The room cart loaded, he and Jace moved to the elevators. He was a ball of nervous energy as they waited for the elevator to ascend to the twenty-ninth floor.
Without a word to the other, they moved down the hall to the door of the suite, where a guard was standing outside. He waved his hand, ordering them to stop before knocking on the door. Another hulking guy, armed by the way his jacket bulged, came out to meet them.
He caught Jace’s warning, the slight shaking of his head, telling him not to do anything rash. But to be ready.
Not going to be a problem.
…
Meredith pressed her head to the door, trying to hear what might be going on at the other side. She had to congratulate the hotel on their soundproofing. Everything was muffled. Damn. But from the furor going on, she was sure the sheikh had arrived.
There were loud voices just outside her room now, so she took a step back. Someone was going to come through that door any second. For a moment she debated hiding, but she knew that would be pointless, since she wasn’t five and there were only so many placed a full-grown woman could hide—for maybe twenty seconds before they discovered her.
The knob turned, and she held her breath.
Ayman walked in, his suit jacket and tie gone. The top buttons of his white shirt undone. The smirk on his face was enough to tell her the intent behind this visit. It was time. This was really going to happen.
And there was no one who could stop it or save her.
Except herself.
Feigned submission, similar to what she’d pulled with Peter, was her only plan. Not that that had gone particularly spectacularly for her, but it was the only scheme she could come up with. If she were lucky, he’d be carrying his gun and she could blow his balls off before he had a chance to do any real harm. Then she’d do the same to that sheikh.
“It looks like the sheikh is now comfortable in his room, and I am free to my own devices.” He pulled the cuff links from his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, deliberately watching her. He turned in profile to set the cuff links onto the desk, and she caught a glimpse of the gun tucked in his pants.
Bingo.
But how to play this? If she acted too compliant, he was sure to suspect something. She nixed the idea of playing the temptress, as he’d surely see through it. Best to just appear reluctant and resigned.
He unbuckled his belt and loosened the top of his pants, then nodded toward the bed. “Lie down.”
She chewed her bottom lip, as if in contemplation, making a show of rubbing her arms up and down before taking tentative steps toward the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, unable to bring herself to lie down per his instruction.
There was only so much docility she could feign. Instead, she met his gaze.
She didn’t expect the full thrust of his palm as he backhanded her and she tasted blood as her head whipped to the side.
“You’ll do well to remember who is in charge. Eye contact is something you earn. And until then, you will not look at me or anyone. Now, lie down.”
Meredith fought the urge to rub her cheekbone and instead dropped her gaze. His arousal was obvious. The pain he caused her enough to incite him, even more so as he shoved her back against the bed and climbed up, pinning her between his knees.
Her chest was tight, constricted, and once again she fought for breath and brought her hands up, but he grabbed her wrists and held them painfully above her head with one hand. He gripped her face with his other, hard enough to leave bruises along her jaw. He smiled then, knowing the pain he was inflicting.
That was what he wanted. What turned him on. A struggle. Meredith forced herself to focus on relaxing her body, taking in breaths until her breathing returned to a more normal level. She couldn’t lose control.
He was watching the changes on her face with interest. He let go of her chin and pressed his hand down the length of her body until he reached the side of her hip.
Don’t move. Don’t fight. Not yet.
He watched her with that smug smile on his lips as he tugged on the white gown until he exposed her naked lower half. Despite the burning humiliation, she stayed still. His excitement was bright in his eyes, and he finally took his gaze from hers to stare down at her nakedness. His breath grew more labored as he dug his hand into the front of his pants, his grip on her wrists slack now, and she couldn’t risk waiting another moment.
She yanked her hands free, and while his hand was still inside his pants, she grabbed the butt of his gun sheathed in a sling at his waist. Having watched Travis pull his gun several times over the past few days, she mimicked his actions now and used her thumb to disengage the safety.
That got his attention, and he stopped to stare down at the gun she held pointed directly at his head.
“Now get off me, you son of a bitch.”
His eyes flared with rage, but he sat back as she slipped from underneath him and climbed off the bed. “Where’s my daughter?”