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Perhaps his ways were the right ways, Maggie pondered, because she could barely contemplate packing her clothes, let alone attempting to run a country when her mind was so mired by them.
‘I can’t imagine being back at the hostel,’ she admitted as she turned around and faced him.
‘You shan’t be going back there,’ Ilyas said, but his voice came out too harsh. ‘I am taking you back to the palace with me. But first we need to speak about what went on between you and Hazin.’
‘Are you saying you still don’t believe me?’ She frowned at his narrowed gaze. ‘Do you still think there’s a tape that might come out?’
‘You are to tell me what went on.’
‘Ilyas?’ She felt her temper building. ‘I didn’t sleep with your brother, or do you think it was fake blood on my thigh...?’
‘Clearly you didn’t sleep with him,’ Ilyas snapped, and then he reminded himself of his status. He was not about to let his judgement be clouded just because he had slept with her. ‘But that does not get you off the hook—there are other ways to give pleasure, and I would expect them to send a virgin to lure him...’
She went to slap him.
Maggie did not condone violence, not in any way, shape or form, but neither would she stand there while the man who had taken her virginity practically called her a whore.
He caught her hand.
‘I really wouldn’t recommend slapping the crown prince,’ he warned as his fingers tightened around her wrist and halted her hand’s angry progression.
So she slapped him with her free hand instead.
He didn’t even flinch. If anything, it was Maggie who flinched at the sound of her hand hitting his flesh.
‘You want to play that game?’ Ilyas checked.
‘No...’ she answered, suddenly nervous.
‘Then know this—if youeverslap me again, I shall put you straight over my knee and show you how it’s done properly! I shall return the favour so hard that you will be asking for an ice bucket to sit on for the flight home.’
His words hit home, for at the reminder she would be leaving her features moved from defiant to crestfallen, but he misinterpreted the change.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Ilyas said, and dropped her wrist. ‘Maggie, what happened in that cabin? What is it you cannot tell me?’
Hell, yes, it mattered.
Not just that she might have been sent there to lure his brother, and not even for what might have taken place.
It mattered now because Ilyas cared more than he should for Maggie, and he knew now that it was jealousy that tore up his chest.
‘We were talking,’ Maggie said, and gave an uncomfortable shrug. ‘About feelings.’
‘That cannot be right. Hazin doesn’t talk about such things...’
‘Perhaps not to an emotional desert like you!’ Maggie shouted.
He didn’t match her tone, but his voice was low and ominous in return. ‘What was he saying?’ Ilyas demanded, for he could not stand not knowing a second longer. ‘Maggie, game over, you are to tell me, so whatever it is, whatever has happened, I can best deal with it.’
‘I told him I was low about my mother. That it was the anniversary of her death and he opened up...’
‘Please.’ Ilyas shook his head, wondering even now if her story about her childhood was true. Perhaps she had been angling to get his brother to provide a shoulder to cry on as a way to seduce him? Ilyas knew for a fact it would never have worked and he told her why. ‘My brother does not bend to sob stories.’
‘No, he doesn’t!’ Maggie flared. ‘He’s rather refreshing, in fact. He told me I was better off without family.’ She was through covering for the al-Razims, or for anyone else for that matter. ‘He said he hopes his father does disinherit him...’
Ilyas fell silent as he suddenly realised why Hazin would not want the tapes to get out, but Maggie had not finished turning the knife.
‘And it wasn’t a sob story I gave him,’ she cried. ‘I was just saying that it was a hard day and he got it, he said that he loathed anniversaries...’
