Her Pretend Lover

Table of Contents Her Pretend Lover About the Book Her Pretend Lover One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Epilogue Note: Previously published as Rayyan: A Sheikh Romance I blackmailed the sheikh to become my pretend lover... Sheikh Rayyan Al-Atassi is coldly perfect and perfectly cold...which is why no one would've guessed that an outrageously outspoken brat like me has succeeded where all others have failed. Our fake relationship isn't meant to last. But when lies give birth to more lies, our kisses multiply as well, and one forbidden touch leads to another. Everyone says my blue-eyed sheikh is heartless... But that's where they're all wrong. And I know this because just when I've fallen in love him, that's also when the sheikh tells me he's already lost his heart to someone else. About the Book “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 Her Pretend Lover by Marian Tee Note: Previously published as Rayyan: A Sheikh Romance Copyright 2o23 by Marian Piñera 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. 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—-”