by Eva Charles
Kitten? I glance briefly in the direction of the soldiers, and it reminds me to play nice. “He’s been looking forward to spending time with you, and I support that. You’ve kept him busy.”
“You didn’t sound supportive or pleased last night.”
“I don’t share well, sir.”
His smile turns into a chuckle. “Neither do I.” Ahmad leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Whatever Gray has offered you, I can offer you more. You have only to look around to see that it’s true.”
I need a shower.
His pick-up game is weak, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. “Gray has only offered me his company, and that’s all I’m interested in.”
“His company?” He laughs out loud. “What do you offer him in return, kitten?”
This is over. “Your Highness, I mean no disrespect, but this conversation is going in a direction that’s making me exceedingly uncomfortable. I’m sure you don’t want that.”
“You’re charming, Delilah. If we had met at another time, perhaps things might have been different.”
I don’t say a word, because there is no way I could ever convince him that I would be willing to allow his filthy, murderous hands on me.
“You’ve won my father’s affection, and Saher’s. Even Gray’s, which is impressive,” he adds. “But I’m not entirely sold. Beautiful women have been the downfall of many great men—especially women named Delilah.”
Really? I’ve never heard that before. “I’m a visitor in your country, your home. I have no interest in making trouble for anyone—men or women.”
He glares at me for some time, his face darkening as the seconds tick by. “Saher married a traitor. She carried the traitor’s baby in her womb. Like his father, he will grow up to believe that Amidane is rightfully his, and he will die a traitor, like his father.”
Jesus Christ.
“Saher is a prisoner of her own making. Don’t fill her head with fantasies that will never be hers. It will make her captivity more painful than it is already.”
“It’s not my place to tell others how to live their lives.”
“Of course it is. You’re an American—and a woman at that. You can’t help yourself. It’s in your genes.”
I fold my hands in my lap. This conversation isn’t going well. It’s not that it’s veered off track. It was never on a good path. “I’m not sure what it is you expect of me.”
He studies me for a long time, before placing a call from a phone on the end table beside him. It’s on speaker.
“Tell Gray where you are,” he instructs as the phone rings.
“Hello.”
My heart skips a beat when I hear his voice.
“Gray, it’s me.”
“Delilah? Where are you?”
“I’m with the crown prince. In his office.”
“Is anyone else with you?” His voice is controlled and brittle, with rage buttressing every word.
I glance at Ahmad, who is sitting there like he owns the world. “Just the two of us. We’re on speakerphone.”
Gray is deathly quiet. The prince is grinning. The combination raises gooseflesh on my arms. “Are you okay?” he asks cautiously.
“I am.”
“Is she okay, Ahmad?” Gray demands, with a fury I’ve never heard from him.
“She seems very well.”
“Delilah, go back to the room,” Gray says. “Right now.”
I get up, but the prince remains seated. “Miss Porter, ask my secretary to call Fatima. She’ll escort you back to your suite. Or perhaps you prefer Raksha.”
He wants me to know that nothing happens here without him knowing. Even something as simple as a maid being reassigned. Ahmad gauges my reaction, but I don’t flinch.
“Either would be fine,” I reply with a small, polite smile. “Thank you.”
“I expect an explanation, Ahmad. And it fucking better be a good one.” That’s the last thing I hear as the office door closes behind me.
I pause for a moment to collect myself, as the stress melts off me. I dodged a major one, but I might not be so lucky next time.
The prince’s secretary doesn’t bother with either Fatima or Raksha. He sends a young woman in the office to escort me back to the room. I’m so preoccupied with the thoughts racing in my head, I don’t really remember anything about the walk.
Raksha is dusting when I arrive. The compact that was in the abaya that I handed to Saher this morning is on the nightstand, with a note canceling the shopping we had planned for the afternoon. It’s on Saher’s stationary, but not signed.
I don’t know if Saher canceled the outing, or if it was canceled by the prince, or someone else. Raksha doesn’t know, either—although that seems unlikely.
The prince’s threats, and now this. My gut’s sending warning flares, but without any clear direction. I’m in limbo, and I hate the feeling.
What seemed like a great coup two hours ago is suddenly blowing up in my face.
41
Gray
I’ve had enough.
Enough bullshit. Enough tits shaking in my face every night. Enough of Ahmad. And certainly enough of fucking with Delilah’s head—sitting on the scales just right, so they don’t tip too far in one direction or the other—the relationship and the mission, teetering precariously while I hold my goddamn breath. Maybe it’s my head that’s been fucked with enough.
It’s time to go home. Let these stupid bastards with their fucked-up family dynamics clean up their own damn messes.
If only it was that simple.
I nod to Raksha, who’s become a fixture in the sitting room with her embroidery, and knock on the door to Delilah’s room, before entering.
“Hey.” Her face is washed out, and her shoulders slumped. I’ve never been more pissed at Ahmad. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
If she thinks she’s going to brush me off, she’s nuts. I put her in this position, and I’m going to take care of her. Her pain, her fears, and her anxiety are mine.
I place my hand on her upper arm, gripping gently. “What happened? I want the details. All of them.”
She shrugs, but’s not enough to free herself from my tightening grip. “I think the prince was testing me. Sending me a message not to fill Saher with Western ideas. He wasn’t hiding anything. It was his idea to call you.”
Only because he knew you would tell me about meeting with him. “How did you end up there?”
“It’s a long story. Fatima told me the king wanted to see me.” She glances up at me warily. She was tricked, and I’m sure she’s plenty pissed. “I asked Trippi to get a message to you.”
“By the time he reached me, I was already on the phone with you.” The bile rises in my throat every time I replay that call in my head. Her voice was controlled in the way it gets when she’s anxious. Ahmad was fucking with both of us.
“What are you doing here?” She pulls out of my grasp. “I thought you were busy on a project today.”
“Fuck that. I was doing Ahmad a favor. He can shove it up his ass.” I wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her flush against me. After a few minutes, her body still hasn’t relaxed one iota.
My eyes fall on the dresser, where a topaz, a ruby, and a sapphire sit side by side, as though she couldn’t make up her mind, or she didn’t have enough holes in her ears to wear all three.
I’ve run into a snag but I can handle it, I’m in trouble and need to talk, and it’s done. That’s what they signify, but what it means—at least how I read it—is that she’s in trouble…emotional trouble.
Fuck.
Jet lag, not enough time to fully prepare for something this big, that bastard Ahmad toying with her… I don’t give a shit what he said to me on the phone. He would have fucked her in a heartbeat if he thought he could get away with it.
I swivel her around, so I can reach her mouth, and ravage it with a long, rough kiss. Someone els
e might caress her gently as a way of saying I’m sorry. But that’s not us. And it’s not what she needs right now.
My blood runs cold, when I force my mouth away. “I know what you need.” My heart aches, as she gazes at me with more trust than I’ve earned. “Will you allow me to give it to you?”
“Here?”
“I’m afraid so, Blue Eyes. I don’t think it can wait.”
“I’ll follow you, wherever it takes me.” These words, from her, never fail to humble me.
I don’t deserve Delilah’s submission right now, but I’m going to accept it. I kiss the bridge of her nose, before sticking my head into the sitting room. “Please allow us some privacy. Perhaps you can take a walk.” Raksha nods, and I open the door to the hall where Trippi is stationed. “Take Baz and hang out at the end of the hall. I’ll let you know when I need you back.”
“She okay?” he asks.
“Okay? She’d have your balls in half a second if she knew you asked.”
He shakes his head and chuckles.
I shut the door and turn to her. “Take off your clothes. For me.”
She tilts her head to the side, and I see the hesitation. Something that I will not allow. “Now, Delilah, unless you want my help. I’m in the right mood to rip the clothes off your body to tatters.”
She lifts her chin, and my cock twitches. With every piece of clothing she removes, it lengthens and thickens. The curve of her breasts, how her hip meets her thigh, the dip of her navel—it all calls to me at once.
I step closer to her and place my hand on her throat, fingering the very places that would rob her of breath. She gasps, and shudders. “Drape yourself over the footboard. Face and hands on the mattress.”
Her mouth opens slightly, and I see her begin to relax. It kills me. All that we accomplished in the last few weeks, I’m about to eviscerate. The very minute my belt lands on her ass, it’ll all be gone.
I don’t warm her up. I don’t warn her. I don’t have to. She knows what’s coming, and she’s relishing the assault.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Over and over, leaving my handprint on her flesh.
When her skin is well-flushed, I slide my fingers to her pussy. She’s wet. But not wet enough.
I step back and pull off my belt, folding it in half so that the first strike will have the snap of a whip. This is for her, I remind myself. Not for me. It’s not what I want for her, but what she needs from me at this moment.
I let the belt fly, and she screams—the harrowing sound muffled by the linen. I let it fly, again, and again, until the stripes on her ass, where it meets her thigh, are raised and angry—until I can’t stand it anymore.
I toss the belt aside and reach between her legs, rubbing her clit with the fingers of one hand and sliding three fingers from the other into her swollen cunt. “Keep your face buried in the mattress.”
No one, not one fucking person gets to see her face when she comes. That privilege belongs only to me. In seconds, she’s choking my fingers, bucking off the bed, and I finish her off, yanking her into the abyss without mercy.
While she’s still whimpering, I take off my clothes and crawl into bed, pulling her on top of me and stroking her back while she cries. Delilah is not a crier, and it’s heartbreaking to hear her sobs, but she needs to release the bottled emotion. It doesn’t matter that I feel like a monster. All that matters is what she needs.
When she’s finished, when all the pent-up stress and anxiety is gone, I grab my shirt and wipe the remnants of a good cry and the smeared mascara off her gorgeous face. “You okay?”
She nods, smiling at me through hazy eyes. Content and unburdened, I want this feeling for her—always. But not like this.
“You up for a shower?” She nods, again, the languid smile lingering like a punchy drunk. “Then let’s go. I’m not done with you.”
In the shower, I turn the water on full blast, both fans, and some music. I’m careful to shield her ass away from the sting of the hot water. “Why is there a ruby, a topaz, and a sapphire out?” I murmur softly into her neck, while the spray rains on us from all sides.
She turns and twines her arms around my neck. “It’s done,” she whispers, licking my ear, and even though this is partly business, my cock hardens at her touch. “But I’m terrified for her.”
“You can’t save her.” She stiffens as I mutter the words into her skin. There is absolutely no doubt she heard me.
I slide my hand into the hair at the back of her neck, with a firm hold, and walk her deeper into the shower, until she’s in the corner, facing the stone. “This is going to be quick and rough. I suggest you hold on.” With one hand fisting her hair, I nudge her legs apart with my knee and sink into her pussy, balls deep with one thrust.
“Oh, Blue Eyes. You’re so hot and tight. My cock can’t get enough of your sweet pussy.” This is not going to last long.
She gasps and moans, egging me on. My fingers find her belly, creeping lower and lower, until she’s sandwiched between my throbbing cock and my hand, both working her until she can’t stand of her own accord.
My balls are heavy, and the telltale prickle is gathering at the base of my spine.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
“Hold on.” It’s the last thing I remember before sinking my teeth into the cord at the back of her neck, and riding out the wave.
After we’ve soaped up and rinsed off and fucked again, I hold a terrycloth robe for her to step into, and belt it around her waist. “We’re leaving in the morning, or as soon as we can get clearance to fly.”
She licks her lips, and nods. There’s reluctance in that nod. “After I eat something, I’ll pack.”
“Let Raksha help you. It’ll go quicker, and you’ll have more time to relax.”
Delilah leaves the bathroom without replying. I’m sure the idea of someone helping her pack gives her heartburn. Although not as much heartburn as I’m planning to give her on the trip home.
When I go into the bedroom, Delilah is in her robe, holding an envelope. “It’s from Saher,” she says, handing me the card. There’s a sparkle in her eyes.
Please join me for shopping in the morning. We leave promptly at eleven.
“I’m going,” she announces, with a fire in her eyes that dares me to say otherwise.
“We’re leaving as soon as we’re cleared to go.”
“I haven’t bought one souvenir to take back with me. At the very least, I need something for Gabby. Please.” She begs not only with her words but with her eyes. “I need to do this one thing.”
Souvenirs. What a crock of shit. But brilliant, at the same time. I understand why she wants to see Saher one more time—to silently plead her case. But her job is done and we need to get out of here. Delilah was to pass the message, not to ensure that the princess followed the instructions.
“Wheels up the very second we have clearance to fly. If time allows you to go shopping, fine. But there are no promises.”
42
Delilah
“After the stunt Ahmad pulled yesterday, I’m not excited about this.”
I wince, and the glossy stain I’m applying smears past my lip line. But when I glance at Gray in the mirror, I realize he didn’t misspeak. He’s still pissed, and doesn’t care if Ahmad is privy to our conversation. I sometimes forget that not only does Gray have the kind of power that all multi-billionaires have, but that he is also the son of a former president. That kind of power can stand up to kings and queens, and the shield it provides is incomparable.
“I’ll be fine. You might be slightly poorer, but otherwise, there’s nothing to worry about.” I stay in role, reminding him to, also. “Besides, because of the weather we can’t leave until late this afternoon, anyway.”
He mumbles something about me being up all night praying to the weather gods. I might have been chanting and pleading all night, but it ha
d nothing to do with weather.
“Take this,” he says, placing a credit card that he knows full well I won’t use, near my purse. “And take some more Advil, before you go.”
He flashes me that wolfish grin I’m so fond of, which sparks an idea for the long trip home.
“What will you do while we’re gone?”
“Have a word or two with Ahmad. We spoke by phone yesterday, but he deserves to hear it from me in person. Take Trippi and Baz with you. I’m sure they’ll love a shopping trip.”
I don’t like the idea of leaving Gray at the palace without an ally. This place is fraught with peril, most of it shrouded in secrecy. We’re vulnerable here—even Gray, who can take care of himself. “Trippi and Baz?”
“It’s the only way I’m allowing your little shopping trip to happen.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I’m silenced before a single word emerges.
“This isn’t a negotiation. Save your breath.”
Raksha escorts me, flanked by Trippi and Baz, to the limousine where Saher is waiting. “Good morning.” My voice is cheery and upbeat as I climb into the seat next to her.
“Hello,” she says softly. Her eyes are ringed with dark circles, and she has lines on her face that I don’t remember seeing before. “Thank you for joining me.”
I do something next that pushes the boundaries of protocol, and is completely out of character for me. It’s something Gabby would do, or Lally, or Mrs. Marshall. But not me. I reach down and place my hand over Saher’s, squeezing gently. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”
Saher nods, staring out the side window. After a few uncomfortable minutes, she turns toward me. “Saks is not too far,” she says brightly. “The store in Amidane carries brands from all over the world.”
We chat for a few minutes about high-end shopping, which I know very little about, so mostly I listen and try to ask questions that don’t sound too unsophisticated.
About twenty minutes into the trip, Saher presses a button to speak to the driver. “We’ve changed our minds. Pull right into there.” She points out the window. “To Harvey Nichols.”
