‘No matter your failings, I’ve decided you’re more useful to me out of prison than in it.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘USEFUL?’ ESME ECHOED.
Dark eyes gleamed at her, the haughty expression having deepened between the time she’d paced to and from the stunning arrangement of cushions on the floor. But alongside that expression she sensed something else, something that accelerated her heartbeat. Something she desperately wanted to deny. But no matter how hard she tried, a part of her brain remained locked on the magnificence of the man before her.
In her hotel room, fear and adrenaline had ruled, dictating her actions, although the keen awareness of him had been present too. Now, in the soft, exotic luxury of the lamplit room filled with his towering presence, her awareness of him had heightened to far more disturbing proportions.
‘Do you need the word defined for you? I have a need for you other than as an inmate wasting away in my prison cell.’
She shook her head in confusion, an action she seemed to have repeated a few times in his presence. ‘Let me get this straight. You didn’t come to my aid out of the goodness of your heart but rather on the basis of what I could give you?’
The moment she said the words she realised how needy and damning they sounded. But the all-powerful man in front of her didn’t give an indication that he cared one way or the other.
Zaid Al-Ameen merely shrugged, his hands easing out of his pockets to remove the robe that layered his tunic and drape it lazily over an armchair. ‘Primarily. But there’s room to negotiate what you could stand to gain from this arrangement.’
Through the prickling of an even sharper awareness at the sight of the impressive chest and muscles straining beneath the black tunic, Esme absorbed his words.
He wanted something from her.
Just like her father did and had done for the endless years before she’d been forced to walk away fro
m him. Just like everyone did at one point or another in her interaction with them.
The emotion that lodged in her chest felt absurdly like hurt. Absurd because in no way should this man have the power to wound her. She’d barely known him for a day.
Pushing the feeling away, she tightened the arms clasped around her middle and returned his stare. ‘And what arrangement would that be, exactly? Your Highness?’ She tagged on the title to remind herself of the vast differences between them.
‘Reparations for the damage you’ve caused,’ he stated imperiously.
‘Reparations?’ Damn it, she really needed to stop parroting his words. ‘But I have nothing to give you.’
‘On the contrary, I have a need for you that would restore some goodwill in your favour.’
Her spine tingled with premonition. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’
His long arms clasped behind his back, the movement tugging her attention once again to the ripple of muscle beneath cotton. ‘You’re a social worker, are you not?’
She frowned. ‘Yes.’
‘There are organisations here in Ja’ahr that could use your expertise. While you’re here, you will work for me.’
‘Work for you? Doing what?’
‘Exactly what you do back in England, helping displaced families and offering practical guidance to young adults who need it.’
She reeled at his accurate description of her role at Touch Global. ‘Just how much research did you do on me?’ she asked, a thudding starting in her chest at the prospect of Zaid Al-Ameen finding out everything about her, including the one incident she could never wash from her soul.
‘I know relevant details.’
The imprecise response didn’t bring a single ounce of relief. But she clung to the hope that if he’d gone searching for facts about her work, then Sultan Zaid wouldn’t have uncovered her most damning secret.
But the man you’re dealing with is a ruthless prosecutor also known as The Butcher.
Her relief collapsed under the stark reminder.
‘Do I have your agreement?’ Zaid pressed.