Read Online Pretty Hot (The Pretty Trilogy Book 1) by Donna Alam - Free Book Online

woman seated to my left. Dressed in a long grey skirt, she balances a notebook and pen on her crossed knee. ‘When a first son is born, his father is given an honorific title, a kunya . The mum gets one, too. I’m Hala, by the way.’
    Hala’s accent is English with an inflection that makes me think she’s from London, but it’s almost like her accent has been modulated or ironed out.
    ‘What if the baby’s a girl?’
    ‘Nothing,’ she replies with a shrug. ‘It only changes for firstborn sons. In this case, Faris al Khalfan is Abu Kais.’
    Nothing for girls? Far out!
    ‘Thanks.’ I frown, trying to get my mind around the unfathomable, not to mention the blatant inequality. ‘I’m Kate.’
    ‘Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to pop in and say hello. Don’t worry, it takes a while.’ Leaning toward me conspiratorially, she whispers, ‘Pity it wasn’t the son presenting, Kai al Khalfan is seriously hot.’ Straightening abruptly, her eyes dart from side to side.
    At that moment, the coffee I’ve just brought to my lips is sprayed across the table as I literally choke . Kais  . . . Kai  . . . Surely not? All heads turn to me as I cough and splutter, trying to breathe through the inhaled liquid scalding the back of my throat. Energetic hands clap me on the back and a glass of water appears in front.
    ‘Sorry, it went down the wrong way,’ I apologize between wheezing breaths, trying to regain my composure. Switching back to English, Arwa continues the meeting, conversations fading away. My thoughts don’t move on much. Just how many hot Kai’s are there in Dubai? Gorgeous Kai’s with too full lips  . . . And yet, it would make sense insofar as him being at the school. Just another reason not to do him. Coffee, I mean do coffee! But—
    ‘Are you hot, Miss Kate?’ I’m pulled sharply from my musings by Sadia’s stage whisper.
    ‘Hot?’ I sit bolt straight, removing the forefinger from my bottom lip, not quite sure what it’s doing there.
    ‘You are becoming most red.’ She clucks her tongue in admonishment.
    ‘I—I’m good, Sadia. Fine, really,’ I whisper back, suddenly aware that the meeting has paused once more and all eyes have returned to me, the fire spreading through my body, accompanied now by a deep blush. I smile benignly and sink into my seat as Arwa clears her throat, regaining the room’s focus. Half listening to the resumed meeting, I attempt to school my thoughts.
    I hope lust isn’t a colour you can detect in someone’s blush. And the boss’s son. Now that wouldbe an epically bad move.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    ‘Oh my god, I love this song!’
    The music is loud, the base vibrating from through the floor to my feet as they itch with an uncharacteristic urge to dance. Aided by my share of the beer pitchers we’ve been drinking, and not so much by a dubious looking taco, my body sways with the music. But I’m not drunk, just . . . relaxed.
    Niamh and I, along with some of her friends, dined earlier in a Mexican style bar at one of Dubai’s less salubrious hotels. Agirl can’t dine five-star every day, at least not on my pay grade. Now in one of Jumeirah’s best clubs, which also happens to be on the same resort as the fabulous brunch hotel, we’re supposed to be starting the weekend in style.
    Matt nods encouragingly to my exuberance, his face wearing an odd kind of smile.
    So I smile back, though mine is more bemused, eyes drawing away to the dance floor. The place is buzzing and the floor packed, a sea of swaying humanity moving to the rhythms of some global beat.
    Hmm. Beer philosophy. Maybe I have had too much to drink.
    ‘There’s something so appropriately inappropriate about a man in mascara,’ I yell, standing on my tiptoes to better be heard. I have a major crush on the singer, even if he is gay. I quickly realise my mistake, not the crush, but the leaning, as Matt places both hands on my hips.
    ‘You’re full of surprises, pocket-rocket. What