When he heard the door open, he didn't bother to lift his head.
He leaned further back into the couch, eyes still closed, exhaustion weighing heavy in his bones. It had been a long, relentless day. The opening of the hospital named after his late uncle. Endless conference meetings. Then the mosque, the expectations, the faces, the conversations that drained more than they gave.
By the time night fell, all he wanted was release.
He took another slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the dim air. His patience was thinning. The women here knew better than to keep him waiting.
One minute passed.
Then another.
Annoyance flickered.
He opened his eyes.
Frustration sharpened into something else entirely.
This was not the blonde woman he had expected.
Standing before him was a vision wrapped in shock and stillness a raven-haired beauty with fair, flushed skin, lips naturally pink, cheeks tinted red as if the room itself had touched her. Green eyes stared back at him, wide and uncertain, like she had wandered into a world she was never meant to see.
For years, he had believed blondes were the most beautiful women in the world. That they were his type.
How wrong he had been.
Utterly wrong.
He set the glass of alcohol down, then the cigarette, slow and deliberate. His gaze never left her.
She stood frozen, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Come here," he said.
His voice was low, calm, commanding, leaving no room for argument.
For a moment, she didn't move. Her eyes flicked to the door behind her, then back to him. Something passed through her expression, fear, hesitation, fate.
Then she took a step forward.
And another.
She was barely an arm's length away when his hand closed around her wrist. He pulled her toward him with ease, drawing her into his space. Her long dark hair fell forward, hiding her face like a curtain.
He didn't give her time to speak.
Or think.
He leaned in, capturing her lips, stealing her breath before she even understood what was happening.
And in that instant, the night rewrote everything that had been written before.
His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as his mouth devoured hers. He felt the exhaustion melt away, his body finally giving in to the moment-but before he could sink into that euphoria, she pushed him away with everything she had.
He stumbled back.
Her eyes were glassy, tears trembling on the edge, ready to fall. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, fear and shock written all over her face.
Before she could move any farther, he grabbed her hand. They were both standing now. He pulled her to him once more, his grip firm, unyielding. His hand slid to the curve of her hips, holding her there as his lips moved toward her pulse point.
She shoved him again.
Harder this time.
And then...
A slap landed on his cheek.
The sound echoed in the room.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice shaking, breaking through the haze between them.
"What I'm doing?" he chuckled softly. "You don't know what I'm doing?"
His eyes held mockery now. "Is this your first time here?"
She frowned, confused, unable to understand the sarcasm in his voice. Her throat felt tight as she whispered, barely audible, "Yes."
That single word made him pause.
He looked at her again-really looked at her this time. The modest clothes. Too modest. Completely wrong for this place. Wrong for what he had assumed.
"You know who I am?" he asked slowly.
She shook her head. "No."
"Who sent you here?"
"No one," she said, her voice breaking. "I... I got lost."
And just like that, her control slipped. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over, silent and helpless.
That was when it hit him.
She wasn't an escort.
She wasn't meant to be here at all.
As realization dawned on him, he turned his back to her.
"Get out," he said in his deep, velvety voice.
If she wasn't the escort he had asked for, then this meant trouble. Real trouble. His head began to pound again, the exhaustion returning all at once.
Before he could turn around-before he could look at her again-he heard the sound of the door opening.
Then closing.
He rubbed his temple slowly, jaw tightening. He wasn't ready to risk everything he had built. Not after all the hard work it had taken to get here.
Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone.
There was only one number he trusted to fix every problem.
And he dialed it.
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