by Eliza Ellis
Zuri felt slightly embarrassed that she had implied his snobbery—slightly. “Rich people usually flaunt their money, in my experience.”
“Would you consider that experience limited?” Daemon asked in a lighthearted tone.
Zuri didn’t feel threatened by the question. In fact, she felt quite comfortable conversing with Daemon on a soft leather couch in his command and control center living room eating the most divine pasta she’d ever tasted. The cheese sauce was everything, and it was a shame she couldn’t hire the chef. Zuri was determined that living the high life for a few days wasn’t going to change her. It was only going to be a few days, right?
“I can concede that I don’t have a lot of experience,” she said smoothly in between bites. “It is limited to what I’ve seen in Bendola. Only a few people have money to throw away. The ‘Select’ is what they are called.”
“Members of his inner circle?”
“Yes, exactly. He rewards his own and leaves the rest of his people to fight for the scraps that are left over.” Daemon studied her with a thoughtful expression on his face, and she felt her own warming. Why was she suddenly both nervous and anxious to hear his thoughts?
It had to be the kiss. It had surprised her how much she had wanted it after his lips touched hers. This whole time she had been building what she thought was disdain against the handsome ex-soldier.
She’d been lying to herself this entire time.
How she had moaned, how he’d said her name, how she had clung to him for dear life. If that stupid phone hadn’t rung, who knows if she would’ve showered alone? She definitely didn’t have the strength to fight against her desire after speaking with David and learning about how Joqi’s wife hated her for her husband’s death.
That’s what it was: a pity kiss. He had wanted to make her feel better, and she had wanted the same for herself. She wouldn’t thank him for distracting her from her grief. He had crossed the line. She was his client! She never would’ve pounced on him; she had more self-control than that. However, as soon as their lips touched, how much she had wanted to lose all control had terrified her. Here was a man who had gotten her out of danger and was committed to protecting her; he could provide everything she needed—except a free Bendola.
That was still her cause, and she couldn’t lose sight of her goal.
“Well, after Bendola becomes democratic, it’ll change everyone’s lives,” Daemon said. “They’ll finally be able to vote for what they want and how they want to live—and that vote will actually count. It’ll be a difficult transition, but with you and David and other people willing to sacrifice your lives for change, I think you’ll weather the unavoidable storm that accompanies a change in governance.”
“What do you mean?” Zuri asked with a slight bite.
“You’ve studied democracy, right? Look at the history of plenty of African countries. They are at their most vulnerable when power shifts and a new government takes over. If you guys aren’t ready to combat any resistance, you could end up with another dictator.”
“We have been working on a plan for a long time. We understand that there will be some…difficulties—”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“—but we’re prepared to do whatever it takes.”
Daemon nodded, his expression stoic. “Good. I’m sure you have everything under control.”
Zuri tapped her lips with her cloth napkin and put it on the table holding her plate. “First, I have to return to Bendola.”
Daemon shook his head. “We talked about this, Princess. Not a chance,” he said around the food. “Mmm, this is so good.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
He arched a brow at her. “As you wish, Princess.”
She ignored his pet name for her that sounded like shrill noise. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”
He chuckled. “You’re not a prisoner.”
“Then I can leave any time I want?”
He smirked. “I wouldn’t go that far. I still have a job to do.”
“Do you need me to fire you again?”
He grinned fully. “Had you rehired me? I’ve lost track.”
“Then let’s return to Bendola tomorrow,” she urged. “You have the money. I know you can protect me.”
He winked, as though he detected her sucking up. “You’re not experiencing any jet lag?”
She hadn’t. His plane was so luxurious, she had forgotten she was flying most of the time. With a bed and a shower and entertainment… She had rested well on the plane.
“Give me a SITREP on the street,” Daemon called out.
One of his employees reconfirmed that the situation hadn’t changed for the better. Fighting had intensified with people calling for the dictator to step down after assassinating Bayo. Zuri kept her jaw firm, fighting emotion that swelled in her chest for her dead father. She appreciated the support from her people, who didn’t believe she had abandoned them.
Yet.
The longer she stayed in America, the more distant she would be in their memories. She couldn’t come back after the fighting ended and then help lead the country. They wouldn’t trust her. They’d look at her like a false savior, who ran when the battle was at its toughest. She wasn’t a quitter. She was a fighter.
“Like I said, Princess, not a chance you’re going back anytime soon.”
“You can’t keep me here,” she hissed.
He leaned in close, his light eyes blazing with blue fire. “I made a promise to your father, and it’s one I’m going to keep.”
His insistent declaration both chilled and warmed her. She feared for anyone who would try to harm her. Every part of her believed in Daemon. She still lifted her chin and said, “If you expect my cooperation, then you’d better treat me as a client. Keep things professional.” For his sake, she whispered her demand so as not to draw the attention of his workers.
Daemon smirked. “Fine by me, Princess.” He popped a piece of bread in his mouth and looked away.
Zuri continually glanced in his direction as she played with the sauce on her plate. Daemon didn’t regard her. Her irritation rose, and a sense of rejection filled her. It was a silly thought; there was no reason why the two of them should entertain anything beyond a professional-client relationship. He lived here in the United States and had a very busy job running around the world protecting clients like her. She would ultimately return to Bendola, and the two of them would never meet again.
Rejection fizzled, and a sense of loss replaced it. Emotionally spent, Zuri excused herself and returned to her room. Within seconds of slipping under the covers and into fresh, soft sheets, she closed her eyes and fell into a dream of her father leading a free Bendola—one that would never come true.
Chapter 9
He had seen her repeated glances and ignored every last one. Her chastisement had pierced him to the core, striking a ton of nerves along the way. After Zuri had left the room, Daemon silently congratulated himself on his willpower. He had wanted nothing more than to stare at the beautiful refugee and maybe get a kiss from her for hurting his feelings.
He’d settle for distance. After all, she was his client. He wouldn’t give her any more ammunition to undermine his authority.
Daemon lay on the weight bench and adjusted his hands around the bar. He typically worked out with one of the guys, but he didn’t want a spotter today. He’d been going hard for the last thirty minutes, and it was working, filling him with endorphins. When sleep couldn’t banish thoughts of her, he figured hitting the gym would. He believed he could conquer anything, including his attraction to Zuri.
He lifted the bar and blasted out a breath. He lowered the bar and grunted with each raised rep. Sweat ran down his face, and he blinked to keep the sting of salt from his eyes. He was going to finish this set strong, no matter what.
One last groan and he dropped the bar on the rest. He let his arms flop down by his sides, and he smiled. One more and he wo
uld’ve needed a spotter to keep from dropping it on his chest. Just another example of how Zuri was causing him to make bad decisions. First he kissed her, then he was lifting heavy without a partner. Who knew what would come next?
If he was his father, the answer would be obvious. He’d shower and make his way to her room. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and most of the house was quiet. Only the night shift was up in the control area, monitoring activities. Despite her demand that he control himself and be professional, it took two to kiss—and she had done her part very well.
Daemon groaned and sat up. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her. He was supposed to be working out and devising a plan to keep his father from badgering him about taking over the company. Zuri would be easy to handle; his father would take all of his skill.
He was grateful his father wanted to pass the torch to him. Daemon had worked hard in the military and in building his business to be worthy of the chance to succeed his father. It was just sooner than he had anticipated. Maybe when he turned forty, or fifty; when his bones started screaming for him to take it easy and not propel down the side of a mountain to infiltrate enemy territory. Then he could sit at a desk.
When he had more confidence that his work wouldn’t consume him. Wouldn’t change him into the man his father had become. He’d met some workaholic billionaires who made it their job to play the field. Both men and women. The more money, the more promiscuous. Sometimes he wished he had less money; temptations would be fleeting.
Until he looked at all the toys and gadgets he’d been able to acquire over the years. Couldn’t get tech without cash.
There was only one solution: become a hermit. Be the type of billionaire few people ever saw, but still felt his influence through his businesses. If he stayed away from the parties and the women, he’d remain objective.
Daemon stood at the exact moment he heard the door close. He spotted a wide-eyed Zuri in a loose top and leggings. So she’d found the closet. Daemon had made sure to stock it with clothing he thought would fit her. His eyes drifted down her form, and he told himself he was confirming his ability to guess a woman’s size, but he was actually just admiring her slender legs in the form-fitting wear.
“I…I didn’t know anyone would be in here,” she said quietly.
Her eyes left his face and landed on his bare chest. Today had to be the day he didn’t wear a shirt. That was one decision Daemon didn’t guilt himself over. “Don’t let me stop you. Use whatever you want.”
She took a step back. “I just wanted to…”
Work out some frustration? That’s what Daemon believed she’d left unsaid. He was doing the same. She moved over to the treadmills and began walking. Daemon tried not to concentrate on the tall beauty bewitching him and sucking his attention, but with so many mirrors on the walls, he could see her from every corner of the expansive room. She kept her gaze forward on the television monitor mounted on the equipment while Daemon kept his eyes on the back of her form.
This wasn’t going to work.
Daemon dropped the dumbbell he had picked up to do bicep curls back on the rack. He couldn’t work out with her in here. Too much distraction. Why did she have to look so fresh in the morning? If her cute hair puff sitting on the top of her head was all out of shape, or if she came in with ten-pound bags under her eyes, then he could work out. But she came in looking like she could walk a runway. Did her father realize what he had asked Daemon to do? Did Daemon think he could possibly protect her and not let his emotions get involved?
Daemon furiously wiped the sweat from his face as he walked toward the door. He bumped right into Zuri. She jumped back like she’d just touched a hot stove. “You finished already, Princess?” He smirked.
She put her hands on her hips, her brown eyes narrowing. “Are you saying I need to work out?”
Oh, such a dangerous question. Daemon lifted his brows and dragged his gaze down her form again. He couldn’t help it. She’d asked. When he finally forced his eyes back to her face, her jaw had stiffened, and he didn’t know how she could see out of those slits. “I don’t think you really want the answer to that, Princess.” Wow, his voice was husky. “I think you just wanted me to look at you.”
She lifted her nose. “I don’t need your validation.”
He chuckled. “No, you definitely don’t. You already know you look amazing.”
“Then if you’ll excuse me, please.”
He put a hand to his chest and continued laughing. “Ouch. I know that hurt.”
“My parents taught me manners.”
“Which you’ve rarely used when talking to me.”
“You bring out the worst in me.”
He cocked a brow. “I do? Really? Hmm…”
“I don’t like feeling this way.”
He took a step forward, wishing he didn’t stink, but she would just have to get over it. “What way, Princess?” A loaded question he had no right to ask. Maybe there was more of his father in him than he was willing to admit.
Instead of retreating, she closed the distance further, jutting her face out. “Like I’m dealing with—”
“Careful, Princess,” he said in a dangerous tone. “You don’t want to sound like the elitist you’re trying to strip from power.” She snapped her mouth shut. Daemon grinned. “You’re not above anyone else. You’re a flesh-and-blood woman, and there’s nothing wrong with—”
“Careful, Mr. Knight. You don’t want to be accused of unprofessionalism.” She offered a smirk of her own.
That did it.
Daemon wrapped his arms around her waist and backed her into the wall. His mouth came within a breath of hers. “You bring out the worst in me too, Princess,” he whispered.
Heavy breaths intermingled. They stood locked together, her hands pressed against pecs he just worked out, his arms firmly around her small waist. Neither of them moved, but one sound of approval from Zuri and Daemon would carry her back into the steam room and out of view of the cameras.
The cameras.
Daemon groaned and released her. Zuri’s palms went flat against the wall behind her, and her eyes saucered. Daemon pointed up to the video camera in the nearest corner to them. “Forgot all about them.”
She looked up and closed her eyes.
“Look, Zuri, I think…” He rubbed his short hair, sending sweat droplets into his eyes. “I had an idea to take you into DC today and talk to a few advocacy groups and political officials.” He blinked away the sting. “They’ll be able to help your cause and possibly put pressure on President Gohi.”
Her brows arched upward, and she looked confused. Eventually, she nodded. “That sounds good,” she said in a shaky whisper, her chest still rising and falling at a rapid rate. “Thank you for suggesting it.”
“You’re welcome.” His own heart continued to thunder, and it wasn’t because he’d just lifted like a beast. “Great. Well, breakfast will be in about an hour if you want to meet downstairs. We’ll go over the details and then head out.”
“Okay. I will meet you downstairs.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
His lips twitched upward the longer she remained planted against the wall. He took a step back and swept his right arm out toward the gym entrance. “After you, Princess.”
She rolled her eyes and stalked out. Daemon followed, enjoying the view a little too much.
Chapter 10
Zuri decided that she would eat American-style pancakes every day for the rest of her life, if she could. That and hash browns and bacon. She loved the sausage as well. But she couldn’t do that if she was only going to spend five minutes on the treadmill and call it a workout.
Back in the gym, Zuri couldn’t have handled being in the same room with Daemon a second longer. She had felt his eyes—or maybe she was imagining it—on her, and it had made her skin tingle, her stomach flutter, and her heart rate rise to an uncomfortable level. All while walking slower than two miles an hour. She would’v
e had a heart attack if she’d decided to jog.
That’s when she had decided to dismiss whatever he would’ve thought about her leaving the gym before breaking a sweat, go back to her room, and try to sleep it off. She’d awoken too early, her mind active with fear when she couldn’t determine where she was for the first few seconds. Then it had all returned: her father was dead, she had escaped Bendola, and she was staying in her infuriating billionaire bodyguard’s home—in his mother’s favorite room. The style of the room was so soothing and comforting, but Zuri didn’t want to think well of a woman she had never met and then believe she could give birth to her arrogant protector.
Her bold protector.
He was bold to wrap his arms around her, teasing her to cross the line she had set up for him. To make him kiss her. His hard, sweaty body should’ve grossed her out, but it hadn’t. She had wanted him closer. Had almost pulled him in. His pouty bottom lip, mere millimeters from her mouth, had pleaded with her to taste.
Zuri prided herself on her disciplined willpower. The guy might believe he could have any woman, but he’d never met her. Couldn’t have her.
She smiled as she stared out of the window of Daemon’s high-end, bulletproof SUV, not because of the beautiful view of the approaching downtown DC, but because she felt herself slowly becoming immune to the man sitting beside her talking on the satellite phone. Beast, rather, with his shirt off and looking hot and sweaty after a hard workout. While he talked on the phone, she focused on the spectacular view that partially inspired the revolution in Bendola.
An expansive green lawn stretched to the tall pillar that looked like an obelisk. The Washington Monument, a symbol commemorating one of the greatest generals in all of global history: George Washington. He had led his small country to freedom. Zuri felt akin to Washington’s purpose in desiring freedom for her country, even though King George could hardly compare to the evils of President Gohi. People who disagreed with his policies disappeared off the streets. He enacted laws restricting speech and the press. The only religion that was tolerated was the worship of himself.
