In less than five minutes, we’re on the street and a limousine—identical to the one I shared with the Sheikh—is waiting for us.
I get into the car, fasten my seatbelt, and look out the window.
Zarif remains silent for a while, then he says, “You seem like a good girl, Madeline, so I’ll give you some advice: don’t fall in love with Kamal. Or any of us, for that matter.”
I face him. “I have no intention of falling in love with your brother. In fact, not with any member of your family.”
“Then what was that inside?”
“Temporary insanity.”
He seems like he’s going to ask more but changes the subject. “Who was the ex-girlfriend you mentioned?”
“I have no idea, but she said your brother wasted no time in replacing her.”
“Redhead?”
“Yes.”
“Danna Spencer-Harris.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business.”
“It shouldn’t be your business because, in theory, you’re just my brother’s assistant, but it’s obvious that it’s become your business.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No problem. Just don’t forget what I told you. If you ever decide to get involved with Kamal, remember that contrary to how he may seem, he won’t change his mind. The one-month deadline he imposes on his girlfriends is never extended. At least, it hasn’t been to this day. My brother puts on a Western façade, but he’s very traditional. He’ll only marry someone from our country.”
I look out the window again, feeling stupid for playing the role I promised I wouldn’t— just another fangirl among the Sheikh’s harem.
However, I still have time to fix this mess and keep my pride and my heart intact.
Zarif doesn’t say another word, and I’m very grateful for that.
Twenty minutes later, we park in front of my building.
The driver opens the door for me, but the prince gets out first. When I step out, I see two other vehicles with security guards, in a smaller group than the ones accompanying the Sheikh.
He follows me to the building’s entrance. “Will you be alright?”
“I survived my mother, Your Highness. I can handle almost anything.”
“Almost?”
I shrug. “Everyone has a weak spot.”
“You’re right. Just don’t let yours be my brother.”
I nod. “Thank you for bringing me,” I say and enter the building without looking back.
In the elevator, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Nothing in my appearance would reveal the turmoil I feel inside.
God, I let him kiss me.
Not only did I let him, but I melted into his arms.
If his kiss is that amazing, how would making love to him feel?
