Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners 3)

Nisa’s face crumbles, and I’m yanked into a tight hug. “Does he return your feelings?”

I nod against her shoulder. “I think so.”

“Allah Allah, this is a great blessing.” She pushes me back by my shoulders. “Tomorrow, I’ll style your hair and help you with your makeup. You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the party.”

I nod, and laughter bubbles over my lips. “I can’t wait.”

She pushes me back into the bedroom. “Change so we can get to work. The family will arrive at ten am. We need to have everything ready.”

I wait for Nisa to leave the room, then carefully step out of the gown. I let it hang against my closet door, so I can see it whenever I’m in the room.

I quickly dress in a pair of light blue jeans and a soft cream sweater, then slip on the black ballet flats again. I rush through my morning routine before hurrying to the kitchen.

I’m so busy, time flies. As I place a tray of baklava on a cooling rack, Nisa comes into the kitchen, grumbling, “They’re already driving me insane.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, in no hurry to meet them.

“Nisa Hanim, this. Nisa Hanim, that,” she keeps grumbling.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

She gives me a pleading look. “Will you take tea to them? They’re in the sitting room with Alya Hanim.”

“Of course.” I quickly prepare the tray and give Nisa a cup so she can rest while I tend to the guests.

When I enter the east wing, I hear a burst of loud laughter. I don’t understand what’s being said as they’re speaking Turkish.

The moment I walk into the sitting room, the conversation stops. I glance at the two women, noticing their features are much darker than Alya’s. They have curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and it looks like they’ve been in the sun for days.

“Bu kadin kim?” The older woman asks.

“This is Lara,” Alya Hanim answers. “Lara, this is Gabriel’s aunt and cousin, Ayesenur Hanim and Eslem.”

“No Turkish?” Ayesenur Hanim asks.

“No, Lara’s Polish.”

“Allah Allah. Neden Polonyali bir hizmetçi tuttun?” Ayesenur Hanim exclaims, looking as if she’s been insulted.

“English, Ayesenur. Lara doesn’t understand Turkish,” Alya Hanim chastises the older woman. “And I’ll hire whom I please.” She turns her attention to me. “Set the tray down, Lara.”

Oh. Right.

The younger woman, who seems to be in her early thirties, looks me up and down as if I’m dirty, making me feel uncomfortable. Then she comments, “She’s young for a maid.”

“Allah Allah! Lara’s not a maid. She’s just helping Nisa until she starts her studies,” Alya Hanim snaps.

I think I should leave. My presence seems to be upsetting everyone.

Giving Alya Hanim a tentative smile, I quickly exit the room and hurry to the kitchen.

“How did it go?” Nisa asks.

I widen my eyes. “I think my presence upset them.”

She waves a hand. “Those two live for drama. Trust me, it’s nothing you did.”

Now that we have a moment to breathe, I ask, “Do you think I can phone Gabriel to thank him for the gown, or should I wait until he’s home?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Wait until he’s home. He’s busy with work.”

Pouring tea for us, I sit down at the table.

Nisa gives me an inquisitive look. “Did he say you must only call him by his first name?”

I nod, then take a sip of my tea.

She leans forward, her expression telling me she wants to know everything.

I hesitate, not sure what I’m allowed to share. I’ve learned Gabriel is very private, and I don’t want to upset him.

“Allah Allah, tell me everything!” she exclaims impatiently.

I give her an apologetic look. “I’m not sure what I’m allowed to share.”

Excitement widens her eyes. “Has he kissed you?”

A shy smile spreads over my face, making Nisa almost jump out of her chair with happiness.

“So this is what the help does during the day,” Eslem suddenly says as she saunters into the kitchen. “I have to bring the tray back because you’re too busy chatting.”

I dart up and quickly take the tray from her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nisa snaps. “Eslem has two hands.”

My eyes widen when Eslem levels Nisa with a glare. “How dare you? Alya Hanim clearly allows you to do whatever you want, but you won’t talk to me like that. Know your place, servant.”

It looks like Nisa’s about to burst a vein as she rises to her feet. I quickly set the tray down and move in front of Nisa. Keeping my tone respectful, as if I’m dealing with Tymon, I say, “We apologize, Eslem Hanim. Is there anything else you need?”

She looks at me as if I’m trash, then lifts her chin and leaves the kitchen.

I quickly turn around. Nisa’s red in her face, her hands shaking. I take hold of them. “It’s okay. Shh.” Not knowing what else to do, I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. “I’m sorry.”