“No, you have not,” Khalid said in a low tone. The young man smirked back at him. “I am not having a conversation with you. I am having a conversation with the most beautiful girl I have seen in a long time.” “No. You are having a conversation with my wife. And you are quite close to having the last conversation of your life.” His voice was as cold as the edge of a dagger. Shahrzad glared at the young man. “And if you want to sell me fabric, being a lecherous bastard is not the way to go about doing it.” She shoved against his chest, hard. “Daughter of a whore,” he muttered. Khalid froze, his
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