It's the last thought that makes my blood turn cold, and I'm now painfully convinced that I'm soon going to meet my Maker. A man this hot has all the reason to conceal his identity, and the fact that he isn't—-
"Do you know what the punishment is—-"
Oh God, here it comes, here it comes!
"—-for entering the room of a member of Huznan royalty without permission?"
What did he just say?
I stare at him in stupefied silence, and his gaze turns mocking. "Shall I repeat the question?"
Oh shit.
The truth finally dawns on me, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Good news: This man is no killer.
Bad news: This man is a member of the royal family of the kingdom of Huzna, and—-
Worse news: I actually do know what the punishment is for trespassing on any property owned or occupied by Huznan royalty, and it's fucking death.
Shit, shit, shit!
It's like jumping from the frying pan into the fire, and I rack my brains for something I can say to excuse the inexcusable.
I know our VIPs' schedule like the back of my hand, and I could've sworn he and his entourage weren't due to arrive until tomorrow. But regardless of the reason for him showing up a day early, I still haven't any right to enter his room without permission—-
"So you do know."
The man's drawl makes my frantic gaze snap back to his, and the glint in his golden eyes makes me swallow hard.
"I'm s-sorry," I stammer. "I didn't mean to trespass." I make a tentative attempt to retreat after, but the moment I move, his sharp voice lashes out like a whip.
"Did I say you were dismissed?"
Every cell in my body freezes, and shock claws back into my soul.
"Did I?"
I work hard to keep my voice steady as I answer him. "No, Your Highness."
"Then don't until I tell you to."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Several moments pass, and he's now looking at me like I'm some alien species to be dissected. Thoroughly.
"What do you know of Huzna?"
Oh God.
Is he asking me this because he thinks I'm some kind of government spy? The thought makes me panic anew, and I struggle to keep my voice from shaking as I try to convince him of the truth. "I'm no one important—-"
"Just answer my question."
Shit.
"And forget about holding anything back."
The blandness of his tone only makes his warning all the more frightening, and I find myself rushing into speech as I throw out every Huznan fact I'm able to remember. "You had your b-borders closed for the past fifty years. A c-civil war broke out, and you were able to overthrow your former king, who's been found guilty of conspiring with rebel forces from Ramil. Your, um, your culture or your society is...is a-androcentric—-"
"Androcentric?"
There's that mocking tone of his again, but this time, it's more than a little offensive, and I find myself momentarily forgetting my fear. "Just because I work in housekeeping doesn't mean I'm illiterate—-"
"But it doesn't guarantee you'd be articulate either, does it?"
Irritation burns through my shock, but it's a blessing in disguise. Anger gives me a moment of clarity, and a sudden fact hits me like a punch in the guts.
If this man is no different from the other VIPs I've worked for - and I have no reason to think that he is - then the only way I can make sure I survive this ordeal with my neck intact is to not cower and blubber in his presence...never mind if his ability to legally order my death sentence makes me want to do exactly that: cower and blubber, and maybe swap my citizenship for Canadian, just to be safe.
"What else do you know about our kingdom?"
He's using the same bland tone from earlier, and while the sound reminds me awfully of how John Effin' Wick speaks—-
Just be yourself, Seven!
And so I look at him in the eye and say, "I know just one other thing."
"Which is?"
"You guys are filthy rich."
I'm hoping that would throw him off, but the words only make his golden eyes glitter.
Shit.
I have this really bad feeling my plan's completely backfired, and I've just given the sheikh another reason to punish me.
"Do you know who I am?"
I shake my head. Huznan royalty is notoriously overzealous about guarding its privacy, and the one and only time a tabloid magazine dared to publish their photos online, the kingdom's legal forces had been unleashed like a rain of missles.
With the London-based tabloid declaring bankruptcy just three days after its court battle, all other news and media outlets had virtually responded with a 'copy that', and the Internet hasn't seen a single photo of the royal family since then.
"My name is Saif."
Oh.
Then that means...
"You've heard of me," he says silkily.
"It's part of our job, Your Highness." I'm not really the type to pick my words with care, but there's just something about Sheikh Saif that makes me feel like I'm treading on eggshells, and one wrong move can have him instantly transform from sophisticated royal to the most dangerous predator.