Sheikh's Scandal(23)

                “I don’t want water.”

                “Yes, you do, you just don’t know it.” He wasn’t sure anything would prevent a hangover at this point, but staying hydrated would help.

                “You’re awfully bossy.”

                “So I’ve been told.”

                “I’m sure you have.”

                He shook his head, filling two glasses with ice from the bar. He snagged a couple liter bottles of water as well as the ouzo before carrying it all back to the sofa.

                He put everything on the coffee table before pouring them both a glass of water and topping off his ouzo.

                “You weren’t even finished with your first drink,” she commented after taking an obedient sip of water.

                “You’re five shots up on me.”

                “And you intend to catch up?”

                Why not? “Yes.”

                “How did you know Princess Tahira had alcohol in her rooms?”

                “I know everything about the people I need to.” With one glaring exception.

                “Not everything.”

                “No, not everything.” Clearly, he hadn’t known about the palace aid. “It would have been politic of you not to point that out.”

                Aaliyah shrugged. “I’m a lead chambermaid, not a politician.”

                “You don’t act like any maid I’ve ever encountered.”

                “Gotten to know many of them, have you?” she asked with a surprisingly bitter suspicion.

                “No, actually. That is precisely what makes you so different.”

                Her ruffled feathers settled around her. “Well, I don’t usually work housekeeping. I was assistant manager of desk reception in my previous job.”

                “Why are you working as a maid now?”

                “They wanted my mother, but she died.”

                “Your mother is gone, as well?” he asked, pity touching his heart as it rarely did.

                “Yes. She was from Zeena Sahra.”

                “Did you come to London to be with the rest of your family?” There was a small community of Zeena Sahrans residing in the British city.

                “The Amaris don’t recognize me.”

                “But that’s impossible.” Family was sacrosanct in Zeena Sahran culture.

                “Mom refused to allow someone else in the family to adopt and raise me. The Amaris refuse to recognize a bastard.”

                He frowned, inexplicable anger coursing through him. “Do not use such language to describe yourself. It is not seemly.”

                “Neither was offering to pay me off if I’d change my last name.”

                “They did that?” It boggled his mind.