Chapter Fifty-Eight

“Rafiq, are you drunk?” Ziza sniffed a little, but she could only smell his cologne.

“No,” he laughed, “not at all.” He found the little frown she made at him endearing.

Again, Rafiq was glad he had worn his robes over the constricted confinements of a suit. They allowed enough room to disguise just how sober his brain was concerning her. That’s if he sat in a certain position.

“Drugs?”

At first he frowned, then he lifted his eyebrows, “I—you know I do not do drugs.”

“Well, pardon me for assuming. You’re acting weird ad you’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”

“My apologies amyrti, I’m all ears now.” He sat up and fixed his gaze on hers.

“Had it crossed your mind even for a second that I wanted to spend time with other people before you barged your way there?” Her eyes narrowed as her frown deepened.