I clutched the black eyeliner in my hand, my fingers tightening around it like a vice. The second Rami slid back into the car with that damn Kunafa box, I held it up, my voice sharp.
"Whose is this?"
He barely glanced at it before shrugging. "I don’t know. If it’s not yours, maybe it’s my secretary’s. She came with me to the last meeting—probably dropped it."
Probably dropped it. The words echoed in my head, mocking me. I felt heat rise in my chest, my pulse hammering. "Of course she dropped it," I snapped, my voice trembling. "While she was laughing hysterically at your silly jokes, right?"
Rami’s eyes widened, startled. "Dema, stop yelling. We’re in the middle of the street—"
I didn’t care. The image of her—whoever she was—sitting in my seat, laughing, touching his arm, fi
