Possessing the Princess

“Who would that be?” I faked ignorance.

Taking a couple steps forward, Yas lifted one slim eyebrow with a look of utter disbelief. “Don’t you try to fuck with me, Aris.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a girlfriend, a fucktoy, or even a slut on the side.” I stifled the urge to look toward Roya again as the shift in lights picked up her shimmering black hair and sexy white top. “You know I prefer my women nameless and varied from night to night. Just like you used to pre-Daisy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve had a boner for her highness since that first time you caught a glimpse of her at the palace.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know, you have a remarkably filthy mouth for a female in this country where most of you are repressed little yes-women.”

She smirked. “What can I say? You don’t pay me enough to be polite to you.”

Now that was a damn lie.

Yas wasn’t going to let it rest about Roya though. “She’s a security risk.”

“Da.” As a female member of the royal family, she was a walking, talking high dollar target, in fact.

Make that a deliciously dancing, smoking hot high dollar target.

“Kick her out and ban her from the premises already.” Yas strolled nearer.

“You give me orders now?” I stared at the lean woman from my greater height with a cool expression on my face. “At least here, she’s relatively safe. Without her father’s security—and let’s face it, they never shadow her here—no one’s getting to her past our forces.”

I could tell Yasmin decided my insistence on Roya’s safety meant exactly what she’d said. That I’d had a hard-on for the female for a damn long time.

“I thought you didn’t care one way or the other,” she stated with a gleam in her eyes.

I didn’t. Not at all. There was only one woman I’d ever really cared about . . . and that was my mother. She was dead and that was that. I told myself that often enough that I’d even begun to believe it.

Sensing I wasn’t going to be swayed and that I was done talking, Yas left with an almighty huff.

I didn’t know who she thought she was. She was an employee, nothing more. She had absolutely no right to interfere in how I ran my personal life, which I definitely didn’t have and didn’t want.

With her gone, I went right back to my perch overlooking the dazzling club scene. I lit another cigarette, drawing in smoke as I avoided watching Roya with an unblinking stare.

Right.

That lasted for a whole five minutes.

Christ. The woman could definitely move. How had she learned to dance like that? I knew for a fact she was supposed to have led a sheltered life, kept practically imprisoned within the fortress of the palace.

She certainly shouldn’t be making herself conspicuous, out on the town at one o’clock at night, shaking her hips and twining her arms above her head.

My cock throbbed in time to the thumping tempo of the music.

Then—blyad—some dickhead grew enough balls to make a move on her. The bastard began grinding up behind her, not close enough to touch her but near enough to make me grit my fucking teeth. To say I didn’t approve was an understatement.

If that man touched her, I was going to bite his goddamn hands off.

I straightened all the way up, steam practically billowing from my nostrils when Asshole leaned down to say something in her ear.

There was bad blood between her father and me. Didn’t mean I wanted my goddamn blood spilled over his precious daughter if he ever found out she spent her nights raging in my club. Or if some horny idiot got too handsy with her.

On the other hand, I could use her presence to my gain given the right angle.

While I stared, my cigarette burned down to the filter, singeing my fingertips. I growled, stabbing out the butt then snarled louder as the guy dared to wrap an arm around Roya’s waist.

Seeing any random suka getting his hands on her made my blood boil for reasons unknown and better left ignored.

So what did I do?

I stalked to the door and yanked it open hard enough to send it smacking against the wall. I vaulted down the stairs and almost ran over the soldier guarding the second entrance. I barreled into the nightclub before slowing my respiration and my pace.

I emerged from the dark alcove, an imposing figure in a sharp suit with eyes as cold as a Siberian winter.

My intentions were the farthest thing from honorable as I stalked across the floor toward Roya in that sleek red leather skirt.

As I approached, it felt like a forcefield connected us, my feet on an unstoppable trajectory to the one woman who was so far off limits I could be signing my own death warrant.

Immediately identifying me, other clubbers skittered away as I approached Roya.

I wasn’t one of those happy, happy hang-with-the-people venue owners. I was a mean, brooding SOB and recognized rightly so.

Plenty of rumors circulated about me and my more deadly dealings although I guessed they couldn’t be called rumors when they were largely true.

Mr. Handsy backed off when he saw me focused on Roya, fear blanketing his features.

Roya alone held her ground, and the look settling over her beautiful face could only be described as challenging.

Her chin shot up. Her almond shaped eyes glittered. Her hair whipped from one shoulder to the other. And her red lips curled into a cool smile.

I’d take that as an invitation.