Rayyan Read online

  Rayyan

  Marian Tee

  Contents

  About the book

  Also by Marian Tee

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Dear Readers,

  About the Author

  Also by Marian Tee

  About the book

  Hyacinth Kahveci has something to hide, and she’s willing to go to extraordinary lengths to keep her secret – even if it means having to sort of blackmail Sheikh Rayyan Al-Atassi into becoming her fake boyfriend.

  “Did Al Afea send you?”

  The man slowly sheathed his gun at her words, and she nearly expired in relief. Oh, thank God. She had done the right thing then. Al Afea was another name that Sheikh Rayyan Al-Atassi answered to, and Hyacinth had been hoping that the air of mystery that constantly shrouded the royal sheikh would make her lie more believable.

  Forcing herself to meet the man’s gaze, she demanded, “Did you not hear what I said? Because the sheikh will not be pleased at all if he sees his woman---” Her voice died when she saw the man reach for his helmet.

  Oh. Shit.

  She had watched too many true crime shows not to know how much danger she was in, and Hyacinth slowly took a step back. If he was willing to show her his face, then it only meant one thing. He wasn’t worried she would be able to identify him – because he had no plans of keeping her alive.

  The helmet clattered to the ground, and the moment he reached for the edge of his balaclava, Hyacinth spun around to take advantage of his momentary blindness and make a run for it.

  But she had barely been able to take several steps when long, hard fingers curled around her wrist and hauled her back.

  She screamed. She kicked and thrashed against him. She gave him as good as she got, hell bent on fighting to her dying breath –

  “Stop struggling!”

  “Stop, dammit!”

  “Will you just look at me---”

  The man’s words eventually penetrated the haze of terror that had clouded her mind, and even though she dared not stop pummeling his chest and doing all she could to knee him in the groin, she did let her gaze move up to her assailant’s face –

  “HOLY FUCK!”

  Startled at the expletive, Rayyan unconsciously loosened his grip on her just as Hyacinth made another attempt to free herself. She succeeded this time and backed away as soon as she could. Too soon as it turned out because the next thing she knew, she was falling and falling and falling –

  Thud.

  Hyacinth couldn’t tell which hurt worse: her ego or her ass. All she knew was how her embarrassment was growing with every second, more so when she saw the sheikh slowly crouch down in front of her.

  “Well, anisdi…” Rayyan paused. “This certainly isn’t the kind of reaction I was hoping to get from my woman.”

  A strangled sound escaped Hyacinth.

  Oh. My. God.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  She had forgotten about that.

  “And for the record---” She saw his gaze dip down. “White underwear isn’t a favorite of mine.”

  Too late, she realized she was still sprawled on the ground, her legs wide open, and her abaya falling all the way back to her waist.

  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

  This is the fourth book in the Desert Sheikhs series. It is a standalone romance with no cliffhangers.

  Want More Hot Alpha Billionaire and Biker Romances from Marian Tee?

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  Also by Marian Tee

  Want More Hot Alpha Billionaire and Biker Romances from Marian Tee?

  Enjoy exclusive excerpts about my newest and upcoming releases by signing up for my newsletter.

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  Rayyan by Marian Tee

  Copyright 2018 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  “Do you see this?” Hyacinth pointed to one corner of her lip. “It moves up here, and the same goes for the other side.” She let both corners turn up. “And that, my dear Mrs. B., is how smiles are born.”

  Unfortunately, it had absolutely no effect on her humor-resistant homeroom teacher.

  “Oh, come on. It’s funny, admit it.”

  “Are you done, Ms. Kahveci?”

  She made a face, wondering how someone so exceptionally good at the art of homemaking could have ridiculously poor people skills. Who exactly did this woman practice her homemaking skills for anyway – orcs?

  “Because if you are, then may we please start talking about the reason you’re here, which is---”

  “To save you from getting publicly crucified in next week’s PTA?”

  “To discuss what you’ve written on your career counseling form,” Mrs. B. said in a steely voice.

  Shit.

  So that’s what this was about.

  “What’s this about you wanting to be an accountant?”

  “I’m exceptionally good with numbers,” Hyacinth defended.

  “I’m good at making people cry, too,” Mrs. B retorted coolly, “but you don’t see me working for Revenue Collections, do you?”

  The words had her choking, but the mask of cold refinedness on the older woman’s flawlessly beautiful face didn’t even crack the slightest bit.

  “It’s about doing what you love---”

  “So you’re saying teaching is the job you love?”

  “It is,” Mrs. B. answered without hesitation.

  “Then how about playing nice with the other teachers just once, to keep this job you say you love?” Hyacinth leaned forward, intent on getting her point across. “Because I know what I heard, Mrs. B. Those women are out for your blood, and they’re planning to make a move during the PTA---”

  The teacher’s upper lip curled. “Let them do their worst---”

  Hyacinth threw her hands up in despair. “Oh my God, Mrs. B! Will it kill you to pretend just this once that you care about what others say?” She pointed accusingly to the woman’s porcelain-perfect face, saying warningly, “If you don’t make an effort to get along, those jealous bitches---”

  “Language,” Mrs. Bauer censured.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. They’re witches. Can I call them that instead?” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer, knowing that her homeroom teacher was certain to insist on something more formal (and a lot less fun). “Those jealous witches are desperate to bring you down!”

  “And you think I should be worried about them?” the older woman questioned with a sniff.

  “Umm. Yeah?” She could only shake her head at the question, wondering why her homeroom teacher seemed hell bent on making enemies when there was no need to.

  Mrs. B suddenly let out a sigh, and the way the sound made her teacher sound passably human had Hyacinth’s gaze narrowing.

  “Do not get me wrong,” the older woman said gruffly. “I truly appreciate your concern.” And it did seem like it, with the teacher’s preternaturally exquisite features softening ever so slightly. “But---”

  I knew it. Hyacinth grimaced. “Of course there had to be a but.”

  “I would rather you worry more about your own situation.”

  She leaned back against her seat, caught by surprise. “But I don’t have any problem---”

  “And that,” Mrs. Bauer pointed out, “is exactly what the problem is.”

  “Um. Okay. But---” Hyacinth slowly shook her head, saying honestly, “I still don’t get it.”

  “You have been my student for almost four years now. I’ve seen you grown up with my own eyes, and I’ve had more than ample time to observe how you conduct yourself in class, with your peers---”

  “Are you saying you’re my stalker?” she quipped.

  But as always, Mrs. Bauer’s face refused to yield even the smallest of smiles. “You’re the ideal student. Friendly without being precocious, smart without being nerdy, kind without being a pushover, confident without being conceited---”

  “Can we get to the ‘but’ part now?” she interrupted. “Because there’s another one, isn’t it?”

  “But I’m convinced you’re faking everything---”

  Hyacinth jerked in her seat.

  “It’s not normal to smile as much as you do.” Seeing her student’s lips – in the act of stretching into another fake smile – compress in a tight line instead, Mrs. Bauer paused, knowing she had to choose her next words with more care. “I don’t think even God is that happy all the time, Hyacinth.”

  The silence in her office persisted, but it was just as the older woman expected. The girl never did like risking saying anything when she was feeling too much.

  “I worry about you, too, you know.”

  “Because I smile too much.”

  The girl seemed to have recovered, and the smile was back on Hyacinth’s lovely face. Tough girl, Mrs. Bauer thought, ugly smile. It was not an ideal combination.

  “Is that what you’re saying, Mrs. B?” And before she could reply, her student went on, “Even with suicide rates on the rise – celebrities, teenagers, take your pick – everyone seems to be at risk, and yet you’re seriously telling me you’re worried that I’m smiling too much?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Bauer refused to rise to the bait. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “You’ve gotta be joking---”

  “Look at me in the eye and tell me all your smiles are real.”

  The girl’s lips parted, but no words came out.

  “Because if they’re not, then your smiles are all to hide something---” A barely audible beeping cut her off, and the untimely interruption caused Mrs. Bauer to nearly forget herself, with a series of rude words brimming on her lips.

  The alarm signaled the end of the session, and before she could say another word, her student had already scrambled to her feet and slung the straps of her bag over her shoulder. “Hold on, Ms. Kahveci,” Mrs. Bauer protested.

  “Sorry, Mrs. B. I can’t stay another minute. My sister’s waiting
---”

  “Isn’t Anisah away for a two-day conference?”

  But the girl didn’t seem to hear her, backing away as she did towards the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Bauer watched her student rush out of her office and tried to take comfort from the fact that the session wasn’t a complete failure. Because Hyacinth wasn’t smiling when she left, she thought.

  It was the smallest of changes, but it was at least a step towards the right direction.

  Hyacinth was thirteen when she first found it: a journal of hand-sketched maps of the palace’s massive system of secret tunnels, stuck inside a hidden compartment under one of the desks at the royal library. She would never have found it if not for an earthquake drill that had sent her hiding under the desk, and while waiting for the second bell to ring, she had looked up, and there it was, waiting for her like a key to unlock the greatest secrets.