Innocent - Roe Horvat Page 0,1

good man,” his baba said. “Poor soul.”

“I’ve barely managed to talk to him. He’s very reserved.”

Zana’s father grimaced. “I’ve heard Sajid treats him like a servant. But, Zana, are you sure? You’ve only just met the boy.”

“He’s in my heart already.”

“You’ve had so many men,” his baba said, no reproach in his voice. Still, Zana looked away, ashamed. It was true. “Did you think we didn’t know? It’s been years since you left your home, and you’ve lived in a different world, free and more open than here. Of course you’ve had lovers. I thought you’d find a man in Dalton City or maybe in London. And instead, you come back for a vacation and choose the Taheri boy? He’s so young.”

“He’s also wise, tenderhearted, and incredibly beautiful. I’ll wait for him, Baba. He’s worth it.” His parents kept staring at him as if they saw him in a new light. And maybe Zana had changed. “You’re right that I’ve had many men. I haven’t lied to any of them, nor have I used them. I might even have been in love once or twice, and I know how disappointment and loss feel. Maybe that’s why I could recognize a precious soul. I’ve glimpsed true happiness, and I swear it’s waiting for me in Navid’s eyes. Since the first time I talked to him, I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to bring him to Dalton City with me. And yes, a part of me is afraid I’m making a mistake. But every time I see him, I’m more certain.”

His omega dad listened intently and remained silent. As was his habit, Javad Massoud stared at his omega husband, waiting for his opinion before he voiced his own. Zana watched anxiously how the internal struggle made his parents frown and sigh. Finally, his baba squeezed his hand. “I trust your judgment.”

Zana’s father smiled and hugged his husband’s slender shoulders. “Just make sure the boy returns your feelings,” he said. “There’s nothing more painful than to be trapped in a loveless marriage for life. For an omega especially.”

“I’m going there again at noon. I think Sajid noticed my interest already because he keeps inviting me to parties. I promise you I won’t claim Navid if he doesn’t want me to do so.”

His parents’ worry only made Zana more determined. He would do the right thing.

Zana couldn’t look away from Navid’s lovely face. Navid’s skin shone like gold against the simple white shirt, and his feather-soft black hair curled at the tips. Zana imagined combing his hand through it while Navid lay in his lap. And those eyes. Dark, deep, glistening, revealing an intricate soul.

Hence, here he was again. For the seventh time in the past two weeks, Zana visited the Taheri palace, trying to steal a few moments of Navid’s attention under His Excellency Sajid’s strict scrutiny. Navid’s alpha father, the great Sajid Taheri, was callous, haughty, and arrogant. And he was set on gaining access to Zana’s money.

Today, Sajid had organized a garden party, an unexpected event with invitations sent out only three days in advance. The staff had seated Zana opposite Navid—no doubt by His Excellency’s direct orders. Obviously, the patriarch had ulterior motives.

Navid rarely lifted his gaze during lunch, hiding his stunning eyes underneath his long dark eyelashes. He ate only a little, and Zana barely ate anything.

“I don’t understand the French,” Navid’s cousin said, twirling the champagne glass between his fingers. The man, an alpha about twenty-five years old, sat to the left of Navid. Zana had forgotten his name. “So much fuss about food. The right way to eat it, the right time, with just that exact wine. The right way to order it. And yet they are so rude.”

“The Germans are worse,” Navid’s older brother, Bijan, said. “They have no sense of humor whatsoever. Beer everywhere. The food is disgusting, and the language sounds like a typewriter falling down the stairs.” He chuckled at his joke.

Navid frowned but didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to agree with his brother’s assessment.

“Have you been to Germany?” Zana asked Bijan.

“Once. A week in Berlin. I don’t remember much about the city. It was so crowded and dirty.”

“Paris is worse. So overrated,” the cousin said. “The smog, the noise. And the lines. Try getting into a museum in Paris. Ridiculous.”

“Isn’t it difficult to form a judgment about a country if you only spend a few days there as a tourist?” Navid asked quietly.

Zana leaned closer so he wouldn’t miss