Killing two birds with one stone isn’t being a bitch. Hyacinth repeated the words over and over in hopes of convincing herself, but guilt was a tremendously powerful foe, and she felt like she had lost all right to look at herself in the mirror as she slowly typed a text to Rayyan, asking him for Sheikh Tarif’s number.

Months had passed since Kyria’s wedding and Jacob Bauer’s suicide, and much had changed. Kyria was now pregnant, Mrs. B. was in therapy, and she was still stuck in relationship limbo, sentenced to a purgatory of perfunctory nods of greeting whenever she bumped into Rayyan in the palace, memories of his lovemaking to cry over, and secret vigils of penance as she prayed one hour each day in the chapel to pay for her sins.

If the sheikh had once used the palace’s secret backdoor entrance to slip out and participate in dangerous police raids, Rayyan now employed the same strategy to keep Cecile Bauer company and personally oversee her therapy.

Right now, it was going as well as one could hope, with the older woman able to stand on her own feet. Or at least it was so according to Aisha, whom Rayyan had instructed to keep Hyacinth updated about Mrs. B.’s progress.

After pressing Send, she found herself holding her breath, waiting and hoping that maybe with this, he would take the olive branch she offered him and things could start getting back to normal.

She stared at her phone, willing it to vibrate and display the sheikh’s name.

Please. Please. Please.

She wasn’t expecting him to forgive her or anything. She knew she didn’t deserve that. But she just…she just wanted to know, to feel – there was still hope. Was that too much to ask for a bitch like her?

A short distance away from the palace, Cecile watched the sheikh enter her bedroom, a withdrawn expression on his handsome face as he read a message on his phone. Meticulous planning on the sheikh’s part ensured the media remained oblivious to his comings and goings in her house, but sometimes, she couldn’t help entertaining the thought of accidentally leaking the truth.

With just one carelessly spoken word, or one unguarded moment which the paparazzi could take photos of – and everything would change. After all, hadn’t she promised herself that she was done pretending? A lifetime doing the honorable thing had only rewarded her with the loss of her first love and a marriage to a scoundrel.

But here, with just her first willful attempt at trickery, she had already succeeded in keeping Sheikh Rayyan by her side and throwing Hyacinth out of the picture.

Cecile hastily pushed all thoughts aside as the sheikh took his usual place by her bedside, knowing that she couldn’t afford to lower her guard a single moment. “You look worried,” she commented lightly with a gesture to his iPhone. “Is it her?”

The sheikh’s nod was curt, his handsome face inscrutable. “She’s asking for Tarif’s number.”

Which was an excuse in other words, Cecile thought, to get Rayyan to speak to her again. Mustering a strained smile, she said haltingly, “I’ve told you before. Hyacinth---”

“Kafia, anisdi.” Enough, milady. “No one forced me to be here, and likewise, no one has the power to keep me from helping you.” His jaw tightened. “I just wish I had been here before that bastard could have done this to you.”

I don’t, Cecile thought. If Jacob had never tried to kill her, Rayyan wouldn’t be with her now, and that was the fundamental difference between her and the younger girl – and why she was winning.

Hyacinth should have listened to her, Cecile thought. It was never a good idea to fake things for other people’s sake. Been there, done that, and it had cost her everything.

Now, Cecile knew better.

When you wanted something – you had to be willing to do everything.

Even if it meant hurting other people, even if it meant lying to the very person she loved –

That was how one won in life, and it was for this reason that Cecile ignored all whispers of her conscience as she continued on with her plans to destroy the relationship between the sheikh and her former student.

She did what she could to deliberately delay her physical recovery, and once in a while, she would pretend to have nightmares so that the sheikh would be forced to stay overnight. And of course, whenever this happened, Cecile made sure to send an apologetic text message to Hyacinth, just to make sure the other girl knew whose bed Rayyan was sleeping in.

As for the fact that the sheikh made not a single attempt to touch her, well, that wasn’t for Hyacinth to know.

Rayyan had loved her once, Cecile told herself. He would come to love her again, eventually.

When Gadi came to Cecile’s house to personally inform Rayyan about Anisah Kahveci being accused of treason, Cecile knew better than to stop Rayyan from leaving her.

Her eyes tearing up, she whispered, “It’s okay, I’ll be fine on my own.” She saw relief flare in his eyes and knew it was because the sheikh had worried about her making a scene.

But as soon as he left, she took her phone out and sent Anisah a text message.

Cecile: I’m so sorry about what happened to Anisah. But please don’t use this as a chance to make a play for Rayyan’s sympathies. He’s the only one I have left, Hyacinth.

Chaos reigned in the palace by the time the sheikh returned, and Rayyan was stunned and disturbed at how badly things had deteriorated between Hyacinth’s older sister and Tarif, the man she had recently gotten engaged with.

In the end, seeing the other sheikh unwilling to have anything to do with the girl he had sworn to love and protect, the king had no choice but to transfer Tarif’s responsibility to Rayyan, ordering him to escort Anisah back to her apartment.

“She shall be placed under house arrest,” Khalil said with visible reluctance, “while the alleged charges being made against her are deliberated upon.”

Anisah was clearly in shock, and so was Hyacinth, who made not a single attempt to meet the sheikh’s gaze. Rayyan knew he had no right to feel bothered about this, but he was. It was the first time for Hyacinth to deliberately shun him, and he didn’t like it, not one goddamn bit.

Waiting until all other guards had left, he made another attempt to speak to her, but Hyacinth only shook her head, saying under her breath, “Not now, sheikh. I need to take care of Anisah.”

And because he knew this made sense, he nodded curtly and left – only to wish he had never gone at all.

For that same night, an attempt to kidnap Anisah had been made, and her abductors had almost succeeded if not for the palace’s security team inadvertently coming to her aid and Sheikh Tarif finding Anisah within the secret tunnels in time.

The whirlwind of events had Rayyan’s head reeling, but throughout it, one thought had remained in the back of his mind.

What if it had been her?

What if it had been Hyacinth who was kidnapped?

Rayyan rose from his bed in a fury of movement. Fuck what was right. He needed to see for himself, make sure that Hyacinth was safe and sound. But before he could even reach for his robe, he heard the secret panel sliding open, and then she was there –

Hyacinth.

She was in his arms in one second, their lips fusing in a deep, hard, open-mouthed kiss even as he tasted unspoken words of farewell in the tears that slowly trailed down her cheeks.

God.

No.

They made love like time was against them, not even making it to the bed as the sheikh ripped her robe off her and tore her panties away before fucking her against the wall. A strangled gasp escaped her even as she locked her legs around his waist and her hips moved frantically to meet his thrusts, urging him to pound into her even harder.

She came within minutes, but he didn’t let her go – wasn’t goddamn willing to let her go just like that when they both knew this was all there was left, a goddamn goodbye fuck to last for the rest of their lives.

As soon as he lowered Hyacinth to her feet, he thrust back into her from behind, and she ended up hanging over the back of his couch, panting and moaning, breasts jiggling in the air as he relentlessly hammered into her.

“Rayyan, oh God.”

She tried to crawl up when they finally made it to his bed, but the sheikh was far from done, tossing Hyacinth to her back as he plunged back into her. It was almost as if he wanted to permanently brand her, and the tears started falling down again.

Stupid sheikh.

If his love for Cecile Bauer had made him unable to forget the other woman despite having only one summer with her, how much worse would it be for Hyacinth, whose memories of the sheikh went all the way back to when she was four?

It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known she would fall in love with him then. What mattered was that she loved him, always would, and that love was all it took to taint every memory with the most bittersweet shades of pain.

Hyacinth slowly wrapped her arms around his neck as the sheikh sank back into her one last time, the heat of his passion flooding inside of her. I love you, Rayyan.

She hid her face in the crook of his neck.

I love you so, so much.

But she just couldn’t take this anymore. Mrs. B. nearly losing her life, Anisah almost being kidnapped – it was like fate was punishing Hyacinth over and over for being such a bitch, and maybe she was being silly and superstitious, but she just wasn’t willing to take the risk anymore.

Because next time, it might be Rayyan paying the price for her selfishness, and she knew if that ever happened, if something ever happened to Rayyan because she had insisted on keeping her with him even while knowing he loved someone else –

I love you so much.

And it was for this reason she had to let him go.

The sheikh’s cool gaze followed her as she swung her legs off the bed and walked away, all silken limbs and unconscious grace. It reminded him of how Botticelli had envisioned Venus rising from the sea in his painting. It was said that the Greek goddess of love had been a full-fledged woman at birth, one so assured of her beauty and her worth that she had not minded that all people’s first glimpse of her was of her nude body.

His lips twisted in a caustic smile as he glanced back at the petite woman who had just walked away from him. The indifference she displayed to her own nudity would have done the goddess proud. In fact, the sheikh wouldn’t even be surprised if she turned out to be Aphrodite reincarnate, and truth be known, he almost wished she was.

That at least could explain his extraordinary obsession with her, and why he felt so damn empty watching her start to dress.

“You have made up your mind then?”

She turned to him, her smile cheeky, her voice challenging. “Are you going to stop me?”

”

But her eyes –

Her fucking eyes were too damn sad, and it was this that made the sheikh slowly shake his head. “No.” He cared for her too much to lie to her. “I will not stop you.”

A tremulous smile formed on her lips. “Is it weird that I dreaded hearing you say it – but I also love you even more for saying it?”

He only looked at her, saying nothing, and her smile grew a bit wobblier. How like him to do that, too – the sheikh did so despise wasting words when the situation already spoke for itself.

Smoothing one shaking hand over her abaya, she took her time lifting her gaze to his, knowing that it could be the last time they might see each other again this way.

“Goodbye, Rayyan.”

“Goodbye, Hyacinth.”