Chapter 13
Ciara watched as Myala, the woman who had approached Falk in Switzerland, stepped back into the ballroom using a different door than the one through which she’d gone through ten minutes before. Moments ago, Falk had come through the same door.
They’d been together in that room for…almost ten minutes.
Ciara thought back to their weekend together. She knew that Falk preferred taking things slowly. Sexually, he would drive her wild, pleasuring her until she was nearly delirious. Only then would he enter her and give her the climax that her body craved.
But did he prefer quickies with other women? Had Mayla or Myala, or whatever her name was, just enjoyed the sweet bliss of Falk’s attentions in that other room?
Surely not! There were over three hundred guests in the ballroom! There was only one door separating the guests from whatever had happened in that darkened room.
Dark.Private.
Ciara looked away from Falk only to have her gaze collide with the smug, satisfied expression of the other woman.
The green monster of jealousy clawed at her insides, an unwelcome companion as she plastered on a smile for yet another person greeting her, their words a distant hum as her attention remained fixated on Falk and the other woman weaving through the ballroom. Were they intentionally trying to appear inconspicuous? Falk exuded an air of simmering rage, which Ciara didn’t quite understand.
A harsh reminder echoed through her head: she didn't really know the man. He owed her nothing, she had no claim to his time. Yet, the rational thought did little to quell the surge of fury when a stunning blonde approached him, flashing a smile and coyly asking him to dance. To her dismay, the bastard took the blonde into his arms and twirled her around the dance floor.
This wasn't the first time she had witnessed him dance, but it was the first occasion she found herself analyzing his moves. A disconcerting thought slithered into her mind—his steps mirrored the way he made love. Precise and passionate, ensuring the woman savored every moment to the fullest. The tension in her chest tightened as she grappled with a mixture of envy, longing, and the bitter acknowledgment that she had no right to stake a claim on him.
“Your Highness?” a soft, cajoling voice inquired.
Ciara blinked, her eyes finally focusing on the British diplomat standing in front of her. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped. “I don’t know where my mind is.”
“I know exactly where your mind is,” a deep voice replied, causing the whole group to chuckle as Zayed looped his arm around her waist.
Ciara was so grateful for his rescue that she leaned against him as inconspicuously as possible. Zayed’s arm tightened around her, giving her the reassurance that she desperately needed just then.
“Would you ladies and gentlemen mind if I stole my betrothed away for a dance? I haven’t gotten a moment with her all evening.”
The group laughed and Ciara wanted to kiss the man. She was so grateful, she smiled more brightly up at him than she normally would.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered into her ear. “A certain man is watching and he won’t understand.”
Ciara looked around, confused. “Who is watching me?”
Zayed swung her into his arms, then guided her in the waltz. “Just smile politely so I won’t get stabbed in my sleep.”
She laughed as she looked around. “Who are you talking about?”
“As if you don’t know?”
She bit her lip, trying to suppress another undignified chuckle. Zayed looked oddly wary, but that was impossible. Zayed was too big, too powerful and, according to the news articles she’d read, too mean for anyone to actually threaten him. Plus, his people loved him. He was a ruler that was truly going to change the world for the better.
“You’re crazy,” she admonished. “Tell me about the new hospital you’re proposing.”
He rolled his eyes, but allowed the conversation to flow towards the hospital. She offered suggestions and he teased her for never relaxing. It was a lovely dance and, when the music faded out, Zayed took her hand and led her back to the corner where he stood sentry for the next hour.
“Watch out,” he whispered into her ear.
Ciara blinked up at him, not sure what he meant. “Watch out?”
“He’s warning you that I’m coming in for a dance,” Falk explained, taking her hand and tugging her towards the dance floor.
Ciara resisted for only a moment. But when it was clear that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he was perfectly willing to make a scene, Ciara followed.
Once again, flashes of her miserable nanny prodded her. She tried to tamp them down, but they were too deeply ingrained in her memory. So she stood stiffly in the dance floor, glaring up at him for a long moment.
When he finally pulled her into his arms as the music began again, Ciara couldn’t muffle the gasp of surprise as her breasts pressed against his chest. “You’re holding me too close!” she hissed, pasting on a fake smile.
He pulled her even closer. “If I had my way, you’d be naked and there wouldn’t be any space between us at all,” he growled into her ear.
She tried, and failed, to avoid melting at his comment. However, it was too close to the ideas that had popped into her head as soon as she’d laid eyes on him earlier tonight. Still, she had to resist. The man was too demanding for her. She hadn’t known that before, but he’d shown his true colors after their weekend together. Of course, that was probably something she should have discovered before she’d fallen into bed with him!
“Falk! You’re…hurting me!” she lied.
Immediately, he relaxed his hold, but he didn’t let go. Instead, she followed his lead, amazed at how beautifully he moved about the dance floor. “I had no idea you danced so well.”
“Because you have never given me a chance to show you.”
Ciara’s stubborn chin went up a notch. “You never asked before,” she countered.
There was a long silence and she looked to her right, but she didn’t notice the other dancers. She was starting to realize that she didn’t notice much of anything when Falk was close by.
“I didn’t ask because I knew you’d say no.”
If Ciara had a little space so that she could think, she might have rolled her eyes. As it was, she could barely concentrate on the dance steps. If it weren’t for his strong arms guiding her, she would make a fool of herself.
“I doubt that you even know how to ask, Falk,” she finally retorted.
He muttered something under his breath but, thankfully, in that same moment, the music faded away. She stepped away from him and did a small tilt of her head in acknowledgement of his expertise, then turned and walked away. She wasn’t sure if he followed, as was the custom. All she knew was that she needed space. She needed to get her head back on straight so that she could finish the night without embarrassing herself or her brother. Or Maggie, for that matter. Maggie deserved better than to have her first public event usurped by a moment that would end up in the gossip magazines in the morning.
“We need to talk,” Falk hissed into her ear.
She started, not realizing that he was still so close.
Ciara stopped, nodding to another group of guests before she turned, tilting her head back to look directly into Falk’s eyes. “I would very much appreciate it if you could not make a scene tonight. This is Maggie’s first public appearance.”
Falk looked around and obviously caught sight of Maggie and Ciara’s brother. Ramit hadn’t left Maggie’s side all evening, protecting her from the catty comments of some of the guests, or the snide, judgy glances coming from some of the more jealous women who had hoped to claim Ramit for their own.
“You’re right,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Will you come with me so that we can talk?”
She shuffled her feet, wishing that she had chosen more comfortable shoes. She’d anticipated sneaking out early, so her choice of footwear hadn’t been high on her priority list.
“I can’t leave the gala tonight,” she told him firmly.
“Fine. Tell me where your room is and I’ll speak with you after the guests have left. Zayed and I are staying for a few more days.”
She laughed, already shaking her head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Falk stepped closer, towering over her now. She could smell the spicy scent of his cologne as well as the scent that was uniquely his own. He smelled…delicious! Was there even a hint of peppermint? How was that possible? She loved peppermint. She’d first discovered the scent when she’d been a child and had always associated the smell of peppermint with excitement and good feelings.
Too bad that memory was tarnished now, she thought with resentment.
“I think it would be a great idea,” he replied, his voice husky.
She knew exactly where his mind had gone and stepped back. “Falk, this can’t happen.”
Falk moved closer and she gasped, leaning back as far as possible. “It’s going to happen, Ciara. We need to talk. If you don’t choose the place, then I will.”
And then he pulled away from her, giving her some breathing space.
“Everything okay?” Zayed asked, moving closer to stand next to Ciara.
“Fine,” she replied, trying to calm her racing heart. “Everything is fine, isn’t it, Falk?”
He glared at her. “Find a place,” he reiterated, then turned and walked away.
Ciara watched, trying to figure out how to escape from the upcoming confrontation. But why should she? Why not just tell the jerk that it had been fun, but she wasn’t the kind to endure a man who issued orders instead of polite requests?
With determination, she walked in the opposite direction, her mind spinning as she tried to think of a discreet way of getting the man alone. She’d completely ignored Zayed who had been standing next to her.
Smiling politely to several dignitaries, Ciara didn’t hesitate as she continued walking. She didn’t hesitate, not even when someone waved, trying to gain her attention. No, she wanted to just step out of the ballroom for a moment, to gather her wits and…and what?
She just needed a moment of privacy. That’s all.
“Princess!” a snide voice called out.
Ciara didn't bother to slow her brisk stride. The person calling out had laced her title with unmistakable venom, and rather than stopping to confront the insulting person, she hurried onward. The door leading to the back hallway was her only goal.
All she craved, all she needed, was a brief respite—a mere five minutes to recover from the tense confrontation with Falk. Perhaps she should enlist Zayed's aid. If she confided in her friend, informed him that Falk was causing her distress, Zayed would undoubtedly track the man down and issue a stern warning.
Yes, that seemed like a solid plan.
However, her steps faltered as she contemplated the strategy further. Zayed would undoubtedly inquire about why Falk was troubling her. And she couldn't bring herself to lie to Zayed. Firstly, he was one of her closest friends, and secondly, he possessed an uncanny knack for deciphering people's true intentions. He would immediately detect any falsehood or omission. She couldn't deceive him, even if it meant admitting that Falk merely sought to discuss the weekend they had spent together. The tension in her chest tightened at the thought of navigating this complex web of emotions and loyalties.
Nope, Zayed’s assistance wasn’t an option.
Maybe if she just confronted Falk, explained to him why she became so riled whenever she heard a command, explained about the abuse she’d endured from her nanny, the brutal hands, pinching, and humiliating punishments, maybe he would understand.
But Ciara quickly dismissed that option. She could barely acknowledge the reasons born from her past when she was alone. Telling Falk those humiliating, horrible experiences…no. She couldn’t do it.
“Princess!” that female voice called out again.
Ciara quickened her pace, escaping through the door into the back hallway. Once in the dimly lit corridor, she leaned against the door, closed her eyes, and took a slow, steadying breath. "The past is over," she whispered to herself. "And I will never allow myself to be in that kind of situation again."
Surveying her surroundings, she realized she was truly alone. Not even her bodyguards had followed her. She was completely alone!
A relieved smile crossed her face as she pushed away from the door, meandering further down the hallway. Her guards were probably grumbling about her swift retreat. She'd need to apologize; leaving them behind violated multiple protocols.
Yet, the solitude felt refreshing. She had just rounded a corner when she heard quickly approaching footsteps. Before she could turn around and apologize to one of her guards, a forceful push propelled her forward into darkness, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking.
What the hell had just happened? Had someone just…had she been shoved into a closet?
Panic wrapped its fingers around her throat, but Ciara willed herself to take a breath and assess the situation calmly. Unfortunately, inky blackness started to close in on her.
And old memory, one that had been buried for so long that she’d forgotten about it, catapulted itself into her mind along with all of the painful trauma from that horrible time. Another closet. Another hard hand shoving her into the closet, hard pinches that had left bruises…long periods of time stuck in a closet with no idea of when she would be released. The punishment had been so bad, Ciara had blocked it from her mind in order to “hide” from those moments.
“You’re okay!” Ciara told herself. “You’re okay!”
But she wasn’t okay. She was terrified!
A thin sliver of light from under the doorway offered a feeble attempt to penetrate the thick dark void. Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a hesitant step backward, only to clumsily collide with an unseen obstacle. Spinning around, she strained to see what lurked behind her—front and back, it was nothing but darkness and eerie, unidentifiable sensations of…things…unseen things…grazing her bare arms.
“Help!” she called out, but her rising panic caused her throat to constrict and the word came out as a mere whisper. “Help!” she tried again, but the painful memories continued to flash through her mind, overwhelming her.
She was trapped!
“Not again!” she sobbed, trying to slow the panic attack. But it was no use. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs and she felt a band tightening around her chest. She broke into a cold sweat. Ciara wasn’t sure if she was shivering or about to pass out. And then the dizziness hit her. Reaching out, she grabbed onto something, she wasn’t sure what it was and was too panicked to identify the cold metal texture.
Rationally, Ciara knew that this was merely a panic attack. Irrationally, logic didn’t matter. Memories flashed through her mind. Darkness. Hunger. Desperation for a bathroom. Silence and…and nothing.