All Chapters of Sold to the Prince of Dubai: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

LylaI don't remember when I'd finally gotten off Rashid's floor or walked out of his room, but when I finally blinked and came to again, I was heading down the stairway to the foyer.I could vaguely recognize I was hungry—maybe the reason why I'd finally started moving again. How many hours had passed by me while I sobbed on his floor, I had no idea. I half hoped he'd come in and happen upon me, distraught over seeing me lay in the fetal position and carry me to his bed, where he'd lay with me for the rest of the day, comforting me.Obviously, my wishful thinking hadn't happened, and I'd ended up feeling the shame of taking up space in his room when I know I shouldn't've been. Honestly, I was probably lucky no one else had caught me in there instead.When I reached the bottom of the stairs and hit the marble floor of the foyer, I looked up and blinked a few times—not exactly recognizing what I was seeing. In front of me stood the guards always stationed at th

RashidI followed Lyla out of the party.I wasn't getting stuck there by myself with happy people surrounding me. Even if it was to support my best friend, it sounded like torture. Lyla completely ignored me while we both passed through the entire palace, me right on her heels as she ran towards the east side where our bedrooms were. She bound up the stairs quickly, grabbing the ends of her dress to help her navigate the stairs better as she did so.I took them two-by-two, not wanting to let her gain too much of a start on me.As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she took off again, heading directly for her room.Her hijab had fallen from the top of her head as she'd run from the opposite side of the palace. The fabric billowed behind her, along with the rest of her dress she still had clutched in her hands.Sprinting for her, I grabbed onto her right as we passed my room. She gasped out loud and stumbled, her hands dropping her dress

RashidWhen I woke up again, I felt like I was in some kind of fever dream.I moved my arm under the covers over top of me, realizing after a minute the bed next to me was cold and devoid of Lyla. Lifting my head up from the comfort of my cocoon of blankets and pillows, I squinted in the poor lighting filtering into my bedroom. Figuring she'd gotten up to shower to prepare for the day ahead of us, I lifted myself up from the bed and rolled off it. When I looked over to my bathroom, though, I could tell that it was empty with no light on and the door open. A strange sense settled into my gut, telling me something was wrong. I ignored it, knowing paranoia was making my head feel worse. I grabbed a pair of sweats and pulled them on before heading out into the living area. I wasn't surprised not to find her there, I doubted if she'd actually gotten up for the day she'd be waiting in here for me.More than likely, she'd gone back to her room to fres

RashidI tore the letter from the notepad and crunched it into my hand, my thoughts racing. Track her down. That's what I needed to do.Turning on my heel, I raced out of Lyla's room and back to my own. I quickly grabbed a shirt from my floor and shoved my feet into a pair of shoes. I'd long since forgotten my phone, back somewhere in Lyla's room that I didn't care to retrieve.I needed to move. Quickly.Jogging back into the hallway, my feet pounded against the stairs while I descended, catching the attention of the guards waiting there along with someone I was in no mood to entertain."Move." I bit out, seeing Hafsa turn away from her guards and move closer to me. She was directly in the middle of the path leading out of the palace, my only way of getting a car and getting the hell out of here.I ignored her and glared at my guards. "How long ago?"There was no doubt they knew what I was talking about, not only judging from the way

LylaTwo Months Later…"—in other news, the price for gas and increased along with the spending budget for the—"Grabbing the remote, I flicked off the TV. Listening to more of that drivel was going to make my head melt. I slid off the couch and tossed the remote down onto the cushion I'd been preoccupying for the last five hours. Pressing a hand over my stomach, I groaned when it gurgled back at me. Ever since I'd gotten back from Dubai, I'd had the worst indigestion of my life.I had no clue if it was because I was eating American food or if my body was so over me shoving processed junk food down my throat from my depressive late-night binge eating, but after the past six weeks of dealing with this, I was starting to get really tired of it. I padded across my apartment and over into the kitchen to grab another glass of water. It was practically the only thing I could keep down at this point without wanting to immediately run to the bathroom an