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And how right he was.
Distantly, I heard the elevator ding and assumed after some moments Yasmin had departed.
I let out a slow breath, and the door I huddled against creaked.
Immediately, Aris swung around, his eyes picking me out with unerring accuracy. In his hands, he held a large case inlaid with a beautiful design.
“Finished with your bath?” He ranged closer, and I wanted to shrink back into the shadows of the room.
I made myself stay right where I was, clutching the robe tight at my neck. “Yes.”
A wolfish expression angled his high cheekbones. “You could have asked me to join you.”
Putting on my haughtiest attitude, I scoffed, “The whole reason I took a bath was to wash you off of me.”
He nodded his head as if in admiration of my riposte, but his lips quirked at the corners. “Well, it’s good that you’ve cleaned up anyway because we’re going out in an hour.”
“We are?”
“Mmm.”
“Where?”
“All in good time. Put on something nice.” He pivoted to walk away but called back, “Whatever you want.”
Those were the words he’d used last night before bringing me to The Lykos, and a frisson of electricity pulsed through me.
In wearing that slinky red dress, I’d decided I’d pushed things a little too far between us. Especially considering the position I’d ended up in; tied up, tortured, and tantalized beyond my wildest imaginings.
I dressed much more chastely this time. Just a lovely dress with long fluttery sleeves. I arranged a gauzy hijab over my hair as I always did when moving about in public or even in the palace when men were present. As an afterthought, I grabbed a pair of sunglasses from one of my clutches. The harsh Dubai sun would be the brightest thing I’d seen in days.
Apart from Aris’s glowing blue irises.
When I joined him, those eyes skirted up the dress then halted at the hijab. His lips turned tight.
“Take that off.” He pointed at the headscarf.
“I . . . it’s customary.”
“I don’t give a single solitary fuck. Take it off,” he ordered brusquely.
A thrill, almost sexual, ran through me. I obeyed him at once.
“Better,” he murmured. “There were too many times when I couldn’t see your gorgeous hair . . .”
The words hummed between us until he closed off his expression. He offered me his arm and escorted me to the elevator. I discovered the car did go down, at an alarming speed, with only one stop.
We exited into the cavernous surrounds of the underground parking lot of The Sultan’s Plaza hotel to be immediately flanked by a group of those nightclub bouncers. The men who’d helped gun down my uncle’s hired thugs.
Bratva soldiers.
I wondered if Aris always traveled with such a heavy guard detail. I certainly hoped all of this wasn’t on my account.
After handing me into the passenger side of a Mercedes-Benz, he got in and started the engine. One black vehicle drove out in front of us, another larger SUV tailing behind.
I fought not to fidget or demand to know where we were headed but nerves sliced through me nonetheless. Peering at Aris, I noted the tension running along the line of his shoulders too, the twitch of that muscle at the back of his jaw.
My anxiety went into overdrive when I realized Aris’s destination was none other than the Dubai Autodrome.
Father had a large interest in the racetrack and was on the cusp of acquiring his own Formula 1 team. Just like all the other international tycoons, he wanted to own a piece of every elite pie.
An event must’ve been taking place because hundreds of vehicles packed the vast lot. Then I spied the black limo with the Dubai and UAE flags on the hood.
Aris pulled up in the next reserved spot and turned off the engine.
“Father is here,” I said in a deadened tone.
“Da.” Aris’s voice carried no inflection either.
“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” I hissed, scrambling for the door handle.
Latching onto my shoulders, he forced me around so I had no choice but to meet his hard eyes. “I don’t really want to get locked up for abduction, Roya.”
