Chapter★7 "Tension in the Air"

At Huda and Adam's place, they had both overslept.

He was the first to wake up—without making a sound, he went straight down to the sea for a swim.

Huda woke up and didn't find him next to her. She freshened up, changed, added a light touch of makeup, brushed her hair, and sat out on the balcony, phone in hand.

She looked up and saw Adam coming up toward her, water dripping from his body. He was shirtless, wearing only shorts.

Her gaze dropped to his chest—his body sculpted, his abs perfectly defined, his shoulders wide. Light tattoos scattered across his chest and arms gave him an even more magnetic allure.

She noticed him looking at her and smiling. She quickly looked down at her phone, avoiding his eyes, while whispering internally—without moving her lips:

(softly) "Just imagine, girl... all this beauty and form, and in the end, what if there's nothing between his legs? What a tragedy—that would be the end of all dreams and desires."

He hadn't touched her the night before. Not even a brush. Not a single move. That made her suspicious—maybe he was one of those guys who look perfect on the outside but are completely lacking where it counts.

She lifted her head again just as he stood in front of her, his massive figure blocking the sun.

Adam: "You're awake. You must be starving—you waited a while, huh?"

Huda: "Not really… I just woke up actually."

Adam: "Alright. I'll order us something. It should be here by the time I finish showering."

Huda put her phone aside and stood up slowly in front of him.

(calmly) "Do you want help with anything?"

He stepped closer, voice laced with mischief:

Adam: "In the shower?"

She smiled at his vivid imagination.

Huda: "You're thinking too far. I meant getting your clothes ready."

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

Adam: "I can manage clothes just fine. But if you really want to help me with something else… I won't say no."

(He took another step closer.)

"What do you say?"

She pressed her hands to his chest, firm and warm, stopping him from getting closer. Her tone was challenging:

Huda: "You had your chance. You blew it. Now, wait until I decide whether you'll get another one."

He gripped the hand she had on his chest and looked her in the eye:

Adam: "If you're talking about last night—I chose to let you rest. You were exhausted and stressed out all day. But the next chance I get—I won't waste it. I'll grab it with both hands.

And just so you know—tonight… you're not getting away." (He winked.)

She stared at him, speechless, unsure how to respond.

He turned to walk away but suddenly stopped, like he remembered something. He came back toward her.

She looked at him curiously, expecting him to say something.

But instead, he caught her chin with his hand, gently but firmly, forcing her lips to pout.

Under her surprised gaze, he leaned in and kissed her lips—his eyes locked on hers the entire time.

It was quick—a stolen kiss—then he disappeared into the shower, leaving her frozen.

She sat back down, dazed, occasionally running her finger across her lips, thinking about that kiss.

She had assumed that even if he touched her, it wouldn't affect her…

But just a kiss had unraveled her.

What would happen if it was more?

At the company…

She came out of the bathroom after fixing herself up and returned to her seat.

She looked around, searching for the group of girls who had been waiting earlier—only one was left before her, then it would be her turn.

She turned to the girl with a questioning tone:

Huda: "Sis, where did all those other girls go? Did they leave? They're not coming in anymore?"

The girl: "No, they all went in."

Huda: "All of them? That fast? How'd they get through so quickly?"

The girl: "Yep. All went in. And all got rejected. Apparently, the guy looking for a secretary is super strict—doesn't waste time. He'll reject you before you even sit down. Doesn't even bother pretending he'll call back."

Huda bit her lip nervously.

Huda: "Wow… is this guy Azrael or what? If they all got rejected, I probably will too. Maybe I should just go back home."

The girl: "Don't give up. Try your luck—you never know. If you leave without trying, you'll regret it. You'll wonder, 'What if I'd just gone in? Maybe I would've been accepted.' Don't be scared. Inshallah, God won't let you down."

Huda smiled at her:

Huda: "Let's hope so, sis. May God help you too and make things easy."

The girl: "Ameen, beauty."

At that moment, they called the girl in by her name. Huda watched her go in, then sat waiting, anxiety rising.

She told herself: If that girl gets accepted, I won't even try—there's only one position open anyway.

It didn't take long. The girl walked out with sadness etched across her face. Clearly, she'd been rejected too.

Huda tapped her foot nervously, then stood to leave—but just as she turned, she heard her name being called.

…: "Imane Qaissi, please come in."

She froze for a moment, unsure whether to go in or run.

Finally, she took a deep breath, pushed the door open cautiously, and stepped into the office.

Her heart pounded.

She was usually fearless in interviews, but after what the girl had said about the boss being "ruthless"… fear took over.

She saw a man seated at the desk, eyes down on his papers.

She took one step toward him when his voice stopped her cold.

Boss (harsh tone): "Get out."

She swallowed hard, confused.

Was she rejected already? She hadn't even said a word yet!

Imane (shaky voice): "But I didn't say anything yet… why am I being rejected?"

He stayed silent for a moment, flipping through papers without looking up.

Boss (coldly): "Leave. And when you want to come in—knock first. Then wait to see if I even allow you to enter."

Only then did she realize her mistake. She nodded.

Apparently, he was watching her without looking.

She did exactly what he said—walked out, shut the door, knocked…

Waited.

When she heard a cold, "Enter," she pushed the door open slowly and came back in.

She stepped toward the desk and was about to sit—but saw the nameplate:

"Ubaid Al-Seddiqi."

Before she could process it, his voice cut through the air, dripping with disdain:

Ubaid: "Did I tell you to sit down?"

She stood up straight, apologizing:

Imane: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

He looked at her with thinly veiled disgust, eyeing her from head to toe.

Ubaid (commanding): "Sit."

That's when it hit her.

He was the same man she'd argued with in the elevator.

Now she knew—if she stayed, he'd crush her, humiliate her.

She turned to leave.

Ubaid (angrily): "Did I give you permission to leave? Get back here."

She shut her eyes tight, trying to calm herself down—to not explode and get security called on her.

She took a deep breath, turned toward him with a forced smile and a sarcastic tone:

Imane: "So you're the one who gives all the orders? Knock before entering. Don't sit unless you say so. Don't even leave unless you approve? What's next—do we need your permission to breathe?"

He stared at her in silence… then slowly looked down again at his papers, ignoring her outburst.

Ubaid (coldly): "Sit back down. I haven't dismissed you yet."

Imane was still sitting across from Obeid, who was grilling her about her CV and whether she had any experience in this field. She answered him sometimes with words, other times with just a nod, until he finally snapped at her to speak with her mouth, not her head—he wasn't talking to some shy little girl, after all.

She was holding the paper he had handed her—the company's behavioral protocol—and reading through it carefully to understand what was expected of her. To ease her nerves, she had the pen he gave her in her mouth, twirling it around with her tongue like a little kid. Her innocent features only added to that childlike image.

Obeid, on the other hand, wasn't focusing on the document at all.

No.

His eyes were locked on that pen… how it glistened with her saliva, how her lips played with it like it was nothing. Then his gaze dropped—slowly—to her chest, subtly visible through the slightly open buttons of her shirt. He scanned her top to bottom. If his eyes could speak, they would've moaned.

Snapping him out of it was her voice—still holding the pen in her mouth.

Imane:

"But… this paper is just about how to behave with you. There's nothing about the actual job or the position I'm supposed to be doing."

Obeid, coldly:

"If you follow the protocol exactly the way I ask, that's what matters. The position is to be my secretary. I think that's clear enough."

Imane's eyes lit up.

"So… you mean I got the job?"

Obeid exhaled sharply, annoyed, and glared at her:

"Who am I even talking to? A little girl?"

She blinked in confusion, unsure why he was suddenly irritated.

Obeid, with a snap:

"Take that pen out of your mouth. You're not in kindergarten."

Imane instantly removed the pen and wiped her lips in an adorably awkward way.

"Sorry! I didn't realize… I was nervous."

Obeid, nonchalantly:

"You can go. On your way out, someone will give you the documents to sign and your access badge. That'll let you come and go freely and check on what's needed for your role."

She stood up with a bright, grateful smile, nodding sweetly like a bobblehead—then paused, remembering he hated when she answered with just head gestures.

Imane:

"Right. Thank you so much, sir. I hope I'll live up to your expectations and—"

He stared at her coldly, expecting her to continue.

Imane, hesitantly:

"Also… I wanted to apologize for what happened in the elevator. I was really nervous and when I said—"

Obeid, cutting in calmly:

'Uncle?'

Imane's face flushed bright red.

"I only said that to annoy you, okay? You annoyed me first. Obviously, you don't look like someone's uncle or anything…"

She trailed off as he stood up, hands casually tucked in his pockets, walking toward her with that intimidating calm.

Obeid, flatly:

"Finish your sentence."

She fumbled, trying to remember what she was saying.

"Never mind, I'm done. Can I leave now?"

He stepped even closer, gazing straight into her soul.

"You said I don't look like someone's uncle. So… what do I look like to you?"

Imane's mouth opened—then closed again.

"Um… you don't really fit into any 'category,' actually. I don't have a… a label for someone like you."

Obeid:

"A label?"

She realized what she just said and started panicking internally.

"Oh my God. Please pretend I didn't say that. Can I please just go?"

He nodded once. She didn't wait a second. She turned to leave—only to bang her leg against the side of the desk and knock over a decorative glass piece that fell and shattered on the floor.

Imane let out a soft cry, grabbing her shin in pain, little gasps escaping her lips as she bit down on her bottom lip. The sound of her whimpering, the way she crouched down, rubbing her leg so gently—it all hit Obeid hard. He was watching her, eyes dark, tugging slightly at his tie to loosen it.

Imane, still crouched and rubbing her knee:

"Ow… ohh… my leg…"

She glanced up and saw his expression. Thinking he was pissed about the broken decoration, she quickly stood up, wincing.

Imane, apologetically:

"I'm so sorry! You can deduct the cost from my first paycheck or something. I didn't mean to… seriously, my bad!"

He didn't respond. He simply gestured silently with his hand for her to leave.

She took the hint and practically fled, muttering curses at her own clumsiness all the way out the door.

Back inside, Obeid sat down at his desk, trying to shake off the images in his mind—but every time he looked at a document or lifted a pen, his mind went right back to that scene: the pen in her mouth, her soft gasps, her innocent—yet oddly alluring—energy.

Something about her stirred something he hadn't felt in years.

It wasn't her looks. Not just her body.

It was… her presence.

That raw, unfiltered magnetism.

Obeid had always been hard to please. No woman had ever quite struck that match within him—not since her… the only woman who'd ever truly satisfied both his instincts and his taste.

But now?

This clueless, clumsy girl just might be the spark he didn't know he'd been missing.

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To be continued...

Barbie just shook up Mr. Obeid's world 😮‍💨💥