Page 19 of Her Irresistible Sheik
Desmond nodded.
Mikail raised a hand.“Also…” He looked down at the scone still sitting like an accusation on the corner of his desk.“Find out why she’s baking.And if I’m going to need structural reinforcements for my countertops.”
Desmond, to his credit, didn’t react.He just nodded with that same efficient solemnity and slipped away to do Mikail’s bidding.
Left alone, Mikail stared at the “scone.”He couldn’t throw it away.Not because he wanted to eat it—he valued his dental work too much—but because something about the thought of her finding out… the look on her face if she thought he’d rejected her attempt…
He growled and shoved the scone to the farthest corner of his desk.That was safer.Emotionally.Possibly structurally.
He was unraveling.
This was not how things were supposed to go.Princess Nahla Al-Sintra was supposed to be a porcelain doll with a dozen assistants and no spine.Spoiled.Vain.Bored.Someone who would sneer at his palace and complain about the thread count in the guest sheets.
Instead, she was quiet.Kind.Witty.She tried.She failed.She tried again.
And she was sexy as hell in a flour-covered apron.
When Saif had called asking for the favor, Mikail had agreed without hesitation.He hated owing anyone.Preferred to be the one calling in debts, not paying them.
But nothing could have prepared him for this.
Forher.
Now here he was—sitting behind a desk, glaring at a pastry that could double as a discus, completely unable to focus on national infrastructure because a beautiful, stubborn woman had flour on her eyelashes and dusting her hair.
Hell.He was doomed.
Chapter 11
Leona hung up the phone, her fingers still curled around the receiver long after the call ended.A weird, twitchy feeling danced along her spine—a sensation she didn’t like one bit.
She hadn’t grown up trusting gut instincts.Hunger had trained that out of her early.When your mom chose pills over groceries, you learned to stop expecting things to get better.But computers?Computers were consistent.Logical.No one ever cried or OD’d because a code broke down.The program either worked or it didn’t.And that clarity had been salvation.
She glanced at her five monitors and the soft purr of a dozen cooling fans.They were more family than anything she’d ever grown up with.
At first her coding had been innocent.Hacking her school’s database to "adjust" some test scores for a few evil bullies had given her the rush she used to gain while playing video games.But once she felt the thrill of slipping past digital locks and seeing things she wasn’t supposed to see?That was it.She was hooked.
Next came her friend’s strep prescription.She’d gotten through the prescription database to order the medicine, coding it to be already paid.That had saved her friend’s life.After that, she’d gone bigger, targeting the pharmacy system.Then a bank account adjustment for a teacher’s mom who’d been scammed.Leona hadn’t considered it hacking.Not really.More like...digital karma.
And sure, over time, the jobs became bigger.Trickier.More lucrative.
She didn’t need a college degree—she spoke fluent algorithm.And her resume?Anonymous, encrypted, and whispered about in digital alleys across the dark web.If you needed something impossible, you neededher.Not that anyone knew who "her" was.They used passwords.Protocols.Firewalls within firewalls.
Except Clyde.
Clyde had found her.And that man scared the crap out of her.
He had the emotional depth of a toaster oven.His eyes didn’t blink.She’d swear on a Bible the man could stare down a shark and win.
Which is exactly why she charged him double.
He never argued.The man probably knew she was overcharging him.Probably didn’t care.Clyde wasn’t in the business of arguing.He was in the business of killing.And if he wanted access to certain information, he paid Leona and walked away.
Usually.
But now…
She swiveled in her beloved leather desk chair—one of the few splurges she’d allowed herself—and took stock of her life.
