A shower, a bed, and a beautiful woman to fuck, Rayyan Al-Atassi thought wearily as he shoved the boulder to the side, just enough to slip into the passageway that burrowed all the way back to the palace.

That was all he needed, preferably in reverse order, and he could die a contented man.

His side started stinging like hell when he had to exert effort in shoving the boulder back into place, but all he could do was grit his teeth against the discomfort. Sooner or later, the painkillers should kick in, and he’d be able to make better time. But until then, every tiny movement would be like having a thousand needles pricking his side, and there was nothing he could do about it.

A faint voice reached him when he was about a hundred meters in, and the sheikh froze. Was that…a woman?

He waited, tense and unmoving, but when only silence followed, he allowed his breathing to ease a little. The painkillers must be making him imagine –

Pluck!

It was the sound of a stone hitting another hard surface, and Rayyan had already drawn his handgun out in the next second. He moved forward, letting his instincts lead the way through the maze of damp and narrow passageways. The ground was rough and uneven, but even so his footsteps fell silently on its surface, his dark, blood-speckled boots a startling contrast to the streaks of gold streaking down from the tunnel’s wall-mounted sconces.

“Dammit, goddammit, dammit.”

Rayyan stiffened. So he hadn’t been imagining it, after all. There was someone else, but it wasn’t a woman. It was someone who sounded noticeably younger, and a moment later, he came upon her, the unexpected sight of her arresting his movements.

Hyacinth Kahveci?

The teenage girl stood inside an unmarked chamber, hands planted on her tiny waist, and glaring so hard it was almost as if the wall before the girl had done something to offend her.

Prior to this, the girl had only existed in the fringes of the sheikh’s all-too-hectic life, and Rayyan frowned as he strove to remember anything essential about her. They might have been living under the same roof for over a decade, but the years that had gone past only afforded him the vaguest memories: a young, well-behaved lady with a sunny nature, never the kind to make trouble with anyone.

Which was why, he thought absently, he would never have expected to see the girl here, trespassing and as seemingly well versed in swearing as the next drunken sailor.

He was curious to know how a girl like her had ended up in the palace’s secret tunnels, but because he was also never the type to get unnecessarily involved, the thought of letting the girl know of his presence didn’t even occur to the sheikh.

But just as he turned away, he heard her choke out a word.

“I’m…”

And that was when he saw it.

The look on her face, reminding him of the past, and the sheikh reacted instinctively, his feet moving forward before he could even understand what was happening. He watched her look up, and it was as if the whole world was in slow motion – he knew he still had every chance to conceal his presence, but even so he remained there, almost as if he wanted to be discovered.

Terror flashed in her big, dark eyes when she saw the gun in his hand, but before Rayyan could tell the girl who he was in order to assuage her fears, she had already started speaking.

“Did Al Afea send you?”

Rayyan slowly sheathed his gun.

This, he thought, was going to be interesting.

Adrenaline pumped into Hyacinth’s blood the moment she saw the man poised by the entryway.

Shit. Oh, shit. Goddamn shit.

And then she noticed the gun in the man’s hand, and her mind wasted no time making a lightning-quick assessment of the situation.

Objective: to stay alive.

How?

Establish her value as a hostage.

By doing what?

Make use of your years’ worth of firsthand experience and knowledge of palace life and lie about having a deeper connection to the royal life.

And if you’re asked who…

The Emir Sheikh (too much of a hard sell, everyone’s watching him too closely)

Sheikh Altair (improbable, not the type to court controversy by having a secret affair with a teenager)

Sheikh Malik (spends too much time away from the palace)

Sheikh Tarif (lifestyle as a playboy is too well-documented to make anyone believe someone like her could ever be his type)

It had taken Hyacinth only a grand total of five seconds to assimilate all such thoughts, and as soon as the only viable answer came to her, she didn’t let herself entertain any doubts of fears. She simply went and outright said it.

“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!