He moved so that he was standing a mere inch away from her and Faye couldn’t stop the thought that she wished he’d take her into his arms and hold her. She was scared that she’d be fired as soon as she left this space. If she were fired, then she’d never have the money to finish her research. Everything, her whole future, her hopes and dreams, her career aspirations, her dissertation research, depended on her staying here in Skyla so that she could finish her work! He didn’t understand that. He didn’t grasp that a few blisters on her skin wasn’t worth losing her whole future over! He most likely wasn’t aware that companies usually punished whistleblowers, even in countries where there were laws against such retaliation.
“You will not be fired!” he replied back with a confidence she wished she felt. “In fact, I will guarantee that you are not fired.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, and you have that kind of power, do you?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t said with any false bravado and, as Faye looked up at Zantar, she saw that his confidence was backed up by something…perhaps that aura of power was real and not just his arrogance. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper now.
Zantar stared down at Faye, not sure how to answer her. He didn’t want her to know who he was. For the first time in his life, he was courting a woman who had no idea who he was. In one way, it was unfortunate that she was an employee of the hotel in which he was staying for the week. But in another way, he was relieved to finally understand why her hands were so badly messed up. The sores and blisters had bothered him the first time he’d seen them but she’d seemed sensitive about them. Now he could use his power to help fix at least that issue.
But instead of explaining how his power was derived, he replied, “I’m just a man who has the power to make a few things right,” he told her honestly.
Obviously, that answer wasn’t good enough. “What do you do, Zantar?” she asked, and her voice now seemed hesitant.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She considered that question for a long moment, then slowly nodded. “Yes,” she finally replied.
That one word…it felt like a laser to his lust, inciting it higher than he’d ever thought possible. Lowering his head, he kissed her, trying very hard to be gentle. But the need to kiss her, taste her…hell, to possess her, to somehow imprint himself on her, was an aching need. So perhaps the kiss wasn’t as gentle as he’d hoped.
That was brought home when he lifted her into his arms, needing to feel her against his body, absorbing every shiver of excitement running through her. Deepening the kiss, he angled his head, his tongue teasing her lips as he surged inside her mouth, then backing away to nibble at her lower lip, her upper lip before going back for another taste. He wasn’t aware of his hands gripping her butt until he heard a sound. Lifting his head, he looked over at a man with a black satchel. He was quickly backing away and Zantar shifted, shielding Faye from the stranger’s eyes. He glanced around, but there was a bodyguard right behind the man.
“The doctor has arrived,” the guard announced, tilting his head towards the newest man.
Zantar looked down at Faye, wanting to roar with frustration when he saw that her eyes were still cloudy with desire. He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her off to his bedroom where they could take their time, explore each other a bit more. No, he corrected quickly. He wasn’t sure if he could go slowly. At least, not the first time with Faye. But looking down into her confused eyes, he reined himself in. He’d have to go slowly. She obviously wasn’t very experienced.
He liked that. He didn’t delude himself into thinking she was a virgin, nor did he even care about that. But he liked the idea of waking her sexually, showing her all the ways in which they could pleasure each other.
However, at the moment, he wanted to have this doctor take a look at Faye’s hands.
“I am Doctor Sworson,” the man announced, extending his hand to shake Zantar’s. It was a major breach of protocol and Zantar heard the butler gasp in horror, but Zantar took the doctor’s hand, shaking it firmly before turning to Faye. “This is your patient, Doctor. Take a look at her hands and,” he looked over the doctor’s shoulders to the butler. “Bring me the bottle I left on the counter in your area. Show the doctor what chemicals all of the hotel cleaning staff have been using.”
The butler’s features drained of color, but he disappeared back to the butler’s pantry to retrieve the bottle. Zantar suspected that the bottle had already been swept away into a hiding place by the hotel manager. It wouldn’t matter. The evidence of the toxic chemical was all over Faye’s hands, and most likely, showing on the hands of the rest of the cleaning crew.
Zantar turned to watch the doctor who was currently tsking over Faye’s hands.
“This isn’t good,” the doctor replied in Arabic.
“Faye doesn’t speak the language well enough to understand. Do you speak English?” Zantar asked.
The doctor looked up at Zantar, startled, then looked at Faye.
“I understand a lot,” she replied in Arabic, but her words were slow and she mispronounced “afham”, saying “aflam” instead, which meant “films”.
Zantar turned to the doctor, silently saying, “Now you understand?”
The doctor smothered his amusement and nodded. In English, he said, “How did you get these blisters, my dear?”
Faye tried curling her fingers to cover up the worst of the sores on the palms of her hands, but the doctor gently opened her hands up, adjusting his wire rimmed glasses as he examined them with his glove-covered hands.
“It’s nothing,” she replied. “I really should get back to work.” Her eyes glanced over towards the door where he suspected the butler was lurking, worried that the man would report everything she said to the general manager.
The doctor shook his head. “Not with these hands,” he warned her. “The laws in Skyla clearly state that hospitality workers cannot work with open wounds. And these, my dear, would definitely qualify! This is a health and safety issue.”
Faye gasped, her whole body tightening with dread. “No! But…I have to work!”
Zantar shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “You will not.”
“I must!”
“You can’t,” he countered.
Faye closed her mouth, pressing her lips together as she fought back an explosion of fury. “You don’t understand,” she finally gritted out. “I have to work! I need the money!”
The doctor opened up his black bag and pulled out a tube of cream. “This is antibiotic cream,” he explained, handing it to her and reaching for his prescription pad. “You need to put this on every one of the sores and scrapes, even the red areas because I suspect that they are about to blister, and this cream will help ease the pressure on the skin cells.” Once again, he adjusted his glasses. “Do you have any known allergies to medications?”
Faye shook her head, frustration almost choking her. She was going to ignore the doctor’s words and report to work anyway.
The doctor nodded. “I’ll inform the hotel that you will be out on sick leave for the next seven days. This cream has a numbing agent as well, so that should ease some of the pain caused by those blisters.”
“Seven days?” she whispered, horror causing her words to come out as a mere choked whisper. Thinking about her paycheck coming in just a few days, she wondered how she was going to spread that out to cover the next month’s rent, as well as food.
The man must have sensed her panic. “If you are a full-time employee of this hotel,” the doctor continued with a gentle expression, “then they are required to cover your lost hourly wages during your sick leave.”
Faye shook her head. “I don’t qualify. I’m a foreign worker here.”
The doctor tilted his head slightly. “Is that what the hotel management told you? That you won’t receive any sick leave benefits during your tenure here?”
“Yes,” she replied, sick with worry and hunger. She’d had the coffee with Zantar earlier this morning and she had a peanut butter sandwich in her locker. That was all she’d have to eat until she got back to her apartment where she could make a second peanut butter sandwich. In fact, a jar of peanut butter and a skimpy loaf of bread was all she could afford to eat until payday rolled around in a few days!
Damn computer! If her laptop hadn’t crashed, this wouldn’t be an issue! She’d have plenty of money for food and next month’s rent!
“Stop, Faye,” Zantar commanded, but his voice was gentle. Almost understanding.
Faye didn’t believe for a single moment that he understood what she was going through at this moment. Looking around her at this beautiful, enormous suite, she grasped that the man was disgustingly wealthy. He lived way up here in the clouds! He had no idea what it was like to struggle, to be concerned about where your next meal was coming from! Hell, she hadn’t even realized how desperate life could become until this summer when she’d traveled halfway around the world in order to research her dissertation material. Paying the mortgage on her small house back in Georgia, plus her living expenses here…she now more painfully grasped how desperate life could become!
And even in her situation, she had a return plane ticket fully paid for. She could just pack up and leave, go back home and not have to worry about food again.
However, if she did that, Faye would never see Zantar again! That thought was a bit more depressing and scary than not knowing how she would feed herself. Funny how life put worries into perspective.
The tearing of a piece of paper broke through her depressing thoughts and she pulled her eyes away from Zantar to look at the doctor.
“Here you go, my dear,” he announced, handing her the prescription.
“I’ll take that,” Zantar said, taking the paper before Faye could reach for it. “I doubt she’d actually fill the prescription.” He didn’t bother to glance at Faye when he said that. But Faye grimaced, knowing that he was right. She wouldn’t have wasted precious money on medicine for something that wasn’t fatal. Another issue that she’d never faced before but people in poverty probably had to deal with every day.
Sometimes, life’s lessons sucked!