"I prefer the quiet ones. This one will do." He stepped forward, shoving Leila harshly to the ground. "Dress her up and send her to my room. Immediately."
A horrified gasp escaped Nasrin as she sprang forward, positioning herself protectively between Shapour and Leila. "My lord, please!" she implored, her voice thick with desperation. "She's just a child—you cannot touch her!"
Shapour's face twisted in disdain, his voice rising with irritation. "Do I look like I care?" He shoved Nasrin aside with force that sent her stumbling backward, drawing his sword from its sheath in a menacing arc. The other women began to step forward, but his glare froze them in place. "If anyone else dares question me, I'll have their head. My orders are clear: dress the girl and take her to my room."
At his command, two guards that were behind him moved swiftly, seizing Leila roughly, their hands like iron shackles around her slender arms. She flinched, shrinking from their touch, a small whimper escaping her lips as she cried out, "No, please…" Her voice, though faint, caught Shapour's attention, and he turned sharply, eyebrows raised, fixing Nasrin with a piercing stare as he leveled the sword at her.
"Didn't you claim she was mute?"
Nasrin's heart pounded as Shamar, her voice trembling, stepped forward. "My lord, I beg you, put the sword away," she pleaded, her eyes glancing at the other women in silent solidarity. "We may be mere courtesans, but we are under the shah's protection."
A cold smirk twisted Shapour's lips.
"The shah's protection means little here, the shah isn't here at the moment, and it would be my word against yours, who would believe dirty women like yourselves?" he sneered, his gaze unwavering. "As the governor's son, I can afford a slap on the wrist. But you…" His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "You would be dead."
The tension in the bathhouse was thick as the door burst open once again, and Madam Baran swept in with a sharp gaze. Her face was drawn into a tight scowl, and her eyes flicked quickly over her girls. Word had reached her that trouble had broken out in one of the quieter sections of her Glory House, especially since the customers weren't allowed in the area.
What she hadn't expected was that the commotion's cause would be none other than Shapour. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she took him in, the infamous son of the governor, known for his reckless indulgences, and jumping from the arms of one woman into the laps of another… like a frog.
She took a slow breath, maintaining her composure as she bowed her head respectfully.
"My lord," she greeted, though her voice held a subtle edge. "The parlor would be a far more fitting place for a gentleman such as yourself than here in this… humble setting."
Shapour's eyes gleamed with drunken defiance as he lowered his sword and staggered toward her. "Ah, perfect timing, Madam Baran," he sneered, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "Tell me, what do you think of the service I've been receiving lately? Is this your idea of hospitality?"
Her face betrayed no hint of irritation, but she still managed to be polite. "If anything has been lacking to your taste, my lord," she replied smoothly, "I will do everything within my power to correct it." She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the way her courtesans quickly pulled their robes tighter around them, while Leila, visibly frightened, drew her veil low over her face.
Shapour let out a cold chuckle and snapped his fingers in annoyance. "I asked for one of the girls to serve me, yet they refused. Have I earned such disgrace that even courtesans feel they can deny me?" His voice grew sharp, his eyes blazing as he glanced from face to face.
Madam Baran's gaze hardened, her eyes moving over the cowering figures of her courtesans before settling back on Shapour.
"These girls are not working today, my lord," Madam Baran said in a steady voice, attempting to defuse the situation. "If you wish, you may choose from the other courtesans available in the parlor."
Shapour's face twisted in irritation, his eyes darting back to Leila, who had shrunk behind her veil, trying to disappear from his view. "I don't want those girls. I want this one," he demanded, pointing forcefully at Leila, his voice a low, angry rumble.
Madam Baran held his gaze firmly, then inclined her head in a bow to show respect. "I must apologize, my lord, but I cannot allow that. This girl you've singled out—she is not a courtesan."
Shapour's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"The girl is my niece," Madam Baran explained smoothly, never faltering. "She is here merely to visit me. I keep her away during work hours, but it seems she slipped in for a bath with some of the girls who are not currently on duty." She glared at Leila, who was clearly trembling, her veil pulled low. A faint sigh of relief rippled through the other women; they were silently grateful that Madam Baran had taken a firm stand to protect Leila.
Shapour's anger smoldered, but before he could protest further, Madam Baran pressed on, a note of firmness creeping into her voice. "With all due respect, my lord, your presence here is also against the house's rules. Though this is indeed a pleasure house, order must be maintained if we are to remain respectable. If every guest behaved in this manner, we would have no safe or orderly environment in which to conduct business. Surely, as the governor's son, you would want us to uphold the standards of hospitality?"
Her words hung in the air, carrying a weight of authority. Shapour scowled but found himself with little room to argue.
Shapour's face was taut with displeasure, his fists clenched as he glared at the women before him. His anger wasn't fueled by their defiance or their attempts to lecture him on propriety; rather, it was the frustrating realization that they were barring him from the girl he desired. She was a vision—unlike any he had encountered. Her skin seemed flawless, almost ethereal, and her dark hair cascaded like a night sky across her shoulders. But it was her eyes—vivid green, like the fabled waters of the goddess's lake—that captivated him, drawing him with a mesmerizing allure.
A low growl escaped his lips and without another word, he spun on his heels and stormed out, leaving the women behind, hearts racing and breaths ragged as they waited in silence until his footsteps faded.
As the tense silence lingered, Madam Baran finally released a furious shout, her gaze snapping toward the guards stationed at the doorway. "Who allowed that mad animal in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting. The guards, silent and chastened, lowered their heads, unable to explain.
Then she turned to Nasrin, her eyes blazing as she noticed the fresh bruise scarring Nasrin's face. "And you, look at what he did to your face!" she snapped, her voice radiated her rage. "You're one of our finest performers, Nasrin. Do you think men will want to embrace with an injury like that?"
"I'm sorry, Madam Baran," Nasrin whispered, her voice barely audible as she kept her head lowered, avoiding the madam's scathing gaze.
Madam Baran's sharp eyes moved swiftly from Nasrin to Leila, her tone icy as she snapped, "And you!" Her voice cut through the room, making Leila jolt in place, her small frame trembling. "This is the last time I want to see you in here. You bring trouble wherever you go."
"I'm sorry, Madam Baran," Leila pleaded, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to cause any harm. Please… don't send me away." She cast a pleading look toward the madam, desperate to stay in the only place that had given her shelter.
Madam Baran's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Unless you want me to inform the shah's guards," she said, her voice dropping to a low, mocking tone, "I suggest you heed my words. With a face and body like yours, I doubt the shah would refuse my request to keep you. A beautiful virgin—well, that's rare and highly prized these days." Her smirk widened, enjoying the flash of fear in Leila's eyes.
"No, Madam Baran!" one of the other girls spoke up, horror etched in her face as the others joined in. "You can't do that to her!"
Madam Baran raised her hand, silencing them with a glare. "That's why I'm giving her the chance to leave now and never return," she snapped. Her steely gaze locked onto Leila's, and Leila blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Madam Baran cut her off.
"Leave. Now!" she barked.