Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 19307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
"You look troubled," he says quietly. "If going Dutch means that much to you, then you can pay for my dinner, too."
A laugh escapes me even as my heart feels like it's about to explode with guilt.
Dear God.
How do I break things off with Hal when he's too nice for words?
"But seriously." Hal touches my hand. "Is something wrong?"
How do I even begin to answer that? I shouldn't be out having dinner with him in the first place, but even worse is how the sheikh's made me cum just minutes ago...and the fact that I'm now back in the table with Hal...but without my panties!
Those are just a few of the things that are absolutely wrong with my life, but since they're all unspeakably bad—-
I clear my throat and smile tentatively at Hal. "The thing is—-" My words trail off when Hal starts shaking his head.
"You regret saying yes, don't you?"
I start to nod then change my mind and shake my head. "Yes, I mean, no—-"
Hal's expression turns wry. "Which is it?"
"You're just so sweet—-"
"Not exactly faint praise," he remarks with a wince, "but they're still pretty damning."
Argh!
SOBs and bitches, I have no problems dealing with, but the moment I'm faced with the prospect of breaking a nice person's heart, I'm just suddenly as useful as a headless chicken.
I look at Hal helplessly. "I'm so sorry—-"
"Does this mean I'm back in the friend zone?"
"But...you never left?"
Hal whitens, and I want to kill myself. "I'm so sorry—-" It's then I see him grin, and I realize I've been had. "Hal, you jerk!"
"Uh no, Seven. That would be you."
I laugh yet again, but I feel like crying just a little, too.
Hal is perfect.
He really is.
So why can't I just like him instead—-
"Whoa." Hal is gaping at something behind me, and I automatically turn around...and end up gaping myself.
Whoa indeed...since Sheikh Saif Al-Masri has just walked into the restaurant, and of course he immediately gets everyone talking even though none of them is aware that he's the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Huzna.
He's just that level of gorgeous, and I find myself gritting my teeth at the way some of the women are openly ogling him. I hate that I feel this way, but I can't seem to help it.
Hal touches my arm, and guilt slaps me back into my senses.
Shit!
I'm in a date with Hal, and I really need to start acting like it.
Got that, Seven?
I quickly turn around to face Hal, and in doing so I miss the way Sheikh Saif's jaw clenches at the sight of another man laying his hand on me.
"That's him, isn't it?" Hal is visibly amazed as he shakes his head.
"Who's him?" I quip.
"Not buying it," Hal says with a grin. "You always do your research about the VIPs."
That's actually true, and I used to think I was really good at it, too. But now I know otherwise, having been blindsided by Sheikh Saif's blackmailing ways.
My phone suddenly starts dancing on top of the table, and I know right away it has to be him. It can't be anyone else, especially with the way the hairs at the back of my neck have suddenly stood up.
"I know I gotta be imagining this," Hal confides in a low voice, "but it seems like Sheikh Saif's glaring at our direction."
"You're definitely imagining it," I say firmly, never mind if I can feel the sheikh's eyes presently digging at my back like he wishes he can use his gaze to bury me six feet under.
Our waiter returns to serve us our steaks, and I use the chance to take a peek at my phone.
I'm disappointed. Didn't I tell you to get rid of him?
I'm halfway done to typing 'go to hell' when my phone vibrates in my hand with a series of incoming texts.
But since you haven't...
There's a smirking emoji at the end of his text, and I know right away what it means. The royal SOB is about to blackmail me again, and his next message proves me right.
This is the boy's number, is it not?
Shit, shit, shit.
Shall I text him...or shall we play a little game instead?
"Seven?"
Hal's concerned tone is another slap in the face. I actually forgot all about him. Again!
Guilt eats me alive as I look back at him. "I'm sorry, Hal. I know this is going to make me sound like the biggest bitch in the world, and I know you'll have every reason to hate me for this—-"
Hal raises his hand, and I quickly shut up, since said hand also happens to be holding a steak knife. Is it just me...or is this day suddenly populated by men wielding all sorts of murder weapons in my face?
"Can we just think about tonight as two friends having dinner?"
"Um..."
"I get what you're saying, believe me. But I'd rather not hear it, too. Just know that I get it."