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Hyacinth genuinely wished the couple happiness, but as she watched the palace staff fall over itself in their frantic preparations for a surprise royal wedding, the sinking feeling in her stomach just got worse and worse.
Fuck.
You’re so fucked, H, because you’re such a bitch.
And now fate’s teaching you a lesson.
Nineteen
As Kyria and Malik’s fairytale wedding came to a picture-perfect finish, with the sheikh bending his bride backwards in a passionate kiss, Rayyan took advantage of everyone’s distraction to make his way to someone who had done her skillful best to avoid him for the larger part of the day.
He found her working in the background, deep in discussion with one of the event coordinators, and while he waited for them to finish talking, Rayyan made a cursory study of their surroundings. Mm. That could work.
As soon the event coordinator turned her back, he made his move, cupping Hyacinth’s elbow and drawing her into the narrow hallway behind her. She glanced up, eyes wide when she saw him, and as her lips parted, Rayyan placed a finger over her lips.
Hyacinth’s heart skipped a beat at the uncharacteristically humorous gesture, and the wicked gleam in his blue eyes had her mesmerized.
Miss me?
She automatically nodded. Of course she did. She always did, even if they had only been away from each other for hours.
A sly smile curved over the sheikh’s lips. Follow me then. He began walking backwards, and her feet automatically moved like a marionette would obey a puppet master’s commands.
He was just so, so beautiful, Hyacinth thought, half in hopeless despair, half in wistful longing. As he was one of Malik’s groomsmen, Rayyan had made a moderate effort to tame his ash blond locks in a casual, slicked-back style that she knew for a fact had just caused a global meltdown on Twitter. Enthralled female fans had likened the sheikh to a silver-haired David Beckham, but a hundred times more desirable since he was a bachelor prince.
Or so all of you think, Hyacinth thought grumpily. He was a prince, yes, but he was not single. He was hers, and the sheikh himself had said so, dammit!
At the end of the hallway was an unmarked door, and following the sheikh inside, she absently marveled at just how incredibly colossal Ramil’s royal palace was. Even though she had already lived here for almost fifteen years, this room was just one of the many places that she had never stepped a foot in –
AH!
The sheikh suddenly had her up against the door, blue eyes blazing down at her.
Shit.
One look at his too-beautiful face, and she remembered too late that there was a reason she had been missing him.
“Umm, I can explain.”
“Is that so?”
Prior to the wedding, Hyacinth had “accidentally” let slip to Kyria that Yuki Himura and his fiancée Katerina Chariot had come to the wedding, and that Malik had wanted to keep this a secret.
She made a face. “It’s your fault, really. You should have just told me—-”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you anything,” he said evenly, “and you know it.”
Shit.
She did know that, and Hyacinth acknowledged the truth in his words with a grimace. “Yeah, I know,” she muttered, “And I’m sorry.”
“How sorry?”
Fifteen minutes later, and Hyacinth was the first one to leave the stockroom, cheeks flushed, body humming with pleasure, and fighting against the urge to lick her lips for one last taste of the sheikh’s cum in her mouth.
God, how she loved that man!
But once the dancing started, her thoughts immediately swung to the opposite direction even as she forced herself to face the consequences of her actions. As punishment for her unnecessary interference, Rayyan wanted her to suffer the sight of the sheikh dancing with one woman after another, all of them practically mirror images of his former mistress, Jemima Black.
When the orchestra played its final song for the first set, the sheikh moved to the opposite side of the dance floor before taking his phone out and sending Hyacinth a text message.
Rayyan: You were close to giving yourself away earlier, majamira.
Hyacinth: Shut up. She was grabbing your butt. What did you want me to do? Clap my hands and shout YOU GO, GIRL?
Rayyan: You know what to do if you want things to change.
Hyacinth glowered at the phone. Yeah right, like that was going to happen. Lately, the sheikh had become increasingly vocal in his desire to make their relationship public, but how the hell could she do that, knowing what she had turned into?
Hyacinth: Powder room next to Balcony 6 in ten minutes.
She had already perched herself on the marble counter when the sheikh arrived, and as soon as he had locked the door behind him, she said imperiously, “Your turn.”
“As milady commands,” the sheikh purred.
And then he proceeded to turn her world around several times over, the pleasure of his mouth sucking on her pussy so devastating that by the time he straightened to his full height, she couldn’t even speak, could only pant as she tried to catch her breath.
