by Marian Tee
“So what now?” Hyacinth tried to keep her voice cheerful and unsuspecting even as the food in her mouth suddenly tasted like lead. With Anisah away on another educational conference, tonight was one of the few nights they could spend together, and she had been looking forward to it for so long.
It was supposed to be romantic, starting with a private dinner in his suite, but everything was ruined now, her appetite disappearing the moment she saw that look in his eyes.
“My uncle wishes me to speak with Cecile on his behalf,” Rayyan said softly.
And he wanted to do it, she thought, because even now, he still felt guilty about the way Hyacinth had forced him to completely cut ties with her.
At her prolonged silence, the sheikh’s voice turned exasperated as he asked, “Surely you do not think we’d do anything else?”
“It’s not what you’re going to do that I’m worried about,” she muttered. “It’s how you’ll feel when you see her again---” In moments, the sheikh had left his seat at the other end of the table, and her voice broke off in a slight gasp when he lifted her up and had Hyacinth sitting on his lap.
“Remember the last time you tried arguing with me again, about wanting to call me ‘alsyd’ in public?”
“I do.” She was confused. That was just a week ago, and they had been in the sheikh’s office, with Hyacinth laughingly trying to bargain her way while she was on her knees and his cock was in her mouth. “And you said it was never going to happen,” she reminded him, “because it’s only going to make you want to fuck me in the next minute.”
“Excellent memory, anisdi.”
She scowled. “And?” Surely, that wasn’t the point at all?
“And so instead of alsyd, I suggested you think of something else to call me.”
Oh.
He smirked at the way color suddenly bloomed in her cheeks. “And what was it that you thought of?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Liar.”
“You said---”
Hyacinth quickly covered her ears. “I can’t hear anything!”
“How about I call you mine---” The sheikh burst into laughter at the way Hyacinth groaned and turned green, looking like she was absolutely sick…of herself.
“Stop reminding me of that, you jerk.” She tried to punch his shoulder even knowing she’d only end up hurting her own fist, but the sheikh caught her wrist mid-air and brought her knuckles to his lips.
“It’s true, though.” Blue eyes captured hers. “I am yours, so there is nothing for you to worry about.”
And before she could draw another breath, he was already pushing their robes to the side, and then his cock, already engorged and throbbing, was sliding inside of her, and Hyacinth could only moan, unable to believe how so easily wet she became at the first feel of his possession.
“Ride me, majamira.”
A whimper escaped her at the command even as she found herself obeying him, her fingers curving over his broad shoulders as she began to bounce on his cock.
It was ecstasy, it was heaven, it was love – and oh, oh, oh God, she just wished it could last forever. She would have given half of her life to make it last an eternity because it was only moments like this, with his cock inside of her, that she could forgot her fears.
But when it was over, it was all over, and when their gazes met, she just couldn’t make herself be the girl she used to be.
“I don’t want you to go.”
The sheikh slowly nodded. “Maehfam.” I understand. And the quiet disappointment in his gaze told her that he spoke the truth. He understood, he knew the same thing she did – and that was that she had changed.
She was no longer just a bitch in her mind.
She was a true-blue, full-fledged bitch now, with the way she was kicking someone who was already down and using Rayyan’s honor against him.
Because she loved him too much, and she was so damn scared of losing him the moment he saw Mrs. B again, she would rather have him stay with her – even if it meant making him eventually hate her.
And the rate you’re going, H, it’s only a matter of time.
Coming at the heels of Jacob Bauer’s controversial courtroom trial was another scandal that threatened to rock the foundation of the palace, with rumors spreading like wildfire of an inappropriate relationship between Sheikh Malik Al-Atassi and Kyria Markides, ward to Princess Vanna, the sheikh’s own mother, and someone everyone saw as Malik’s younger sister in all but name.
I shouldn’t be happy about this, Hyacinth thought as one salacious report after another was published, detailing the time Sheikh Malik spent in Contini, where Kyria was currently enrolled in university.
She could only imagine how much pain the other girl was in, more so now with the palace abuzz with news of Sheikh Malik’s imminent return and a Dutch heiress supposedly snaring his heart instead.
So no, you can’t be happy about this, H.
But the problem was – she was no longer the same Hyacinth she used to be.
With all the malicious tongues wagging about the almost incestuous relationship between Kyria and Sheikh Malik, it would even be more unlikely for Rayyan to ever pursue a relationship with Mrs. B., who – unlike the other couple – was actually blood related to him.
And that was why she was so happy, which only meant one thing: she really was a bitch, and all that stuff about love making people better versions of themselves were pure B.S.
All’s fair in love and war, Hyacinth reminded herself.
And so it was, with fate managing to turn things around when a short time later, Sheikh Malik, in defiance of all the expectations of the kingdom’s traditional society, declared his engagement to Kyria.
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.
Chapter 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 c
olossal 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.
He smirked down at her, asking, “Have I fucked you speechless, majamira?”
“Shut up.” She tried pushing him away, but he only laughed and hauled her close, and tears pricked her eyes when she felt his lips graze the top of her head in a tender gesture.
I love you.
The words begged to tumble past her lips, but she forced them down, knowing she had no right to say them.
It had been eight months since she had become his lover, five months since she had forced the sheikh to turn his back on the woman he still loved just when she needed him the most. And even until now, the truth of this hadn’t stopped hurting.
Every once in a while, there would be news about Jacob Bauer’s ongoing trial and house arrest as well as sightings of an increasingly miserable-looking Mrs. B., who had since taken a leave of absence from work to spare the school from the media attention.
Even though she and Rayyan had never spoken about Hyacinth’s former teacher again, she knew he was aware of Mrs. B.’s situation – just as she also knew that he blamed her for his inability to help the other woman. Rayyan had never said so, but she knew he did – how could she not when she hated herself for the same thing?
Every night, she prayed and wished for a way to say sorry for being such a bitch. Every night, she lay sleepless in her bed, trying to think of a way to make things better without having to let him go – but there was none.
And because love always turned into a tightrope when resentment festered and secrets remained unspoken, Hyacinth knew something would eventually have to give.
And so it did.
Once all guests had left, she made her way to the sheikh’s office and was surprised to find Gadi hurrying inside, an anxious look on the assistant’s face. She caught up to him just as he barreled into the sheikh, who then helped Gadi regain his balance with a concerned frown.
“Are you alright?”
“It’s Mrs. Bauer, alshaykh. I just received a call from Aisha.”
Hyacinth jerked at the mention of Aisha’s name, knowing right away that the sheikh had the undercover agent keep tabs on Mrs. B. But that’s okay, she told herself firmly. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t.
“Mr. Bauer has killed himself.”
Rayyan could feel himself turning white. “But there’s something more, isn’t there?”
“Before overdosing, he…” Gadi’s voice faltered as he tried to find the best words to describe the gruesome manner in which the man had tortured his wife.
“Just say it, dammit.”
“Mrs. Bauer is currently in the ICU, and she might…she might never be able to walk again.”
Hyacinth turned cold. Oh God. No. Oh God. No. No. No. She turned to Rayyan, desperate to assure him that she would never even think of keeping him from Mrs. B.’s side, that he could take as much time as he needed, that she would do everything to help –
But when she saw the look in his eyes, all words died in her throat.
“Don’t.” His voice was low and savage. “Don’t even think of saying one goddamn word. Don’t make me hate you more than I already despise myself.”
And then he was walking away.
She crumpled to her knees.
She wanted to cry out, but she couldn’t.
She didn’t deserve to.
This was her punishment.
Chapter Twenty
Killing two birds with one stone isn’t being a bitch. Hyacinth repeated the words over and over in hopes of convincing herself, but guilt was a tremendously powerful foe, and she felt like she had lost all right to look at herself in the mirror as she slowly typed a text to Rayyan, asking him for Sheikh Tarif’s number.
Months had passed since Kyria’s wedding and Jacob Bauer’s suicide, and much had changed. Kyria was now pregnant, Mrs. B. was in therapy, and she was still stuck in relationship limbo, sentenced to a purgatory of perfunctory nods of greeting whenever she bumped into Rayyan in the palace, memories of his lovemaking to cry over, and secret vigils of penance as she prayed one hour each day in the chapel to pay for her sins.
If the sheikh had once used the palace’s secret backdoor entrance to slip out and participate in dangerous police raids, Rayyan now employed the same strategy to keep Cecile Bauer company and personally oversee her therapy.
Right now, it was going as well as one could hope, with the older woman able to stand on her own feet. Or at least it was so according to Aisha, whom Rayyan had instructed to keep Hyacinth updated about Mrs. B.’s progress.
After pressing Send, she found herself holding her breath, waiting and hoping that maybe with this, he would take the olive branch she offered him and things could start getting back to normal.
She stared at her phone, willing it to vibrate and display the sheikh’s name.
Please. Please. Please.
She wasn’t expecting him to forgive her or anything. She knew she didn’t deserve that. But she just…she just wanted to know, to feel – there was still hope. Was that too much to ask for a bitch like her?
A short distance away from the palace, Cecile watched the sheikh enter her bed
room, a withdrawn expression on his handsome face as he read a message on his phone. Meticulous planning on the sheikh’s part ensured the media remained oblivious to his comings and goings in her house, but sometimes, she couldn’t help entertaining the thought of accidentally leaking the truth.
With just one carelessly spoken word, or one unguarded moment which the paparazzi could take photos of – and everything would change. After all, hadn’t she promised herself that she was done pretending? A lifetime doing the honorable thing had only rewarded her with the loss of her first love and a marriage to a scoundrel.
But here, with just her first willful attempt at trickery, she had already succeeded in keeping Sheikh Rayyan by her side and throwing Hyacinth out of the picture.
Cecile hastily pushed all thoughts aside as the sheikh took his usual place by her bedside, knowing that she couldn’t afford to lower her guard a single moment. “You look worried,” she commented lightly with a gesture to his iPhone. “Is it her?”
The sheikh’s nod was curt, his handsome face inscrutable. “She’s asking for Tarif’s number.”
Which was an excuse in other words, Cecile thought, to get Rayyan to speak to her again. Mustering a strained smile, she said haltingly, “I’ve told you before. Hyacinth---”
“Kafia, anisdi.” Enough, milady. “No one forced me to be here, and likewise, no one has the power to keep me from helping you.” His jaw tightened. “I just wish I had been here before that bastard could have done this to you.”
I don’t, Cecile thought. If Jacob had never tried to kill her, Rayyan wouldn’t be with her now, and that was the fundamental difference between her and the younger girl – and why she was winning.
Hyacinth should have listened to her, Cecile thought. It was never a good idea to fake things for other people’s sake. Been there, done that, and it had cost her everything.
Now, Cecile knew better.
When you wanted something – you had to be willing to do everything.