“Everyone should go back to their offices,” I order, and as if by magic, it’s just me, Sinara—my main secretary—Adil, and Madeline.
“Is there somewhere I can go and clean up?” she asks, darting her eyes to Sinara.
She doesn’t answer Madeline, staring at me as if waiting for instructions.
“You have extra clothes for the employees, right?” I ask her.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Get something that will fit Miss . . .” I look at her, pretending not to know who she is.
“Madeline Turner.”
“Get Miss Turner something to wear and then bring her to my office.”
When they leave, Adil says, “I thought you were going to meet Irfan.”
“No, I’ve changed my mind. I need to handle this situation.”
I pick up my phone and send my middle brother a quick message, then turn to my counselor.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
“I can’t hire her.”
“Why not?” He knows the reason, but I think he likes to see me admit the truth.
“I’m attracted to Madeline. If she starts working for me, I’ll take her to bed, and that would be the stupidest thing that could happen.”
His smile widens as he looks at something—or someone—behind me. Even before I turn around, I know who it is.
I’m not prepared, however, for the angry expression on the face of the mermaid who was supposed to be my assistant.
She didn’t change her clothes. She zipped up her suit, which looks like it has been wiped clean with a damp cloth, and is now carrying my blazer in her arms.
Luckily, she’s alone, because then she says, “I’m the one who won’t work for you, Your Excellency. I was told I needed to ‘Westernize’ you, but it only took me one sentence to know that this is a job beyond my abilities. What I can tell you, however, is that not even for a million poundscould you get me into bed. I don’t know if I’m already hired, but if so, I resign.”
She says all this very slowly and with such dignity that, if anything in this life could embarrass me, I should be ashamed.
I like the way the words slowly come out of her mouth, and I remember that she put on her resumé that she is dyslexic.
She walks over to an armchair and places my blazer there, rather than coming over and handing it back to me.
Then she starts walking to the elevator.
“Stop,” I command.
She obeys, and I look at her to see if what she said was a bluff.
It was not. Madeline looks enraged, which isn’t exactly a surprise after what I said.
“I have nothing else to do here,” she says. “I won’t work for you.”
“And how do you intend to support yourself in London? Your family is broke,” I say bluntly.
Her cheeks are on fire. “I will come up with something.”
Why the hell am I arguing instead of just letting her go?
