Arranged to be beast's wife

Malika.

It was a morning full of excitement. I am Malika, seventeen years old-the spoiled only child of my parents. I woke up to screams and thought I had failed my high school exams.

Even though I was spoiled as the only child, living in a mansion and getting anything I wanted, I was still hardworking in my studies.

I was fairly disciplined, going from school straight home.

You could say I had classmates, but no real close friends. I was a shy girl. I didn't know anything about men, boys, or love-except for the love I had for my parents.

I jumped out of bed, trembling with worry and fear, looking at my bedroom door, then glancing quickly at the wall clock-it was five in the morning.

Immediately, I threw on my robe and ran to the door, hearing screams shaking the whole mansion.

"Mom! Dad!"

I turned my head, searching for them in the hallways, only to see the maids crying their hearts out.

"Where's Mom and Dad? What happened? Someone talk to me," I barely managed to walk down the stairs.

"Can someone please answer me?" My heart started pounding, their crying and wailing felt deadly. I sensed something terrible had happened to them.

One of the maids finally spoke, her words hitting me like a truck as she wiped her tears. "May God have mercy on them. Stay strong, dear."

I didn't understand what she meant. I ran downstairs, looking for them. "Who died? Where's Dad? Where's Mom?"

That's when I heard my nanny's voice coming from behind me.

"May God rest their souls. They died in an accident, my dear, while they were on their way to get your results. The hospital and the police station called us."

I collapsed to the ground, crying my heart out, wailing for the first time in my life.

"No! Dad and Mom were my whole life! Who do I live for now? How will I go on? You're lying!"

I scrambled towards my dad's office, opened the door, and searched for him, but found no one. Like a madwoman, I ran upstairs to their room. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was a filthy nightmare.

My nanny ran after me and pulled me into her arms.

"Sweetie, don't do this to yourself. This is God's will. Calm down and pray for them."

"Dad and Mom, Nanny! I want them." I kept crying, unable to believe it.

For a moment, I thought about ending my life, but I sought God's forgiveness. I knew my parents were in heaven, and I just wanted to see them there. But how could I live without them?

"Nanny, what am I going to do? Who do I live for now? How can I go on without them?"

"I want to see them."

My nanny gently patted my shoulder. "Honey, your uncle is here and will be coming up soon. You can't go into the morgue."

I raised my head. "My uncle? Which uncle? The one who stole from Dad years ago? My oldest uncle who cut us off from the whole family and kept Dad and me away from Grandpa and Grandma just because Dad married Mom? Because he married someone not from their class and who didn't have millions?"

Yes, my oldest uncle was the head of the family. A cruel man. He made the whole family cut us off because Mom came from a middle-class background. Because, as he always said, she was a "loser." Why? Because she was the director of an orphanage and didn't take a salary. Because she didn't care about money.

"Nanny! I want to go to the funeral-and the morgue before that. I want to see them," I insisted. It was as if I'd grown up in a single moment.

The phone rang. One of the maids answered, then started crying again.

From upstairs, I looked down in confusion. My heart was already in pieces.

"What is it, Manal?" I asked.

"You passed."

"You got first place in the whole high school."

Of course, the news meant nothing now.

"What difference does it make?" I said, feeling lost. Until I heard a strange man's voice say,

"It makes a big difference, my niece. I wouldn't let my son marry you if you were a failure."

At first, I thought I was hallucinating, losing my mind from shock. I looked down and saw a strong man, his eyes showing just how heartless he was. He was imposing and scary.

"Who are you?" I asked, but deep down I knew-he looked just like my late father, only older, but his face was marked with anger.

"I'm your eldest uncle."

"What do you want from me? And what marriage are you talking about? Get out of my house." It was the first time I'd ever talked back. I remembered the tears I'd seen in Dad's eyes when he said he missed his family and wished he could see them.

I repeated myself, "I said, get out of our house."

My uncle shouted in a way that made me freeze.

"How dare you talk to me like that! Your father didn't raise you right, but I will. Me and my son."

"Get out. Get out. Get ouuuuut!" I screamed like a madwoman, running down to face him as if he was the one who'd killed Mom and Dad. But then I felt a slap so hard it nearly knocked me to the ground, if not for one of the maids catching me. I looked up and saw a very handsome, tall young man with blue eyes and thick, soft black hair. He was wearing a stunning suit, his muscles visible through his shirt and from the hand that had just left a mark on my face.

He yelled at me, gritting his teeth. "I'm the one who's going to teach you manners for talking to my father that way. Who do you think you are? You're nothing. Your father was in debt to everyone, and if it weren't for our family's reputation, we would've let you beg on the streets."

His words were terrifying, and I was about to call him a liar-but then I remembered that Dad had told me to study hard because he didn't want me to end up in a private university. I remembered overhearing him negotiating to sell the villa at the coast, the one Mom loved, and when I asked him, he said, "I'll get you a better one soon."

"What do you want from me? Let me beg, then," I said, looking into my uncle's and cousin's eyes.

For a moment, I thought my uncle felt pity. He sighed and came closer.

"I can't, unfortunately. You're my brother's daughter! You're still young."

Like an idiot, I replied sarcastically, "You're probably happy he's dead. You stole from him and kept the family away from him."

My cousin raised his hand again to hit me, but this time I covered my face. My uncle stopped him with his words.

"Your mother was a dancer! A dancer, going from bar to bar and cabaret to cabaret! You don't know anything."

"You're a liar!" I shouted at my uncle. This time, my cousin grabbed me by the hair.

"Listen, I can't stand you. I wasn't even okay with marrying you, but now, I swear to God, I will. I'll teach you respect! You're probably just like your mother."

"Get your hands off me, you creep! Who do you think you are?" I tried to push his hand off my hair like he was my enemy.

Suddenly, he pulled my face close to his, glaring at me.

"I'm Mazen Gamal! I'm the one who will teach you respect! I'll make you wish for death!"

He shoved me to the ground and looked at me from head to toe.

"You have one hour to pack your things and get ready to come to our house. And be ready-our wedding is next week. I'll have you examined before the wedding."

Of course, I stammered in shock. "What wedding? What exam? My parents just died! Are you insane?"

He moved closer, grinding his teeth like a beast.

"You know what? One more word from you and I'll come at you like men used to in the old days!" I had no idea what he meant, but it sounded terrifying.

Despite how elegant he looked-and the fact that we were from an aristocratic family-his words were savage. In the end, it was his father who saved me from him.

"Mazen, go easy on her. I told you to marry her because I won't let my brother's daughter end up homeless. But not to humiliate her."

My uncle reached out and pulled me into a hug.

"Sweetheart, you're still young. I have to protect you. One day you'll understand that my heart is in the right place."

But Mazen threw in one last threat with a sneer.

"If I find out you're not a virgin, I'll kill you on our wedding night."

I slapped him across the face, and that was the beginning of my end. Little did I know back then that he was the Mafia king!

Mazen Gamal.

I was coming back at dawn from a wild night out, drunk as usual. I had taken a beautiful girl home with me to keep the party going. I was so wasted I could barely see straight; and, of course, she was just like all the others-not exactly an innocent girl, but that's exactly what I wanted: someone to help me unwind after a long day running between companies and factories.

Since graduating college, I've been managing the entire family business with my dad. Even while I was getting my MBA, I was running the whole group-yeah, we're talking billions. Our work covers everything from detergent factories to steel and iron plants.

To put it simply, our family is the richest in the country-and the Arab world.

We used to invest the princes' and kings' money, and my pictures were always on newspapers and magazines.

They called me "the most successful and handsome businessman."

My life was a nonstop blur of work all day, then partying and drinking after midnight. If I felt like it, I'd take any woman I wanted home, even if she was married. I'd let my desires run wild. Yeah, every woman has her price.

I'm a guy who likes to indulge, and women were all around me, all wanting to be with me-but honestly, none of them meant anything to me.

I was naïve when I was younger. I thought maybe I'd find someone who would love me for who I really am. I thought love was a real thing. I thought there were actually decent girls out there.

That was until I saw the girl I loved in the arms of my best friend. My "friends," to be exact.

She had played the role of the innocent, virtuous girl-she was a great actress, I'll give her that.

That was seven years ago.

"Where are you, Mazen?" my best friend Ahmed, my close buddy from college, called me.

"Sorry, man, I can't make it tonight. I'm swamped with work with my dad." And that was the truth-I'd just graduated two months ago, and my dad was determined to make me one of the top businessmen within the year.

"Bro, you're missing out on some amazing girls. There's a couple you'll definitely like. Anyway, I'm taking them to the Ain Sokhna chalet. Try to make it. The drive's less than an hour." Ahmed was a devil-he always knew how to tempt me.

"I'll see, Ahmed. Who's with you from the crew?"

"Tamer, Hany, and El-Shenawy. I'll be waiting for you, Mazooon." Ahmed hung up, hoping I'd show up.

We were a tight group-all sons of businessmen-always together. But when I fell for Dina, I never told any of them about her, not even her name. I genuinely loved her and saw her as my future wife, wanted to protect her. I didn't even tell my friends about the engagement-the next day was my engagement party.

I was planning on surprising everyone with the angel I would marry.

Anyway, I finished work and decided to go for a bit. In less than 45 minutes, I was in Ain Sokhna.

As soon as I arrived, I walked into the shock of my life. Dina and a friend of hers were naked in bed, and all my friends were naked too.

And, of course, it was obvious what had just happened.

I hit her, insulted her, and threw her out, naked, like a dog. My heart was breaking. If my friends hadn't held me back, I would have killed her and buried her right there.

Since that day, I've hated all women. To me, they became nothing more than insects for me to crush under my feet.

Back to this weird day.

That dawn felt strange. I was drunk and out of it when my dad called me on my cell. I answered right away because he never calls me at that hour. I thought something might have happened to Mom.

"Yeah, Dad? Did something happen? Tell me, are you okay? Is Mom okay?" I asked, panicking, so much so that I moved away from the girl next to me. I sobered up instantly.

My parents were my whole world, even though I was twenty-nine.

"No, son, we're fine, but..." Dad stopped, his voice sad and choked. I'd never heard him sound like that before.

"Dad... what's wrong?" I asked, swallowing nervously, my anxiety spiking.

"Your uncle-my younger brother-he's dead." Suddenly Dad blurted it out, sounding like he was about to cry.

"My uncle? How? When? Are you okay?" My only concern was for my dad.

"An accident," Dad sighed.

I knew Dad had been hard on his brother, but I didn't know how much he loved him.

But Dad isn't the type to cry or talk about his feelings. He's always been a rock-strong and mysterious.

"Mazen, please come with me to the morgue. My brother and his wife died in the accident, and I can't bear to see them like this alone. Please, son."

For the first time, my dad was begging me.

Jamal Al-Homsany, known for his authority, his power, and his heart of stone.

"Okay. Okay, I'll come right now." I hung up quickly and left the girl in the street in her skimpy dress after giving her a thousand pounds.

I jumped into my Ferrari and floored it, flying down the road at 280 kph. When I got to the mansion, Dad was waiting for me. For the first time in my life, I saw him cry. He was devastated.

"Dad! Are you okay?" I was honestly in shock.

"No, Mazen. But I need you for something important. If you love me, you have to agree. Please."

"Dad, whatever you want, I'll do it." I went to him quickly-he was truly broken.

"I want you to marry your cousin-God rest her father's soul."

His words stunned me. As much as it hurt to refuse, I just said no, without even giving myself a chance to think or hear his reasons. "No way! Absolutely not."

Dad came closer and put his hand on my shoulder. "I have to keep my family together. She's my brother's only daughter, and she's just seventeen, Mazen. Please."

"But Dad... she's family, and I don't even know her..." I was calm but confused.

I decided to go along with him for now and talk about it later, so I answered smartly, "Let me think about it. Now, let's go to the morgue."

We went to the morgue. Money can make anything happen quickly. It was such a painful situation that even I cried.

I'd never seen my uncle, but my dad's tears got to me.

If I'd known how much he loved his brother, I would've tried to reconcile them before.

Anyway, we finished everything with a few thousand, got the burial permit, and quietly buried them in the family cemetery. Dad said it was more important to go see their daughter Malika than to tell the rest of the family what happened.

His heart was with her.

When I went, I was shocked by her sharp tongue, her rudeness, her shamelessness, and the way she spoke to my dad.

I found myself treating her terribly-I slapped her face and shoved her to the ground.

I might have felt sorry for her if she hadn't cursed me and my dad again.

She was challenging me, and I hate anyone who tries to stand up to me.

I found myself telling her I'd marry her next week, that I'd check her virginity, and if she wasn't a virgin, I'd kill her.

She was so bold, strong, and stubborn.

And suddenly, for the first time in his life, Mazen Gamal got slapped across the face by a girl-and not just any girl! 18-year-old!

Mazen Gamal.

I stood there for a few minutes, stunned by what Malika had just done. I couldn't believe she actually had the guts to slap me across the face. This tiny little girl!

I glared at her, grinding my teeth and breathing hard through my nose. I even forgot my dad was there, until he grabbed my arm and said, "Mazen, what are you doing? She's just a kid."

"Let me handle this, Dad. She needs to be put in her place-she's out of line." I yanked my arm free and stepped toward her. She started backing away like a scared little hedgehog.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Scared now? You haven't seen anything yet. I swear to God, I'll break that hand of yours." I wasn't just threatening her-I actually meant it. I was about to go through with it, when suddenly she collapsed to the floor.

At first, I thought she was faking, just like Dina used to do. I yelled at her, mocking, "Get up and stop acting. I know you're just doing this so I won't hit you, but I'm not going to let you off."

I leaned closer and yelled again, "Get up!" When she didn't answer, it pissed me off even more. I reached for her arm to pull her up, and realized she was ice cold. That threw me off for a second-I didn't know what to do.

Then Dad said, "Don't do this. Isn't it enough that my brother died without forgiving me?"

I didn't know if I felt bad for my dad or for her.

Without thinking, I picked her up in my arms. My cheek brushed hers as I adjusted her, and I felt her whole body trembling. "Dad, go ahead and get home first," I said quietly as I carried her up the stairs.

"Mazen, don't you dare hurt her, son. I'll never forgive you-swear on your uncle's soul," Dad said, his words weighing on me. Honestly, I'd suddenly calmed down toward her, but I couldn't deny that if she hadn't fainted, I would have torn her apart.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll wake her up and bring her home with me once I'm sure she's okay." And that was my honest intention.

Dad put his hand on my shoulder and asked, "Promise me, Mazen."

I smiled and sighed, "I promise, on your life and Mom's." That reassured him, and he quietly went ahead of me.

I totally forgot that I had brought Dad in my car. He must have called the driver or taken a taxi.

The girl's condition was strange, honestly. My mind flashed back to burying her parents, remembering they'd just died. I felt really sorry for her.

She was like a butterfly in my arms. For a moment, I felt like I was carrying an angel. But I snapped myself out of it, reminding myself that I'd never met a good woman in my life.

I carried her up to her room after asking the servants where it was. I laid her gently on the bed and looked around. It was literally a little girl's room.

Sure, they were rich and lived in a mansion, but her bed was tiny, barely big enough for her. She's not exactly big herself, but still-why would a rich girl sleep in such a small bed? And everything was pink. I almost laughed at all the teddy bears and dolls everywhere. What really caught my eye, though, was the bookshelf-an incredible library, full of books.

Anyway, I sat down next to her on the bed, looked at her face, and told the housekeeper, "Bring her some water to drink." Then I heard her voice-she was still unconscious, but mumbling, "Dad, Mom, don't leave me. Take me with you." She started crying.

I instinctively hugged her, my heart aching at her words. "Dad, come on, Dad. I got first place in high school, just like I promised."

"Dad, come. I'll work and help you."

I held her close, patting her gently. I nearly crushed her against my chest. Her words hurt me. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Her lips were blue and her body was shaking. The housekeeper came in with the water, and I quickly took the glass from her. I poured some on my hand and wiped her face. I was really scared for her.

"Call a doctor. Now," I told the housekeeper, not even looking at her.

"The family doctor, or...?" she started to ask.

I snapped, "I said now!"

I tried to wake Malika up-her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling. Suddenly, I found myself leaning closer to her, drawn in by something I couldn't explain. Next thing I knew, I was kissing her trembling lips.

I jerked back as soon as Malika opened her eyes and stared at me in shock.

She stammered, "What are you doing?"

Even I didn't know why or how I'd done it.

But it definitely wasn't the alcohol, and it wasn't just because she was beautiful. She was, honestly, but she was different. She wasn't wearing anything revealing. But her body was clearly something else-curves in all the right places. Not pale, not dark-sort of honey-colored skin, with big eyes. Not a trace of makeup on her face. Thick lashes, and her eyes were blue, just like mine-definitely family genetics. Honestly, there was nothing wrong with how she looked.

Still, I had no idea what made me kiss her.

Trying to play it off, I said, "What am I doing? Are you okay?" I put my hand on her forehead, like I was checking for a fever.

She swallowed and pulled the blanket up over herself. "I don't know. I just feel sick."

I tried to lighten the mood. "You're sick. I told the housekeeper to call the doctor. Still, that doesn't change the fact that you were saying some crazy stuff... and you hit me." I tried to joke.

"I want to die." That shocked me.

I raised my eyebrows, not sure if I should comfort her, apologize, or just start yelling again.

I tried to change the subject-honestly, I was curious. "Are all those books yours?"

She started crying.

I sat beside her and patted her shoulder. "Okay, calm down. I'm sorry."

It was the first time in years I'd said the word "sorry" to anyone. I surprised myself.

She wiped her tears and said quietly, "They're mine and my dad's. We used to go to the book fair every year together, since I was six. There are exactly 3,476 books in that library."

I straightened up, looking at her as she spoke. "You've read all of them?"

She nodded slowly. "All of them."

I was impressed.

Sure, I'm a successful businessman, a voracious reader, and cultured, but I haven't read that many books yet.

She swallowed hard, pointing at the water glass. I realized she was thirsty and handed it to her. She drank, then thanked me softly. "Thanks, but..."

She was starting to feel better and tried to get up. I helped her, holding her hands. "But you deserved that slap."

My eyes widened. "Me?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Because you're rude and disrespectful. You think all girls are like the ones you know, and you think you can force me to marry you. There's no way I'd ever marry someone like you-a brute and...."

This time, I "hit" her, but with my lips. I grabbed her head with my right hand, pulled her waist with my left, and kissed her hard, even though she was fully awake. She started hitting me, trying to push me away, but I kept kissing her until she kneed me between the legs with all her strength.

"You're crazy!" The pain was intense.

Suddenly, books started flying at my face, my head, my shoulders, my stomach-everywhere. "Get out! You brute, you jerk, you lowlife!"

"I'll show you. I swear on my mother, I'll marry you!" Now it was a challenge.

I liked her, but I also wanted to prove to myself she was just like the rest. I was convinced that after we got married I'd find out she wasn't really decent or anything.

As I was leaving the room, my eyes landed on her phone. I grabbed it-figured I'd find all sorts of dirt. Photos of her in nightgowns, pictures with guys, dirty messages.

She jumped up and tried to grab her phone. "Give me my phone! I hate you!"

I held her back with one hand, holding both her wrists as I searched through the phone.

But there was nothing. No indecent pictures-just photos of her with her friends in school uniforms, pictures with her late mom and dad, and childish messages with her girlfriends.

I smirked. "I'm sure I'll find guys' names and a ton of numbers."

She screamed, "Let go of me! I hate you!"

Not a single guy's name. All girls.

Then I found a contact labeled "My Love." I knew it-she had a boyfriend.

"I'm going to call him and find out if he's slept with you," I mocked.

Her reply shocked me. "He won't answer."

Sarcastically, I said, "Of course, he probably dumped you after he got what he wanted..."

I didn't get to finish. She cut me off, tears streaming down her face, "He won't answer because he's dead. 'My love'-that's my dad."