Chapter 3 3

Mazen Gamal.

I stood there for a few minutes, stunned by what Malika had just done. I couldn't believe she actually had the guts to slap me across the face. This tiny little girl!

I glared at her, grinding my teeth and breathing hard through my nose. I even forgot my dad was there, until he grabbed my arm and said, "Mazen, what are you doing? She's just a kid."

"Let me handle this, Dad. She needs to be put in her place-she's out of line." I yanked my arm free and stepped toward her. She started backing away like a scared little hedgehog.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Scared now? You haven't seen anything yet. I swear to God, I'll break that hand of yours." I wasn't just threatening her-I actually meant it. I was about to go through with it, when suddenly she collapsed to the floor.

At first, I thought she was faking, just like Dina used to do. I yelled at her, mocking, "Get up and stop acting. I know you're just doing this so I won't hit you, but I'm not going to let you off."

I leaned closer and yelled again, "Get up!" When she didn't answer, it pissed me off even more. I reached for her arm to pull her up, and realized she was ice cold. That threw me off for a second-I didn't know what to do.

Then Dad said, "Don't do this. Isn't it enough that my brother died without forgiving me?"

I didn't know if I felt bad for my dad or for her.

Without thinking, I picked her up in my arms. My cheek brushed hers as I adjusted her, and I felt her whole body trembling. "Dad, go ahead and get home first," I said quietly as I carried her up the stairs.

"Mazen, don't you dare hurt her, son. I'll never forgive you-swear on your uncle's soul," Dad said, his words weighing on me. Honestly, I'd suddenly calmed down toward her, but I couldn't deny that if she hadn't fainted, I would have torn her apart.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll wake her up and bring her home with me once I'm sure she's okay." And that was my honest intention.

Dad put his hand on my shoulder and asked, "Promise me, Mazen."

I smiled and sighed, "I promise, on your life and Mom's." That reassured him, and he quietly went ahead of me.

I totally forgot that I had brought Dad in my car. He must have called the driver or taken a taxi.

The girl's condition was strange, honestly. My mind flashed back to burying her parents, remembering they'd just died. I felt really sorry for her.

She was like a butterfly in my arms. For a moment, I felt like I was carrying an angel. But I snapped myself out of it, reminding myself that I'd never met a good woman in my life.

I carried her up to her room after asking the servants where it was. I laid her gently on the bed and looked around. It was literally a little girl's room.

Sure, they were rich and lived in a mansion, but her bed was tiny, barely big enough for her. She's not exactly big herself, but still-why would a rich girl sleep in such a small bed? And everything was pink. I almost laughed at all the teddy bears and dolls everywhere. What really caught my eye, though, was the bookshelf-an incredible library, full of books.

Anyway, I sat down next to her on the bed, looked at her face, and told the housekeeper, "Bring her some water to drink." Then I heard her voice-she was still unconscious, but mumbling, "Dad, Mom, don't leave me. Take me with you." She started crying.

I instinctively hugged her, my heart aching at her words. "Dad, come on, Dad. I got first place in high school, just like I promised."

"Dad, come. I'll work and help you."

I held her close, patting her gently. I nearly crushed her against my chest. Her words hurt me. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Her lips were blue and her body was shaking. The housekeeper came in with the water, and I quickly took the glass from her. I poured some on my hand and wiped her face. I was really scared for her.

"Call a doctor. Now," I told the housekeeper, not even looking at her.

"The family doctor, or...?" she started to ask.

I snapped, "I said now!"

I tried to wake Malika up-her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling. Suddenly, I found myself leaning closer to her, drawn in by something I couldn't explain. Next thing I knew, I was kissing her trembling lips.

I jerked back as soon as Malika opened her eyes and stared at me in shock.

She stammered, "What are you doing?"

Even I didn't know why or how I'd done it.

But it definitely wasn't the alcohol, and it wasn't just because she was beautiful. She was, honestly, but she was different. She wasn't wearing anything revealing. But her body was clearly something else-curves in all the right places. Not pale, not dark-sort of honey-colored skin, with big eyes. Not a trace of makeup on her face. Thick lashes, and her eyes were blue, just like mine-definitely family genetics. Honestly, there was nothing wrong with how she looked.

Still, I had no idea what made me kiss her.

Trying to play it off, I said, "What am I doing? Are you okay?" I put my hand on her forehead, like I was checking for a fever.

She swallowed and pulled the blanket up over herself. "I don't know. I just feel sick."

I tried to lighten the mood. "You're sick. I told the housekeeper to call the doctor. Still, that doesn't change the fact that you were saying some crazy stuff... and you hit me." I tried to joke.

"I want to die." That shocked me.

I raised my eyebrows, not sure if I should comfort her, apologize, or just start yelling again.

I tried to change the subject-honestly, I was curious. "Are all those books yours?"

She started crying.

I sat beside her and patted her shoulder. "Okay, calm down. I'm sorry."

It was the first time in years I'd said the word "sorry" to anyone. I surprised myself.

She wiped her tears and said quietly, "They're mine and my dad's. We used to go to the book fair every year together, since I was six. There are exactly 3,476 books in that library."

I straightened up, looking at her as she spoke. "You've read all of them?"

She nodded slowly. "All of them."

I was impressed.

Sure, I'm a successful businessman, a voracious reader, and cultured, but I haven't read that many books yet.

She swallowed hard, pointing at the water glass. I realized she was thirsty and handed it to her. She drank, then thanked me softly. "Thanks, but..."

She was starting to feel better and tried to get up. I helped her, holding her hands. "But you deserved that slap."

My eyes widened. "Me?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Because you're rude and disrespectful. You think all girls are like the ones you know, and you think you can force me to marry you. There's no way I'd ever marry someone like you-a brute and...."

This time, I "hit" her, but with my lips. I grabbed her head with my right hand, pulled her waist with my left, and kissed her hard, even though she was fully awake. She started hitting me, trying to push me away, but I kept kissing her until she kneed me between the legs with all her strength.

"You're crazy!" The pain was intense.

Suddenly, books started flying at my face, my head, my shoulders, my stomach-everywhere. "Get out! You brute, you jerk, you lowlife!"

"I'll show you. I swear on my mother, I'll marry you!" Now it was a challenge.

I liked her, but I also wanted to prove to myself she was just like the rest. I was convinced that after we got married I'd find out she wasn't really decent or anything.

As I was leaving the room, my eyes landed on her phone. I grabbed it-figured I'd find all sorts of dirt. Photos of her in nightgowns, pictures with guys, dirty messages.

She jumped up and tried to grab her phone. "Give me my phone! I hate you!"

I held her back with one hand, holding both her wrists as I searched through the phone.

But there was nothing. No indecent pictures-just photos of her with her friends in school uniforms, pictures with her late mom and dad, and childish messages with her girlfriends.

I smirked. "I'm sure I'll find guys' names and a ton of numbers."

She screamed, "Let go of me! I hate you!"

Not a single guy's name. All girls.

Then I found a contact labeled "My Love." I knew it-she had a boyfriend.

"I'm going to call him and find out if he's slept with you," I mocked.

Her reply shocked me. "He won't answer."

Sarcastically, I said, "Of course, he probably dumped you after he got what he wanted..."

I didn't get to finish. She cut me off, tears streaming down her face, "He won't answer because he's dead. 'My love'-that's my dad."