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❝Angels don't lie, but you do. If I'm a devil, what are you?❞
When Burq loses his memory in an accident and doesn't remember his own wife anymore, Leyla finds it a chance to escape her beastly husband and pretends to be his friend...
Just because you're soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color gold.
— Victoria Erickson
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He keeps staring at the boy who's poking the chocolate pastry. He's small and chubby, with his belly protruding and his pants barely holding his sweater in to keep it hidden. He licks his fingers, and Burq smiles to himself.
This is entertaining.
The morning is early and the air in the café is warm and cozy. He's glad to be sitting beside a window where he can cut time gazing at the world outside and watching this kid while he waits for her.
Leyla is late. Again.
The child starts whining over something and his mother tries to shush him. He's probably asking for more food, Burq thinks. This would explain his belly which is actually bigger for his age. Whining children can be annoying. He shifts his attention from the boy to outside the window. These hours of the morning are always beautiful.
"Can I get you something, sir?"
He looks up to the young waitress smiling at him. She has asked him twice already for his order, and both times he had told her he was waiting for someone. He feels being pestered.
"No," he replies sternly, this time not even bothering to thank her.
He notices her smile falter before she steps closer and artfully slips a paper to him. But before she can walk away, Burq nimbly captures her wrist and tugs her back.
"What is this?" he asks straightforwardly.
Her eyes flick around, making sure no one is regarding them. "My number, sir."
"What for?"
"If you're interested, I find you a handsome man."
He raises an incredulous eyebrow. The lie is too unconvincing to even pretend to believe it. "Even with a broken leg?"
She giggles absurdly at his question. He cannot understand what she finds funny about it. At least sitting in a wheelchair is no fun for him.
"What's a broken leg? It'll heal. I'm sure you've much more to offer." She winks at him, appearing devious.
Much more as in money? Did she gather so from his dressing, or conduct?
He takes a moment to study her. Beauty hasn't ever been a factor to appeal to him, but only as much as it can to a man. Although it has always been something more that hits his heart— something nameless. But something he certainly doesn't find in this woman, neither is he interested.
He smirks, placing the paper back on her palm and releases her wrist. "Your flattery is flat on me, lady. Don't waste your time."
Her expression instantly changes from cheerful and flirty to embarrassed and angry. She gives him a mean glare, a little too long to bore him enough that he turns his eyes back out of the window, and she storms off.
