Isla leaned back unthinkingly, and a forlorn sigh escaped her as she found herself staring at Sean’s devilishly handsome face. “You really are too good looking, Sean.” It had already been bad enough the first time she caught a glimpse of him at the lobby, but now that he had also introduced her to the pleasure of his touch –
An image, a vivid memory, flashed in her mind – Sean thrusting his tongue inside of her pussy – and her breath quickened.
Oh dear Lord.
If things continued at this rate, she’d be his willing sex slave before sunrise.
There had to be something she could do to make him less attractive.
Right?
Sean raised a brow when a thoughtful expression crossed Isla’s face as she slowly reached for him. “Isla?”
She started mussing his hair like he was her long-lost pet.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Her hands didn’t stop moving as she answered him in absent-minded fashion, “Making you ugly.”
“I see.”
A look of frustration flitted over her features, and her hands stilled. “It’s not working.”
“I’m sorry for that,” Sean felt obliged to say.
“You’re forgiven,” Isla answered vaguely while reaching for him again.
She then started furiously rubbing his eyebrows, and Sean’s lips compressed together in an effort to contain his amusement. “Is this another, err, method?”
“Do you know how much women spend just to have the perfect shape and thickness for their eyebrows?” she asked in the same vague tone. “It’s just not fair that yours are naturally flawless---”
“What the---” Sean sputtered when he felt her actually try plucking his eyebrows with her bare fingers. “Will you stop that!”
“But why?” Isla glowered. “You said you wanted to help me.”
“Getting rid of my brows will help you?” he choked out.
“It’s the key to your aesthetic deterioration, yes.”

“Let us dispense with all the word games and speak plainly from hereon,” Rayyan intoned with curt finality. “Why do you wish to be an intern in my department?”
“La, alshaykh.” No, sheikh. “My desire has always been to be directly under your command.”
Her frankness was disconcerting, but it was her consistently provocative choice of words that made him shake his head with exasperation. “Stop speaking that way.”
She gave him a sad look. “You don’t find it cute?”
“I find it inappropriate, considering your age.”
Her dark gaze turned surprisingly sly. “I’ll be eighteen in ten months’ time, though. Do you mean by that time----”
“Enough,” the sheikh snapped, but this only made the cheeky brat grin.
“I understand, Your Highness.” Her tone was soft and humble, and she was the epitome of modesty as she stepped back and gave him a deep bow of respect.
He watched her turn and walk away, and the sheikh told himself that it was how it should be. Hyacinth Kahveci was a bundle of trouble, and in ten months’ time, she would be a hundred times more so. If he knew what was good for him, he should let this – this insanity – end here and now and put it behind him for good.
But then he saw her fingers reach for the doorknob, and he heard himself say sharply, “Make sure you are at my office tomorrow before eight in the morning. Be tardy for even a second, and you may consider your internship with my department effectively terminated.”
The girl went still, and the silence that followed was so long that it had the sheikh’s jaw hardening. What was it about this brat? Nothing she said or did should fucking matter – and yet it did.
When Hyacinth finally turned to face him, the sheikh was cynical enough to expect a demonstration of feminine triumph: a coy smile perhaps, or a triumphant gleam in her dark eyes. But when she lifted her face to his, it only ended up reminding him that at the end of the day, she was still a seventeen-year-old child, and one whose youth was now unable to keep her from holding her emotions in check.
Her eyes were bright with tears, and a pretty smile was wobbling over her lips.
“Don’t get me wrong, alsyd. I was never in doubt that you would let me work for you. I knew in my heart that was always meant to happen, but---” She wiped away her tears with a delightfully self-conscious gesture. “What I didn’t expect was how happy it would make me.”
The raw honesty in her voice made the sheikh grunt in discomfited acknowledgment of her feelings. She was acting like he had given her the keys to the kingdom, for fuck’s sake, when in truth her internship would only have her paid peanuts.
“You asked me earlier why I wanted to work for you, alshaykh.” She paused to shoot him a look that had the sheikh almost snorting. There was a command in those eyes of hers – a seventeen-year-old girl who had neither kingdom nor fortune, commanding him, one of Ramil’s most powerful sheikhs.
Her sheer audacity was so that instead of causing affront it only made Rayyan shake his head, and he said in a resigned tone, “Fine, majamira.” It meant ‘tiny insanity’, which was exactly what she was. “I shall ask again.” As she had commanded, he thought with self-disgust, and which he was actually heeding for some foolish reason.
She rewarded him with an infectious smile, the sight of which caused such a strange tightening of his chest that Rayyan wondered if perhaps she was not the only insane one in the room.
“Why do you wish to work for me?”
“Because I truly want to learn from you, alshaykh. Actually, I want to be like you.” She spun on her heels, so quickly that the skirt of her abaya swirled about her legs just a bit. “That’s the first of two reasons.”
The last words were tossed over her shoulder, which left the sheikh in a state of incensed incredulity. What the fuck? The first of two reasons, she had said, and yet she was now acting like she was about to leave the room without telling him her other reason for wanting to work for him. Un-fucking-believable. Did this brat really think she could twist him around her finger just like that?
The girl opened the door.
To hell with her, the sheikh thought furiously. She was just a kid, and she could only push him so---
Hyacinth suddenly turned around to look at him again, and his thoughts crashed to a stop at the look on her face. It was surprisingly hesitant, almost shy, but at the same time it was confident in a way that only women could be. It was a look that a seventeen-year-old girl should have been too young and inexperienced to have, and yet it was there. It was real.
“The other reason, alsyd, is because you’re my first love.”

​“Then tell me what you truly think of me,” he invited coolly.
Her lips tightened.
The sheikh’s lips curved into a taunting smile. “Afraid?”
Indignation flared inside of her, and Anisah’s chin automatically lifted. “Of course not!”
“Then why not say the truth?”
“Because it’s the proper---” She caught herself in time, but it was too late.
“Proper to lie, you mean?”
Seeing the way the sheikh’s gaze laughed at her, Anisah’s teeth ground against each other, and she snapped, “All of this may be but a lark to you, but it’s different for ordinary people like me. It’s my reputation at stake---”
The sheikh cut her off, asking, “You are saying that one dance with me can cause your reputation harm?”
“Yes!”
His eyes glittered then, and the sheikh purred, “Because you find me that attractive?”
Color burst in her cheeks at the way he had so skillfully twisted in her words, and she gasped, “I did not mean that at all!”
“And another lie---”
“I am not lying!”
Tarif shook his head. “Of course you are.”
She almost stomped her foot in frustration, hissing, “Stop this, Your Highness!”
But the sheikh’s lips only twitched in response at her furious exclamation, and the last vestige of her self-discipline broke.
Oh, curse him!
Anisah found herself no longer caring one bit of what was or wasn’t proper. All she wanted was to get rid of the too cocky look on the sheikh’s face, and this spurred her to say wrathfully, “If you want the truth so much, Your Highness, then I’ll give it to you.”
And after one deep breath, she let loose every single critical thought she had of the sheikh.
I think you’re so full of yourself!
I think you’re undeserving of the king’s trust!
I think you spend too much time fooling around, and I think you’re good for nothing but bringing added but unnecessary glamor to the kingdom!
Words of vitriol continued to pour out of her throat, with Anisah’s rage-fueled rant only ending when she had to gasp for breath.
And when she did---
Horror instead of triumph filled her, and Anisah’s hands flew to cover her mouth in dismayed shock.
Oh dear heavens!
Why had she let herself act in such an inexcusably improper manner and with an Al-Atassi sheikh of all people? How could she have forgotten that she and her sister owed their whole lives to the Al-Atassi family? Whatever happened to her vow to live honorably and properly, the way her father had not?
Tarif was about to speak when to his surprise Anisah suddenly fell to her knees, dark head bowed. “I humbly beg your forgiveness, Your Highness.” Anisah’s voice was hollow, a large part of her still reeling from shock at her sheer loss of control. No matter what she thought of Tarif Al-Atassi, it was no reason for her to disrespect the sheikh, and that she had –
Tarif’s dark gaze remained inscrutable even as his mind shrewdly assessed the telltale play of emotions on Anisah’s lovely face. He should have known that his sweet puritan would be so stricken with guilt over hurling insults at him she would end up punishing herself with something this drastic.
The question now, he thought contemplatively, was what to do about it.
He still wanted her in his bed, but he did not want her browbeaten into it. He wanted her to come to him of his own volition, but how?
As his mind continued to consider and discard one possibility after another, the sheikh was unable to resist the urge to touch her, his fingers gently reaching down to cup her chin. He felt her tremble at his touch, and a sardonic smile twisted on his lips.
If only he could make himself believe her reaction was out of sexual awareness and not because she was suffering in the throes of misplaced guilt and self-reproach.
“Anisah.”
“Yes, Your Highness?” She squared her shoulders as she waited for the sheikh’s next words, telling herself that she would take whatever punishment he deemed appropriate for her show of disrespect.
“Are you on your knees because you intend to apologize with a blowjob?”
WHAT?
Anisah shoved his hand away as she furiously shot up to her feet, crying out “You abominable---” She stopped speaking the moment she saw the mocking gleam in the sheikh’s eyes, realizing with a start that the infuriatingly perverse man hadn’t meant it at all, and his next words confirmed as much.
“You’re angry,” Tarif purred in approval. “That’s better. There’s no fun teasing you when you’re acting all meek and mild---”
“I am meek and mild,” she said defensively.
“And I’m both a saint and a virgin,” the sheikh retorted, laughing at her face. 

I’ve never been attracted to bad boys.
They’re just too cocky and shallow for my taste, and I despise the way they act like being wickedly gorgeous and sexy makes them God’s gift to women.
Yeah right.
That may work on others but not me. I’m too smart for that.
But then I start working for Mr. Rochester, and everything changes.
I’ve never met someone more horribly rude and self-centered, and even worse is the way he’s so damn moody. Just being in his presence makes me feel dizzy. One moment he’s viciously cruel, another moment he’s exquisitely charming. One moment he seems invincible and out of my league, another moment he’s broodingly vulnerable and mysteriously tormented.
But the worst part is when we’re alone – when he gazes at me like he wants to eat me, it makes me feel so shamefully wet.
I hate it. I hate HIM, Mr. Rochester, and if he thinks I’m going to let him get away with acting like my lord and master just because he’s my boss and I find him a little bit too sexy for my own good---
You don’t own me, Mr. Rochester, I hiss at him.
But the words only make him smirk, and he whispers into my ear, ‘Not yet’

About this book...

Dear Anonymous Readers,
Let's just call him X - the first and only guy I've ever loved – also the first and only guy who's broken my heart. I used to think that trauma caused by ugly breakups was only a thing in books, movies – and yes, manga – until of course it happened to me.
On hindsight, I really should have known better. He had so many issues it was only a matter of time before one of them drove us apart. And even if that hadn't happened, we still wouldn't have worked out. He was this perfect, gorgeous guy who had everything going for him while I...well, let's just say I didn't turn out to be this super-smart girl everyone thought me to be.
I hate him as much as I fear him, so much so that even in my dreams I can't make myself think of his name, much less say it. It's like my mind's completely blocked the sound of it, and now his name works like a breakdown trigger. If I let myself say his name, that's it, and believe me – what happens after isn't pretty.
So yeah, it's that bad between us, but I'm determined to put it all behind me now. I've moved to another country, doing my best to get my shite together. I've even made myself attend a goukon (a group dating thing) in hopes of finding love again.
Everything's going well...
Until I bumped into him.
X.
Bloody. Bloody. Bloody hell.
The sight of him has my world spinning out of its axis, my face draining of color, my throat locking oxygen out---
I can't remember feeling more terrified than I was at that moment. But the worst thing is – I can't remember when the last time I felt so alive either.

​“You were right when you said that nothing will change the way you are. But it doesn’t mean you’re without hope, di Luca. It only means you need to wait for the right person---” He saw Christien’s lips twist in distaste and Derek made a gesture of acceptance. “Yes, I fucking know how clichéd that sounds. But I also know it’s true. You can’t feel the way you’re supposed to because the right person hasn’t come along yet to teach you how to feel---”
“Not all of us can be as lucky as you,” Christien said tightly.
“You’ve been my friend for almost my entire life, di Luca. You’re a good man, and I refuse to believe someone like you would not have---”
“Let me rephrase then,” Christien cut him off tautly. “Even if I were to find a woman who’s my ideal match, the way you believe Jaike Hepburn is for you – it doesn’t mean I can care for her the way you care for Jaike.” Jerking his gaze away, Derek’s friend muttered under his breath, “Let’s just accept I’m a lost cause.”
“I’d be an asshole if I did,” Derek stated grimly, “and you – a coward.”
Christien stiffened.
“At least just wait. Give that anonymous girl time to find her way to you, di Luca. Wait until she stumbles into your life, wait and see if she can have you feeling something strong enough to make you look uncool. If that girl came into your life and you still don’t change---” Derek drew a deep, tense breath. “---I’ll kill you myself if that’s what it takes to free you.”