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Hal's expression turns wry. "Which is it?"
"You're just so sweet—-"
"Not exactly faint praise," he remarks with a wince, "but they're still pretty damning."
Argh!
SOBs and bitches, I have no problems dealing with, but the moment I'm faced with the prospect of breaking a nice person's heart, I'm just suddenly as useful as a headless chicken.
I look at Hal helplessly. "I'm so sorry—-"
"Does this mean I'm back in the friend zone?"
"But...you never left?"
Hal whitens, and I want to kill myself. "I'm so sorry—-" It's then I see him grin, and I realize I've been had. "Hal, you jerk!"
"Uh no, Seven. That would be you."
I laugh yet again, but I feel like crying just a little, too.
Hal is perfect.
He really is.
So why can't I just like him instead—-
"Whoa." Hal is gaping at something behind me, and I automatically turn around...and end up gaping myself.
Whoa indeed...since Sheikh Saif Al-Masri has just walked into the restaurant, and of course he immediately gets everyone talking even though none of them is aware that he's the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Huzna.
He's just that level of gorgeous, and I find myself gritting my teeth at the way some of the women are openly ogling him. I hate that I feel this way, but I can't seem to help it.
Hal touches my arm, and guilt slaps me back into my senses.
Shit!
I'm in a date with Hal, and I really need to start acting like it.
Got that, Seven?
I quickly turn around to face Hal, and in doing so I miss the way Sheikh Saif's jaw clenches at the sight of another man laying his hand on me.
"That's him, isn't it?" Hal is visibly amazed as he shakes his head.
"Who's him?" I quip.
"Not buying it," Hal says with a grin. "You always do your research about the VIPs."
That's actually true, and I used to think I was really good at it, too. But now I know otherwise, having been blindsided by Sheikh Saif's blackmailing ways.
My phone suddenly starts dancing on top of the table, and I know right away it has to be him. It can't be anyone else, especially with the way the hairs at the back of my neck have suddenly stood up.
"I know I gotta be imagining this," Hal confides in a low voice, "but it seems like Sheikh Saif's glaring at our direction."
"You're definitely imagining it," I say firmly, never mind if I can feel the sheikh's eyes presently digging at my back like he wishes he can use his gaze to bury me six feet under.
Our waiter returns to serve us our steaks, and I use the chance to take a peek at my phone.
