Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Lost Wife ❯ Chapter 1

Nicolas Al Simien stepped out of the sleek black BMW and nodded curtly to the doorman who had held the door open for him. He looked around and then up at the gargantuan Manhattan Hilton hotel that towered over him, hoping it would offer him the long, soothing rest he needed after a fretful day.

 

As he deftly passed through the revolving doors of the Hilton, he was greeted by the usual lusty gazes from the women in the area and the respectful slight head-bows from the gentlemen. It was the same everywhere he went -- not that there was no reason for it; Not only was he an Arabian prince, but Nicolas was a strikingly handsome man with a face and body sculpted by angels. He was of a tall and toned frame with dark olive skin and silky dark hair that he kept no longer than at the nape of his neck. His breath-taking face had the angular features of a male model, complete with a straight nose and smooth, kissable lips, and his dark green eyes had the effect of magical orbs that could pierce straight through one's soul. And if that wasn't enough, his solid confidence sent vibes of desirable sexiness radiating off his perfect stature. He was a work of art -- even with his jaw set and expression grim that evening.

 

Nicolas closed his eyes and crashed on a chair as soon as he got into the penthouse after the short elevator ride to the top floor. He tried freeing his mind to ward off the numbing headache he felt coming on, but instead succeeded in letting the troubles of the day flood him; he had had to fly in unexpectedly that morning for a short meeting with an American businessman to seal a deal that would grant his company expansion in all of Saudi Arabia.

 

He had secretly hoped that in doing so, he would get the chance to escape from the heavy tension back at home; barely more than two years before, his wife had died in a fire that had occurred just six months after their wedding. She had been visiting her uncle at a hotel in Arabia when the horrible incident happened, and Nicolas had never forgiven himself for ever letting her go alone. If that wasn't enough, two weeks after her funeral a conference with the old neighboring king confirmed that he still wanted Nicolas to marry his daughter -- even before Nicolas had met Rea, his dead wife, the old king Fujahen al Na'jaar had suggested an alliance between both large territories through marriage, to which Nicolas had refused; he detested being forced into things. When he started seeing Rea, the suggestion came back full-force -- then al Na'jaar threatened war if Nicolas didn't marry his daughter. Nicolas hadn't taken the threat too worriedly -- his kingdom was far better off than al Na'jaar's in term of military and allies -- but his choice of Rea over the safety of his citizens made him look questionable in their eyes.

 

The constant negotiating and persuading al Na'jaar had imposed on Nicolas before Rea had been bad enough. The way those nuisances doubled as soon as she was dead were madly repulsive.

"Ugh." Nicolas shifted the malignant thoughts to the back of his head and got up to get a long sip of whatever alcoholic beverage was at the bar. He would sort out the bothersome thoughts the next day, he told himself, as he did every night for the past two years.