of her words. There would be no changing the king's mind once he was decided on a course.

The king didn't bother with a response, but merely nodded to his man to see his order carried out. And it was. Two days later, Sadiq blinked drenched lashes over his emerald green eyes, looking more gem-like than usual with their sheen of tears. He bid farewell to a mother he would never see again. She would die of a broken heart in the nine years he was away, tortured in the pretext of training.