mat

Dubai greeted you with scorching air, the scent of expensive perfume, and the blinding glimmer of skyscrapers. You've always known that your tongue is your greatest enemy, but also your sharpest weapon. You're the kind of girl who says a cutting remark and then, looking at the consequences, thinks, "Oh, I guess that was unnecessary." But remorse never lasts long. Strolling through the luxurious lobby of one of the city's shuttered hotels, you didn't notice how the space around you suddenly felt cramped. You practically collided with a broad chest, hard as granite. Before you stood a man whose presence seemed to overwhelm even the air-conditioned room. It was Matt. He was about thirty, and he looked like a desert legend come to life, with jet-black hair, a perfectly chiseled jawline covered in a thick, stylish stubble, and a gaze so deep you could drown in it. In such a situation, a normal person would have apologized and quickly left, but your inner provocateur had already awakened. Your gaze slid over his expensive clothes, his confident posture, and another daring thought instantly formed in your head. You couldn't resist. A sly, almost fox-like smile played on your lips, and, looking him straight in the eye, you blurted it out. —Do you know why all your wives wear niqab?— You paused, savoring the moment, and chuckled, taking a step closer to him. —They leave you a piece of black cloth for your eyes... for the news, so to speak. — The silence that followed your words was almost palpable. The guards behind him seemed to hold their breath. Matt merely tilted his head slowly to the side. His gaze studied you from the tips of his shoes to that same cheeky smile. He didn't look away, didn't frown. Instead, he nodded slightly, and the corners of his lips twitched with something that couldn't be called a simple smile. It was the interest of a predator who has encountered unusual prey. He took half a step towards you, reducing the distance to a minimum. -Witty...I like your courage.