3
ARIS
OVERALL, I’D GOTTEN TOO much pleasure from my evening with Roya so far.
The woman had turned out to be more mysterious than I’d thought, a puzzle waiting to be figured out. Every so often, she sent me longing glances that stoked the heat spiking inside of me. Then she’d steel herself in such indignant armor, shooting pointed poisonous words at me.
She carried a dagger?
Just my type of woman.
She was much more headstrong than I would’ve believed . . . an intriguing mix. And she hadn’t even flinched when I’d told her how her bastard daddy had double-crossed me.
She’d turned as pale as a bedsheet, though, at my mention of the Russian mafia.
But that red leather skirt . . .
Her ass had felt big, bouncy, magnificent when I’d landed those few smacks on her.
I would definitely be spanking that round ass again, most likely tonight.
Her uncle was a problem, however. Whatever the deal was with him, no way was it kosher. Why would he send a death squad for his niece? And what else was her father in the dark about that I could use against him? For some reason, I believed Roya was actually innocent in all of this.
Not for long though. Not now that I’d gotten my hands on her.
Da. The uncle probably needed to meet a quick, untimely demise.
The moment Roya understood I wasn’t letting her go, her eyes flared, and she tried to make a dash for the door.
That tighter than tight skirt made it easy for me to overtake her. I planted myself right in front of her, effectively barring the door.
“You don’t understand, Aris. I’ll be persecuted if I don’t get back to the palace. If my father finds out about all these nights . . .” Actual fear made her almond shaped eyes appear bigger.
I wouldn’t let myself feel even an ounce of pity. “Well, I guess you should’ve thought about that before you decided to visit my club.”
“You have absolutely no conscience, do you?”
I shrugged. “Not when it comes to business.”
Her lips pruned together, and her chin tilted up.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned against the door. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about why your uncle was coming after you?”
“You don’t know that it was him for certain.”
“In fact, I do. One of the hitmen mentioned your name before I put a bullet in his brains.”
Suddenly she seemed very unsure and very small. And unfortunately, something did twist in my guts.
I reached out and tugged on her hand. “Come. I want to see this room of yours.”
“Why?”
“Just call it curiosity.”
Although she huffed in annoyance, she allowed me to guide her out into the hushed corridor. There was only one other penthouse on this level, and I couldn’t take the elevator inside my quarters since it only led up to the interior of the nightclub and down to the underground parking lot for security purposes.
Once we reached Roya’s floor, I kept my hand on the butt of my gun just in case the uncle’s thugs tried to make another grab for her.
I didn’t see any suspicious characters, but I made a quick sweep of her rooms once she let me inside.
“It’s all clear.” I rejoined her near the door.
Her hand lifted to her slim neck. “You really think they’re after me?”
“Yes, I do, prinkípissa.”
She managed to bite back a retort that time when I called her princess, perhaps too shaken to take a stab at me again.
I strolled more leisurely around her suite, starting with her bathroom. A small cosmetics bag was open, but aside from mascara and lipstick there wasn’t a lot of makeup. The woman didn’t need any with her smooth caramel complexion that so easily drew a man’s eyes.
She watched as I lifted her perfume bottle. With my gaze connected to hers, I breathed in the heady scent.
A pinkish tint highlighted her cheeks when I murmured my approval.
She quickly composed herself, snatching the bottle away and slamming it to the vanity.
Chuckling at her mutinous glare, I motioned for her to proceed me into the main area.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Standing to the side of me as I opened an ornate wardrobe, she was as stiff as could be.
I was looking for all her delicious secrets, and it seemed like I’d found them.
Inside the delicately scented wardrobe, many outfits hung, captivating dresses and silky tops and, at the bottom, many pairs of expensive high heels.
Everything looked as tasteful as the ensemble she had on, but the western clothing had to be off limits.
“This isn’t appropriate attire for you, is it,” I commented, drawing a fingertip down a midnight blue sleeveless top that had a very low scooped neckline.
She bristled even more.