HIJABI ✔️

Chapter 43

Ruqayyah's POV

Arriving at Alex's house... more like a mansion, let's say... I notice the many guards outside and one of them approaches me as soon as I leave my car.

"You must be Ruqayyah. He's waiting for you." The security guard from the door says as he opens the large door for me.

The house was indeed big, but I couldn't care less. I was looking for a familiar face in there.

"This way, Ruqayyah," A woman inside says, whom I suppose is the maid.

Everyone seemed to know my name here. What is going on?

She guided me to a door and knocked on it before walking behind me. The door was opened a few seconds later and my heart immediately raced to the face of the person behind the door.

It wasn't Alex, it was his dad. He was standing right in front of me.

Where the heck is Alex and why would they guide me in here?

"Welcome." He says with a smile, which was obviously mischievous.

"Where's Alex?" That's all I cared about.

"He left an hour ago, but he will come back soon. Please do come in." He responds as he makes space for me to enter.

"Tell him I came." I say and turn back to leave, but the maid stands in front of me.

"I'm afraid you can not leave, Miss." She says and I notice the sorry in her expression.

"I suppose you received a message saying it was Alex right?" Mr Turner speaks and I turn to him, "Well, it was not. I just want to have a talk with you and I will dismiss you."

I can not believe I fell into a trap.

I reluctantly walk in and stay the furthest possible from him. I'm in a room with the businessman that hates the Muslims the most. He could kill me right now.

How could I not suspect something was wrong? Why did I not call Alex on his number instead?

"Please have a seat," He says as he sat on his grandious chair.

"I'm fine here."

"Suit yourself." He smiles before pouring himself a glass of some kind of alcoholic drink.

He takes a sip out of it before speaking, "Do you want some?"

"I do not drink." I don't even know why I'm answering. It's obvious he's playing with me.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot you were a Muslim. Well, of course I did not forget, but it is rather strange. You know you are the first Muslim ever to step in my house?" He points out, "You should feel proud."

"I'm not at all proud. Now if you would just go straight to the point." I say, indicating my annoyance gaining a smile of amusement from him.

"My son is obsessed with you." He states before taking the cup to his lips again, "He calls it love," He laughs amused, "But I know You have something to do with this. Which fortune teller did you go to?" He asks and no wonder that would be his first guess. He doesn't seem to know much about love. "Don't act surprised. My son would never dare to disobey me. Even less, move out without my permission. Lately he is surprising me in every single way possible. He even quit real work to become a footballer." He pronounces the last word with disgust, "All because of you." He drinks a little bit before continuing, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Why is it so hard to let your son make his own decisions? He's an adult and he certainly knows what he wants. You treat him as if he was your property, when actually he is only your son." I find the courage to speak against him.