Nuha had barely recovered from the morning in Rayyan's office when a message buzzed on her phone: "Meeting moved earlier. Prepare to leave in 10 minutes."
Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't even had time to properly adjust her outfit or settle her nerves. She glanced at her scarf, still perfectly in place after Rayyan's morning adjustment, and smoothed it out one more time.
"Okay, Nuha," she muttered under her breath, "Professional. Focus. Just a meeting. Nothing more."
By the time she reached the lobby, Rayyan was already waiting, looking composed as ever, a sleek leather folder in hand. But there was something in the way he held himself today, a quiet intensity that made her pulse race.
"Good afternoon," she said, trying to sound steady as she joined him.
"Afternoon, Miss Nuha," he replied, voice calm, professional—but she noticed the faint rise in his tone, almost imperceptible, like a note of attention reserved only for her.
"Traffic… was okay," she added, trying to make conversation, though her heart was already pounding.
"Good," Rayyan said simply, and they walked toward the car in silence.
Inside the vehicle, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Nuha gripped her bag nervously. "Just a client meeting," she reminded herself. But every glance at Rayyan's profile, the way his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, made her stomach flutter.
He glanced at her briefly. "I trust you're prepared for the meeting?"
"Yes, sir," she said, a little too quickly. *Too quickly,* she realized, and took a slow breath to steady herself. "I've reviewed the proposals and the client reports."
"Good." His eyes softened for just a fraction of a second before he returned to professional mode. "I expect no errors."
"Understood."
Nuha's hands clenched slightly in her lap. "He's going to notice me sweating if I'm not careful…"
The restaurant was sleek and modern, overlooking the city streets. Rayyan guided her toward the table. She noticed a few glances from other patrons, but she kept her head high. She felt self-conscious, aware that Rayyan's presence added an invisible shield, yet also made her stand out.
As they approached the table, Rayyan leaned slightly toward her. "Miss Nuha, sit. I'll handle introductions. Focus on observing and taking notes."
"Yes, sir," she said, lowering herself into the chair. She tried to relax, but her fingers fidgeted with her scarf, the memory of his hand adjusting it still fresh.
Across the table, the clients greeted Rayyan warmly. He introduced Nuha smoothly, giving her the perfect balance of acknowledgment and discretion.
"This is Nuha," he said, voice calm, professional, yet the slight warmth in his tone didn't go unnoticed. "She'll be assisting with all reports and notes during today's discussion."
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Nuha," one of the clients said, smiling politely.
"Likewise," Nuha replied, bowing slightly.
Rayyan gave her a subtle nod, as if to say: "Good. Keep your composure."
As the discussion unfolded, Nuha took notes diligently, occasionally glancing at Rayyan for cues. He was precise, commanding, yet attentive. Every time he gestured toward her, offering a document or emphasizing a point, her heart skipped.
At one point, a client asked for a clarification on some figures. Nuha hesitated briefly, remembering her morning anxiety, but she spoke clearly and confidently.
"Based on the updated Q2 report," she said, "we adjusted the projections to account for the recent market shifts. This ensures a more accurate forecast for the upcoming quarter."
Rayyan's eyes flicked toward her, approving, though his expression remained neutral. "Exactly. Well said."
Nuha's chest puffed slightly with pride, but her mind immediately reminded her: "Keep professional. Don't melt under his gaze."
As lunch arrived, Rayyan made a point to handle everything efficiently, ordering for both of them in a manner that left Nuha impressed.
"You didn't let me choose?" Nuha asked lightly, trying to inject some humor into the tension.
"I assumed you'd approve of anything I choose," he replied coolly.
Nuha raised an eyebrow. "Confident, aren't we?"
"I'm practical," he said simply.
Nuha laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Practical… or bossy?"
Rayyan's lips twitched, almost a smile, but he didn't indulge her. He passed her a menu anyway. "Choose quickly. We have limited time before the client has other appointments."
Her eyes scanned the menu, but she found herself distracted. She noticed the way he subtly adjusted his posture, how the light caught his hair, and distracting her completely..how his sleeve brushed against his wrist, just like in the office that morning.
"Focus, Nuha. Focus." She muttered internally
Halfway through the meal, Nuha noticed Rayyan placing his hand gently near hers on the table, seemingly by accident, but she wasn't fooled. Her heart jumped.
"Miss Nuha," he said quietly, "you've been handling everything well today. Keep it up."
"Thank you, sir," she replied softly, cheeks heating.
His gaze lingered a fraction too long. "Are you comfortable?"
"Yes, sir. Everything is fine," she said, trying to steady her breathing. "Why is he asking?"
"Good. Let's maintain this pace," he said, returning fully to professional mode.
A client asked Nuha a question about the projections. Her mind raced, and she nearly fumbled the answer. Rayyan's hand subtly rested near hers, giving her the confidence to respond smoothly.
"Yes," she said confidently. "Based on the latest trends, we adjusted the numbers to reflect the projected market behavior."
The client nodded. "Excellent. That's very thorough."
Rayyan's eyes met hers for a split second, and she felt a warm rush in her chest. She imagined what Nawal would tease her about later if she told her: "He's so subtle but you feel like the world stops when he looks at you."
The lunch meeting had been progressing smoothly. Nuha had answered every question with poise, her notes detailed, and her calm demeanor impressed the clients. Rayyan observed silently, posture perfect, composed, but inside he felt a quiet tension building. Every time Nuha spoke, he noticed how effortlessly she captured attention, her intelligence, her charm, her grace.
Then one of the clients, a sharply dressed man with a warm, friendly smile, leaned slightly forward, addressing Nuha directly.
"Miss Nuha," he said, tone casual but admiring, "I must say… you're not just incredibly intelligent, your insights are impressive, but also… your elegance, your poise… it's impossible not to notice. Truly exceptional."
Nuha froze for a moment, cheeks flushing crimson. She looked down at her notebook, trying to regain her composure.
"Th-thank you," she murmured softly, glancing at Rayyan for support. He was watching the client closely, his face calm and professional, but she sensed the faint edge in his expression.
The client leaned in slightly, his eyes warm. "Actually… I'd like to contact you directly. Could I have your number?"
Nuha's heart skipped a beat. She blinked, surprised, flustered. "M-my… number?" she stammered, fingers tightening around her pen.
"Yes," he said smoothly. "For any follow-ups or questions regarding the proposals. Of course, only professional matters."
Rayyan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He maintained a polite smile, turning slightly toward the client as if to continue the discussion, but his eyes flickered briefly toward Nuha. There was a protective tension there, subtle but undeniable.
"He's asking for her number?" he thought, feeling a small sting of jealousy. "I've been watching out for her all morning… and now someone else gets this kind of access?"
Nuha, cheeks burning, dug into her bag for her phone. "I… I suppose… yes," she murmured, trying to steady her voice. She handed her phone to the client, and he typed in his contact details carefully.
"Thank you, Miss Nuha," the client said warmly. "I look forward to working with you directly."
Rayyan, maintaining his professional mask, nodded politely. "Excellent. Now, shall we refocus on the projections for the next quarter?"
Internally, he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to ignore the pang in his chest. He watched her respond to the next question flawlessly, taking notes with precision, and silently acknowledged the pride he felt tempered with possessiveness.
"She's brilliant… and beautiful…" he thought, clenching his jaw. "But no one else should be in her world like that. Not yet."
As the meeting wrapped up, Rayyan leaned slightly closer to her, his voice low but still professional.
"Miss Nuha," he said, and she looked up, startled by the calm intensity in his tone. "I want your number as well. For work purposes, urgent messages, updates, emergencies. I need to reach you directly if necessary."
Nuha blinked, heart racing. "M-my… sir?" she stammered.
"Direct communication," he clarified, voice calm, composed, but there was now a subtle weight behind it, a claim he wasn't verbally acknowledging. "You understand?"
"Yes, sir… of course," she replied softly, fumbling slightly as she unlocked her phone.
He typed his own number into her phone, handed it back with a slight nod. "Done. And Miss Nuha… stay alert. The next client follow-up might require immediate attention."
"Yes, sir," she murmured, cheeks warm, her pulse racing. She touched her scarf gently, remembering his hand adjusting it earlier that morning. Professional… and personal at the same time…
As the clients gathered their papers and the discussion wound down, Nuha felt her mind swirling.
"He… he asked for my number. And he didn't hesitate. In front of the client…"
Her heartbeat quickened, warmth spreading across her chest. She stole a glance at Rayyan. His face was calm, perfectly professional, but she sensed the tension, he had been quietly protective all through the meeting, and now, seeing someone else compliment her… she could feel it.
"Why does it feel like my heart is racing faster when he's near?" she thought, biting her lip to suppress a tiny smile. "And why does he care so much without saying a word?"
Every small gesture, the way he handed her the folder, the subtle, glance when the client complimented her made her pulse leap. She realized, quietly, that nothing in her life had made her feel this alive, this… noticed.