I accidentally married the sultan

The first thing I noticed about Zafira was that apparently, nobody here believed in doing anything halfway.

Not the buildings, not the landscaping, and certainly not the hotels.

I’d stayed in some beautiful resorts before, but nothing had prepared me for walking through a set of enormous golden doors and discovering an actual waterfall cascading down the side of the lobby. It fell three stories into a turquoise pool surrounded by palms, flowering vines, and marble statues. Sunlight poured through the glass dome overhead, catching the water and throwing little rainbows across the polished floors.

And that was only the entrance.

“Okay,” I murmured, stopping in the middle of the lobby. “I think I’ve died.”

Beside me, Sophie laughed. “Can you at least wait until we’ve checked in? I don’t want to have to explain to customs why my best friend died admiring the hotel.”

“I’m serious. Look at this place.”

“I am looking.”

“No, you’re looking at your phone.”

“Because somebody has to make sure we actually have a room.”

I gave her a pointed look. “Considering your company is paying for everything, I sincerely hope they remembered to book us somewhere to sleep.”

“Technically, the hotel is paying for everything. My company is just paying me to be here.”

“Even better.”

Sophie slipped her phone into her handbag and finally gave the lobby the attention it deserved. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose as she took in the enormous crystal chandeliers, the intricate blue-and-gold mosaics covering the walls, and the clusters of plush velvet furniture scattered between towering indoor palms.

“Okay,” she admitted. “This is ridiculous.”

“Thank you.”

“Although I’ve seen pictures of their other properties. Apparently, this is one of the smaller resorts.”

I slowly turned to face her.

“One of the smaller resorts?”

“Apparently.”

I looked back at the waterfall.

There were probably people in the world who could afford to have one of those installed in their homes. I was not one of them, and despite being financially comfortable after my divorce, I had absolutely no intention of becoming one.

“Well, I’m going to enjoy every second of being here,” I announced.

“Good. That’s why I brought you.”

She linked her arm through mine and steered us toward the reception desk, where two elegantly dressed employees were waiting beneath an elaborate golden arch.

I’d noticed something interesting since our arrival in Qasraya. Nearly everyone seemed to dress beautifully, even in the middle of the afternoon. The women wore flowing dresses, tailored sets, or magnificent robes embroidered with delicate patterns, while the men favored tailored suits or long, beautifully constructed traditional garments. There was no shortage of silk, jewelry, or rich colors.

Even the airport had looked expensive.

And the roads.

And the cars.

And, now that I thought about it, the little café we’d passed on the way here had possessed nicer outdoor furniture than most luxury restaurants back home.

I’d spent part of our flight reading about the United Kingdoms of Zafira, a collection of five smaller kingdoms united under a shared government. Each had its own ruling family, its own cultural identity, and what appeared to be an absolutely staggering amount of money.

Qasraya, where we were staying, was famous for its elaborate palaces, gardens, waterways, and luxurious resorts.

Apparently, the photographs online hadn’t done it justice.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Royal Oasis,” the receptionist greeted us with a warm smile. “May I have the name on your reservation?”

“Sophie Laurent.”

“Of course, Miss Laurent. We’ve been expecting you.”

The woman tapped something on her tablet before looking up again.

“And Miss Bennett?”

I blinked. “That’s me.”

“Welcome to Qasraya, Miss Bennett. We hope you both enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you. It’s beautiful here.”

Her smile widened. “We’re delighted you think so.”

While Sophie discussed the reservation, I wandered a few steps toward an enormous arrangement of fresh flowers.

White lilies, cream roses, delicate pale pink blossoms, and greenery spilled from a marble vase that had to be nearly as tall as I was. Their fragrance was subtle but lovely, blending with something warm and slightly sweet drifting through the lobby.

I leaned closer to one of the flowers.

Real.

Of course they were real.

I wondered how many people they employed just to maintain the floral arrangements.

Probably enough to staff a small hospital.

“Evie?”

I turned.

Sophie was standing beside a handsome young man dressed in an ivory robe with intricate gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. He held two slim golden cards on a velvet tray.

“Our suite is ready.”

“Already?”

“It’s almost three.”

“Yes, but I’ve heard of hotels making people wait until four.”

The young man smiled. “Your accommodations were prepared this morning, madam.”

Madam.

Goodness.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about being called that, but when it came from a polite, ridiculously well-dressed man standing in a palace disguised as a hotel, I supposed I could tolerate it.

We followed him toward a private elevator, our luggage having apparently disappeared into the capable hands of the hotel staff.

As we walked, Sophie leaned closer.

“By the way, I checked the itinerary. I have a meeting tomorrow morning and another in the afternoon, but tonight I’m completely free.”

“Perfect. Dinner?”

“Absolutely. There’s a restaurant overlooking the canals.”

“Do they have pasta?”

She gave me a look.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“We’re in one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the world, surrounded by incredible regional cuisine, and you’re asking about pasta?”

“I like pasta.”

“You can eat pasta at home.”

“I can also eat pasta with a view of a royal palace. That sounds considerably better.”

Sophie laughed, shaking her head.

It felt good to hear her laugh.

Actually, it felt good to laugh myself.

Six months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to enjoy something as simple as a vacation without a hundred unpleasant memories creeping in to ruin it.

Divorce had a funny way of doing that.

Especially when the divorce hadn’t been your idea.

Well, technically, filing for divorce had been my idea. Nathaniel had been perfectly content to remain married after I discovered he’d been sleeping with another woman.

Apparently, he considered the entire thing a regrettable lapse in judgment.

I considered it a very good reason to remove myself from his life.

We’d spent years building a marriage, and he’d managed to destroy my trust with one spectacularly selfish decision.

I still remembered the way he’d looked at me when I told him I wanted a divorce. He’d been so genuinely shocked that, for one absurd moment, I’d almost laughed.

As though he hadn’t expected there to be consequences.

As though loving me somehow excused what he’d done.

I pushed the thought away.

I hadn’t traveled halfway around the world to think about Nathaniel Cross.

Besides, if there was one advantage to divorcing a wealthy businessman who felt guilty about cheating on his wife, it was that the settlement had left me comfortable enough to take some time away from work.

Not that I disliked my job.

Quite the opposite.

Reviewing skincare products and packaging had started as something I did for fun before slowly becoming an actual career. I loved testing new formulas, comparing ingredients, evaluating packaging, and discovering whether outrageously expensive products were genuinely worth their price tags.

I had enough serums at home to moisturize a small village.

Unfortunately, somewhere between my marriage falling apart and dealing with lawyers, paperwork, and the emotional exhaustion of starting over, even the things I loved had begun feeling like obligations.

Sophie had been the one to suggest I take a break.

Then she’d announced she was traveling to Zafira for a luxury hospitality contract and informed me that I was coming with her.

I’d protested for approximately three minutes.

Then she’d sent me pictures of the resort.

I started packing.

The elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.

“Your suite is on the twenty-eighth floor,” our attendant explained as we stepped inside. “You’ll have private access to the eastern gardens, the infinity pools, and the spa. Breakfast is available in the main dining room, although you may also request private dining at any hour.”

“Any hour?” I repeated.

“Of course, madam.”

I glanced at Sophie.

She grinned.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re already planning to order room service at two in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely planning to order room service at two in the morning.”

“Good. Because I was hoping you would.”

The elevator rose so smoothly I barely felt it moving.

One entire wall was made of glass, offering a breathtaking view of the sprawling resort grounds. Below us, turquoise canals wound between white marble buildings, flowering gardens, and rows of palm trees. Ornate pedestrian bridges crossed the water, and little covered boats glided beneath them.

Beyond the resort, the city stretched toward distant golden mountains, its skyline filled with elegant towers, glittering glass buildings, and enormous blue-domed palaces.

I pressed closer to the window.

“Oh, Sophie.”

“I know.”

“No, seriously. Look at that.”

“I see it, Evie.”

“How is this even real?”

She smiled at me, but this time there was something softer in her expression.

“I’m glad you came.”

I glanced at her.

“Me too.”

And I meant it.

For the first time in months, I wasn’t thinking about everything that had gone wrong.

I was thinking about what I wanted to do tomorrow.

Maybe I’d book a facial. Visit the gardens. Explore the boutiques we’d passed on our way into the city. I’d already spotted what looked like an enormous beauty store from the car, and I was absolutely going to investigate that before we left.

Perhaps I’d even buy myself something completely unnecessary.

A perfume.

A silk robe.

A ridiculously expensive moisturizer.

Something pretty, just because I could.

The elevator opened onto a private hallway decorated in warm cream marble, deep emerald accents, and delicate golden lighting. Thick carpets softened our footsteps as the attendant led us toward a set of double doors.

He tapped a golden card against the lock.

“Welcome to the Royal Jasmine Suite.”

The doors swung open.

I stopped walking.

Sophie made a strangled little noise beside me.

Our attendant stepped aside with a practiced smile.

And I stared.

The suite was enormous.

Not hotel-room enormous.

Small luxury apartment enormous.

A sunken living room occupied the center of the space, furnished with cream sofas, oversized cushions, and a polished marble table holding a fresh arrangement of flowers. Beyond it, floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened onto a private terrace overlooking the canals.

An enormous chandelier hung above the seating area, its delicate glass pieces sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.

To the left, an open dining space led toward what appeared to be a fully equipped kitchen.

To the right, two separate hallways disappeared toward our bedrooms.

And directly ahead, through the open terrace doors, I could hear the gentle sound of running water.

“Please tell me that’s another waterfall,” I whispered.

Our attendant smiled.

“The terrace has a private plunge pool with a cascading water feature, madam.”

I slowly turned toward Sophie.

“I’m never leaving.”