His Muslim Maid

Ch1♥iMeet The Boss♥

♥| Jasmine's POV | ♥

I kept staring at the building. I've never seen any place more beautiful... I think this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Whoever lives here must be filthy rich. I can't believe I'm going to work here! As a maid. I know it may sound like a strange job for a hijabi like me... But I'm actually happy that I'm going to have a job. I've always loved cooking and baking since I was a little girl. I get a lots of compliments when people eat or see my recipes. My name is Jasmine Jamal, and I'm eighteen. Both of my parents died when I was only four years old. That was the time when my little precious brother, Tariq was born. Since both of my parents are no longer alive, Tariq and I grew up in my uncle's house. Life wasn't perfect, but it's getting a little better over time. The kids in the house were extremely unmannered I hated them with a passion, but I never showed it. My uncle had two wives, which made things even worse than they already were. The first wife had four sons and two very obnoxious daughters, Lina and Kalila. They think they own the whole world. The second wife had five kids. Three girls and two boys. One of the boys went to college. Anyway. I seriously need this job because, I promised myself I will get one once I turn eighteen, to support my brother.

I entered the enormous building. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Once I got up and out the elevator, a girl with long curly chocolate colored hair and light brown eyes. She was gorgeous .The girl smiled widely, showing her straight pearly whites. I returned the warm smile.

"Hello."

"Hey," I saw excitement shine in her eyes. "I'm Jessica."

"Name's Jasmine." I notice that both of our names start with J. I wonder if we might have more in common.

"Are you planning on working here?" Her eyebrows rose slightly.

"Actually today is my first day at work."

"Oh, I see," She gave me another big smile. "Come, follow."

"Alright."

She led me to the kitchen where there were women baking, cooking..

"Jasmine?"

"Yes?" I look up at her politely.

"You know.... I don't want to frighten you but the boss is pretty mean..." Her voice trailed off.

"...and once you're fired, he makes sure you don't find another job."

"..Oh.." I was a little shaken, hoping to Allah, that I would be able to fit in being a maid.

"He also doesn't apologize for mistakes, even though he knows damn well he's the one who's done something wrong."

I thought about this. "Hmm.. okay thanks for telling me." I grinned, showing a dimple.

"His girlfriend is really rude too. She's top model."

Uninterested about his so called "girlfriend," I changed the subject. "So where is he now?" I asked.

"He'll come soon. Just remember to listen to him."

I had no choice but to nod.

"You can begin by tidying up the living room."

As I walked into the gigantic livingroom, everyone turned to look at me for a minute, then shrugged and went back to minding their own business. I dusted the tables and picture frames, cleaned the windows and anything with glass. I polished the tables and sports trophies. I glanced at the trophies, curious. I picked up the one shaped as a football, wondering if it was real gold. Suddenly, I felt something, someone was behind me. I turned right around quickly and——

Uh oh.

It was the boss. There was fire burning in his eyes, his jaw was clenched tight, and he had his hands in fists. I gasped, reaching over to put the trophy back in its place when he grabbed me by my wrist.

Ow.. ow! What is this guy's problem! I could feel the heat creep up to my face and I was mad. Not mad, angry, I told myself.

'Audhu Billah.' I didn't say it out loud though, I was too afraid that this man would fire me. But I wish I had said it.

I glanced over his shoulder nervously, trying to avoid his heated but yet cold gaze. The room was an absolute disaster. It looked like one of those rooms on TV, where they have to clean up the huge mess. Clothes and papers were scattered everywhere. The curtains and bed sheets looked horrid.

Is that--a woman's bra?

Astaghfirullah!

"Astaghfirullah." I heard myself say out loud. I realized at that moment that I didn't care what this man thought of me. I could care less about him.

His grip got harder and I squirmed.

"Let me go!"

He came closer to my face. "Don't you dare touch me like that!" I yelled angrily and I fought out of his grip.

"Ahh, you're a feisty one."

Wallah, I was so mad I could have slapped him, but I didn't.

"Astaghfirullah." I repeated and this time he pushed me backwards and clumsy as I am, fell backwards, knocking over his "bigg boss" chair. I gasped. I stared at him hard and cold as stone, and gave him the death look. I raised my brow and swept at my skirt, standing up.

"Don't touch my trophies. Or I will fire you next time."

"Okay, sorry. I was just——"

"I know how desperate you are for money, you're a raghead and and you'd do anything for it."

"It's hijab. And I'd rather quit than take those insults, but I am doing this for the sake of my brother."

"Oh, so you have a whole family of terrorists, hmm?"

"Terrorism has no religion." I gave him a dry glance. "There are crazy people in every race, religion."

"You better shut your pretty mouth before I cut out your tongue."

I calmed myself, relying on Allah to get me out of this situation.

Please guide him, ya Allah.

He turned away and walked out.

"Nina Ann, where's my coffee!"

What a man. I shook my head, shocked.

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T h a n k s   f o r    R e a d  i  n g✌

VoTe | COmmenT |  FoLlOw☝