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What the fuck?
Four
A one-hour interval between the end of school and the start of her work allowed Hyacinth a quick shower before heading for the finance department, fresh-faced and dressed appropriately in a dark blue abaya. Her only concession to the modern ages was ditching the headdress and letting her dark tresses stream behind her back.
Gadi was already waiting at the lobby when she arrived, and the sheikh’s PA seemed to transform into the Bard’s reincarnation as he introduced the department’s newest intern. He showered Hyacinth with a litany of praises, making sure to emphasize her stellar academic records and involvement in a long list of extracurricular activities and charity work.
The girl thanked him sweetly in her soft, lovely voice, and the words were more than enough for Gadi to continually fight against blushing while he gave Hyacinth a full tour of the department.
How exquisite Hyacinth Kahveci’s manners were, Gadi thought reverently. While working for the sheikh had allowed him to meet all sorts of princesses and aristocratic ladies, not one of them could hold a candle to the beautiful way this girl conducted herself.
It was no wonder the sheikh had chosen Hyacinth to be his woman, and now the only thing to be seen was how soon Hyacinth could get rid of all the Jemima Blacks that persisted in seeking the sheikh’s attention.
From the privacy of his office, Rayyan watched in amusement as Gadi unconsciously rolled out the red-carpet treatment for Hyacinth. He knew full well that the younger man had no idea he was only making Hyacinth’s employment suspicious, but even so, the sheikh simply let nature run its course.
Life had been boring of late, Rayyan mused, and Hyacinth Kahveci was just the thing to shake things up a bit.
Hyacinth kept her smile in place as Gadi bowed before retreating to pull the doors of the sheikh’s private office closed. But as soon as she was certain Gadi was well out of earshot, she whirled around and marched straight to the sheikh’s massive desk.
“Sabah alzuhr, anisdi.” Good afternoon, milady.
But the girl only planted her hands on her waist, asking pointedly, “Why didn’t you tell me Mrs. B.’s your cousin?”
“If that’s how you normally treat your lover, you have much to learn.”
The sheikh’s lazy tone irritated the heck out of her, but what pissed Hyacinth even more was her body’s involuntary response to the sound. It was almost like she was thrilled by it.
And God help her if that was so, Hyacinth thought.
Looking up, she saw the sheikh rising to his full height, and Hyacinth couldn’t help but back up a step when he started for her.
Seeing her retreat, the sheikh stilled in surprise, asking, “Are you afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Then—-”
The sheikh took another step closer towards her, but try as she might, Hyacinth couldn’t help backing another step.
Blue eyes narrowed at her. “If you’re not afraid...”
“I told you,” she said fiercely. “I’m not afraid of you—-”
“Then it must be something else.”
Shit.
She should have let her pride go to hell instead and lied about being afraid of him.
“Actually—-” She saw understanding dawn visibly on the sheikh’s too handsome face.
Shit, shit, shit!
“You’re right!” Hyacinth desperately burst into speech, hoping there was still time to turn things around. “I am—-”
The sheikh threw his dark head back with a low, sexy laugh that rippled down her spine like a caress, and her words died.
Too late.
I’m too late, Hyacinth thought, and now I’m dead.
When she stole a look at the sheikh, it was to see the damn man still grinning, and she muttered, “I hate you.”
But this only made the sheikh’s grin widen. “No. You don’t.”
Hyacinth seriously wondered if running head first into a wall was enough to give her amnesia. Because right now, she was tempted to give up half of her life just to do over the last ten minutes.
Anything was better than the reality of having Rayyan Al-Atassi stare at her with those smirking blue eyes of his, knowing that he knew –
“How did it even happen?”
Hyacinth’s face burst with color. Damn sheikh. Damn him. Damn Rayyan Al-Atassi. No doubt he was just asking this because he knew it would make her feel even more stupid and horrified.
“Could it be a delayed effect of Stockholm syndrome?” the sheikh inquired.
“I thought that, too,” Hyacinth muttered, unable to lie.
“But it doesn’t seem like it,” the sheikh translated shrewdly. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Hyacinth shrugged.
“Then if that’s not the reason for your current state...”
Should she feel relieved that was how the sheikh was putting it? Her current state, which meant what? He believed this “state” could still change? Oh dear God, she hoped so, too.
“Then...” Rayyan’s tone turned solemn. “Could it be my face?”
Her teeth began to gnash. Oh, the sheer gall of this guy!
“No?”
“No!”
Rayyan’s lips pressed together at the way the girl practically spat the word out. “I’m simply trying to get to the bottom of things,” he pointed out mildly. “There’s no need to sound defensive.”
