Chapter 7 #2
Though carpeted, the hard floor dug into his shoulder blades.
At least he didn’t have to worry about sleeping too deeply.
Not even sure he could fall asleep. He used the sleeplessness to figure out how to get Leighton to soften up, give him a break.
Thinking through everything he’d seen, those he’d met, he catalogued it all.
Took stock of it. Worked on a plan to get her back to Yasmina.
The safari. If somehow Omen could get in place…
Yeah… Yeah, that could work. Maybe if they happened upon an area with knolls and hills, trees, he could have the team waiting…
But he’d need to know locations first. He should ask Rayan for an itinerary, so he could be prepared.
It would take more than an itinerary to be prepared, though, especially with her unwilling to cooperate.
Leighton awoke with a start. Not because anything was wrong but because her body had trained her to be up, alert, and dressed before that door opened to deliver the breakfast tray.
Vigilance kept her from being intruded upon.
It always felt slimy for a male guard to see her in a state of undress, despite being beneath the covers.
Even as she dragged herself out of bed, she recalled a hazy dream. Laughter…his laughter, Apollo’s. They’d been at the Capitol together, beneath the cherry blossom trees along the tidal basin.
Shaking off the dream, she headed into the bathroom and readied herself for the day. She found makeup in a tray and added some concealer to the bruise that was a garish shade of blue and purple now, then got dressed.
Thud! Crack! Thud!
Startled, she hurried back into the room, looking around. Had something fallen? What had the noise—
Shouts carried outside the door, and her pulse raced. Thud! Thud! The door bucked.
She drew back, hand to her throat. That sounded like a fight…
Where was Apollo? Was he the one fighting? The thought drew her forward.
The door slammed open.
Leighton took a step back, the moment powering down to a slow, surreal event.
Nasir and another man had Apollo by the scruff of the shirt and pitched him in her direction.
She tried to brace, but his weight crashed into her.
Knocked her backwards. Off her feet. She dropped hard to the floor and careened back.
Acutely aware of Apollo atop her. She thumped her head against something. Pain exploded.
He found purchase on the bedframe, and with preternatural skill, leapt up and around. Stood ready for the next punch.
“Stay in there!” Nasir snarled, his own lip bloodied. “If we find you sleeping here again, you will be punished. And if you ever forget to lock her door again, we will—”
“It was locked!” Leighton stood behind Owen. “You broke the—”
Eyes dark with outrage and violence, Prince Nasir lunged at her.
That’s when she realized her mistake. And though she jerked her gaze down, it was too late. A storm named Apollo swept in front of her. Taller by a head, he squared his stance. Shoulders rose and hands readied as he slammed into place.
Prince Nasir pulled up sharp. “Get out of the way.”
“Not happening,” Apollo growled. “She’s under my protection. Touch her and it will be the last thing you do.”
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
“Oh, I’m not talking,” Apollo snarled. “Any man threatened by a woman speaking her mind isn’t a man.”
“What did you say to me?” Nasir moved forward.
But a large hand clamped the prince’s shoulder. The slightly taller, bulkier build of Crown Prince Maaz appeared there, self-possessed and disapproving.
Leighton saw Apollo’s raw, feral reflection in the mirror next to where the crown prince stood. The fury.
“What is this?” demanded Maaz.
Nasir flared his nostrils and dabbed his bloody lip. “This infidel was sleeping in the hall in plain view of all women. When I corrected him—”
“You mean kicked me in the ribs.”
Maaz looked between his brother and Apollo. “Why were you sleeping in the hall?”
Leighton started—Owen had been sleeping in the hall? On the floor? Guilt curled and lodged itself in her lungs, made it hard to breathe.
“Seems assigning me a room was overlooked,” Owen noted acidly.
“You were told to stay in here.”
“It’s inappropriate,” he said. “I will not dishonor Nouri or myself. I’d think more respect would be shown to one of your own.”
“She is not one of our own,” Maaz said with an icy calm, his gaze never meeting hers. He gave a slow nod to Apollo. “We have guests visiting and many staying until Daria’s wedding. You cannot sleep in the hall like a vagrant.”
“Wasn’t my idea of fun either, but it was necessary. I won’t give anyone cause to question Nouri’s purity or character.”
Shocked at his straightforward words, Leighton drew in a breath. Looked away even as she noted the words seemed to impact the princes too.
“If you both do not want to find yourselves in a cell again, stay in this room, door locked,” Maaz instructed.
The rattle of a tray—her breakfast, no doubt—sounded beyond the door.
Maaz all but shoved his brother out. The crown prince made to leave but paused at the door. Traced the broken jamb. His expression tightened, then they were gone.
Apollo sagged into the chair, holding his side and grimacing.
“What were you thinking?” A tangle of emotions assaulted Leighton at the blood on his knuckles and lip.
She diverted to the bathroom, where she wet a towel and hurried back to him.
Sitting on the small coffee table, she thought to tend his wounds, but suddenly felt awkward and thrust the towel at him.
He caught it. “Thanks.” He pressed it to his lip and dabbed. Winced.
Why it hit her then, she didn’t know, but—sweet heavens, he was gorgeous. She wasn’t a fan of the bleached hair, but his blue eyes created a vortex that drew her in and forbade escape. His aquiline nose, stubble against tanned skin, and stern brow ridge added so much character.
Focus, Leighton! “Did you really sleep on the floor outside my door?”
He stretched his jaw, expression tightening. “I was fine.”
Deflating, she cursed herself for making him leave. “This is my fault.”
“Negative,” he said firmly, using the damp towel to wipe his knuckles and the angry cut.
“I made you leave.”
“Already told you, I never intended to sleep in here.”
“But now you have to.”
His jaw muscle flexed.
“We’ll make it work,” she said softly, feeling defeated too. “It’s not worth”—she motioned to his hands and lip—“this.”
Intensity narrowed his eyes. “Protecting you is my job, and that means protecting not just your person but your honor. I’ll put my life down to do that, if I must.”
“That’s absurd.” Leighton drew back, not believing he meant that.
Surely he hadn’t. But that locked-in-place scowl did not abate, so maybe he had.
She stood and moved away, then faced him, hugging herself.
“You’re complicating everything.” She touched her forehead, kneading away the threatening headache.
“That’s what my mom said about being pregnant with me.”
“What?”
Cringing and bracing his side, he continued to the bathroom, where he inspected his lip and tossed the towel in the sink, running water over it. “Long story, but…I was conceived out of wedlock.”
Leighton stood at the door, watching him. “I’m not connecting the dots…”
He rinsed the towel and looked at her in the mirror.
“My parents were on a mission to find some drug lord who’d held her captive for nearly a year.
Since she was the only one who’d been to his compound, the US government threatened her with colluding with the enemy and jail time if she didn’t deliver this drug lord or his location.
So, she led Dad’s team to the compound to take out the guy.
Dad was plugging painkillers from a back injury.
A landslide separated them from the team and they holed up at a hotel.
One thing led to another, and here I am. ”
“Um, wow,” she said with a disbelieving laugh. Had he made that up? “But what does that have to do with—”
“She said I’d complicated things but I was the best complication.
” He wrung out the towel, then draped it over the edge.
“Guess I’ve been complicating life ever since, so don’t think it’s personal.
” Smirking, he drew up the edge of his shirt to inspect his side, where a massive bruise bloomed across his ribs.
She gasped, moving closer. “That’s huge.”
Arm up, he angled to see the blue and purple marring his very toned abs and deltoids. “It feels huge. Pretty sure the rib cracked this time.”
“This time?” she balked, then recoiled. “I am so sorry.”
“Me too.” He grunted and lowered his shirt. “Now to get some clean clothes.”
“Oh, they put some in the dressing room, along with a shave kit,” she said, pointing past him where a door sat ajar.
He headed in there, drawing his shirt up over his head, muscles rippling and taunting.
Yeah, he was really in shape. Mouth dry, she made herself go to the small dinette where breakfast waited and sat down. “I’m really sorry they attacked you…” Because you were protecting my honor. She shook her head. Was this guy real?
He emerged, threading his arms through a white kaftan, which really complemented his tanned skin and blue eyes. “I’ll live.”
Her mind replayed how he’d shoved himself into Nasir’s path. Like a lion protecting his pride. It had been incredible. Inspiring. Nobody had ever done something like that for her.
He eyed the plate and frowned. “What’s that?”
“Shakshuka. It’s delicious but spicy.”
“You afraid I can’t handle it?” he teased as he sat in the other chair.
“I only said it to warn you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and took a sip of the orange juice, trying to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling at sitting close to him.
He lifted a spoon, then paused. “Do you mind me joining you?”
“I think I owe you.”
Apollo set down his spoon. “I’ll pass.”
“What?” She drew back and frowned at him. “Why? You can’t be serious—you have to eat.”
“I never want you to feel like you owe me anything. This is my job. It’s what I do.” For a man with so much determination and character, he was pretty young. Handsome, but still young.
“You know, you really don’t have to make everything a lesson.” She scooped a poached egg with the tomato sauce onto her plate and took some bread.
“Wait, are these—” He grimaced, spoon poised over the pan. “Runny eggs?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“Runny eggs are like snot.”
Laughing, she covered her mouth, nearly spitting out the bite she’d taken. “That is disgusting.”
“Exactly.”
“You are not allowed to complain until you try it.”
“So, not just captivity but torture too.”
She wanted to smile, but his words felt…too soon. Especially considering the injuries they’d both sustained within this House. And in the seconds that followed, she felt a wave of guilt for relaxing around him. Somehow, it felt wrong. Like…failing.
And that could not happen. She could not let this guy slip in with his smirk, muscles, and charm to dismantle a lifetime of work, tearing control from her grasp.
“So…safari,” he said, grabbing a chunk of bread to dip in the tomato sauce of the shakshuka. “Do you know how long it’ll be or where we’re going?”
“I only know it is fourteen days.”
Owen gaped. “Two weeks? That…is longer than expected.” He seemed to recover with a wan grin. “But…safari.”
Folding her arms over her chest, she sat back. “I don’t even understand why they’d invite me. In Paris, I carried the bags. Guess Daria wants me to be bait for the wildlife while she flees.”
“Bait’s my job,” he said, thumbing toward himself.
Despite his light tone, she didn’t like it. What was the point of Daria including her in all this. What was the long game? Would she be responsible for Apollo getting hurt too?
“Hey.” His hand landed on her knees. “You okay?”
She bounced her gaze around the table, thinking. Did they want her to have an unfortunate accident? Hope she’d die? Was Apollo right that the royals were working to turn the king against her? Was the king regretting bringing her here? But…how would that reconcile with the fact he wanted Ummi back?
“It just doesn’t make sense…” That’s when she felt the tremor in her chest, the rampage of fear. All her certainty that being here meant she could control staying alive and thereby keep Ummi alive suddenly seemed compromised now. She felt backed into a corner.