Page 35 of Her Irresistible Sheik (Al-Sintra Family #9)

She’d found him!

Leona leaned back, arms crossed as her program sifted through Hector’s browsing history, then his emails.

No red flags. After that, she combed through his social media—not the curated content he posted, but the videos and memes he watched, the accounts he followed silently.

That kind of stuff was far more revealing than public posts.

Once she was confident Hector Finsworth was not only talented but also a decent human being, Leona dialed his number. Tension buzzed in her shoulders as she listened to the line ring.

It rang longer than she expected.

Then—“Hello?” a groggy voice mumbled.

She winced, glancing at the time. Darn it! She hadn’t factored in the time zone difference.

“Sorry to bother you at,” she quickly calculated, “three a.m. your time. I—uh—just…”

“Is this Leona Hapsley?”

Leona froze. Her stomach flipped. How the hell did he know her name?!

“Um…?”

“You’ve been looking into my background,” he said, less groggy now. She heard rustling—bedsheets? Probably fumbling for glasses. “Did I pass your inspection?”

Leona clenched her jaw, both irritated and a little…intrigued. He’d tracked her back ? And here she thought she was the best. Turns out, she might’ve just met her match.

“You pass,” she replied coolly—though the slight breathlessness in her voice betrayed her. She sat up straighter and tapped her keyboard, pulling up his file again. His photo filled one monitor and, yeah, okay, he was cute. Nerdy cute . Which was very much her type.

“I need to talk to you about a man named Clyde,” she said, cutting to the chase. “No last name, but he’s dangerous.”

More rustling. What was he wearing? Pajama pants? Boxers? One of those worn-out T-shirts tech guys refused to throw away? She glanced down at her own hoodie and sweats and sighed.

“We know about Clyde,” Hector replied, his voice clearer now. “We’ve got him on security footage.”

Leona blinked. “You mean from the puppy shelter site?”

“No,” he said, and she could hear the amused twist in his voice. “I mean, inside the palace. On our security cameras.”

She sat up straighter. “Wait— what ? Clyde got caught on camera? Your cameras? That’s impossible. I gave him a full map of every lens and blind spot!”

Hector chuckled—a deep, nerdy sound that did unfortunate things to her pulse. “He was wounded ,” he said, like that explained everything. “Princess Nahla al-Sintra shot him in the ass while practicing archery. He was limping, distracted, bleeding—sloppy.”

Leona stared at her monitor, stunned. Clyde. The ghost. The guy no one ever saw, caught because of a clumsy getaway and a beginner’s arrow?

“Shot in the ass ,” she repeated, incredulous.

“Yup,” Hector confirmed, clearly delighted. “We’d already suspected he was after her, but that kind of confirmed it.”

What was meant to be a quick call turned into an hour of laughter and intel-swapping. Then two. They talked about Clyde, shared theories, compared notes. Somewhere along the line, things got personal.

He told her about the time he tried playing pickleball and missed every shot because his eyes couldn’t focus fast enough—he was both near-sighted and far-sighted. She snorted into the phone. He chuckled and admitted he wore the wrong shoes too.

In return, she told him about the time she’d hacked her high school’s system senior year and changed the grades of three mean girls, making them repeat a class over the summer.

“They cheated anyway,” she added with mock innocence.

He laughed so hard she could hear him wheezing.

By the time they hung up, Leona couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a phone call that much. Maybe ever.

And yeah, she definitely wanted to talk to Hector Finsworth again.

Soon.