Chapter 6 - The Prince's Pawn

Someone's at the Door

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Aria

I laid on the hotel bed, my hair damp from the shower, staring at the ceiling of the beautiful hotel room. Even for a basic business trip, the hotel room was fabulous and would have been reserved for high rollers at any American place. But I couldn’t enjoy it, couldn’t even bring myself to take snaps of the obviously custom bathroom fixtures and send them to my dad to get his take on what they’d go for if I swiped them.

I didn’t know what to do with myself at all. I had already texted Dave, and he said Arjun was out of surgery and in stable condition. That was good.

I had wanted to go with him to the hospital, but like everything else, it was sex-segregated, and I wasn’t family. Since I wouldn’t be allowed in the room, or maybe not even in the waiting area, it didn’t make sense for me to go.

The speed at which Prince Khalid and his bodyguard had beat feet out of that conference room was something to see. He was the victim. What was he scared of?

As for me, I was sweating bullets, terrified they would throw me in some stone-age prison without even questioning me.

But it had gone smoothly. I’d been questioned by a woman in an abaya, a yellow and silver safety vest draped over it with the police insignia. She hadn’t introduced herself, so I wasn’t sure if she was an actual cop or just some kind of girl liaison.

Either way, she’d asked me what happened. I had told her. When she asked me if I knew where Prince Khalid had gone, I’d truthfully answered that I didn’t and that was it.

Ninety minutes after watching some guy get his head blown off, I was back in the car that had driven us all here, the same driver looking distinctly displeased to have me in his back seat.

I hadn’t been sure what to do with Dave and Arjun’s luggage, so I’d brought it up to my room.

Now it was just me, three suitcases, the sound of the TV… and the memory of what I’d done.

I’ve never had a temper, not the way so many other people do. Surly would be a good descriptor of my temperament—a constant, low-grade irritation. But never rage.

Until today.

By the time I reached middle school, I had stopped caring when kids were shitty to me. We’d be moving in a few months anyway, so why bother getting upset? And as an adult? There was no one I gave a single crap about, not one human who was worth getting my blood pressure up for.

Today was different. Today I wanted to kill someone. And I did.

I wanted to tell Dad about it. I owed it to him.

I had broken a promise to him and I needed to know if he would forgive me.

Tears stung my eyes as I looked down at my phone. He hadn’t picked up when I called, and more than an hour later, he still hadn’t texted back.

I hoped it was because he was napping, and not because the bitches had once again left him alone without help.

I should never have come here.

A sudden knock on the door jolted me upright in the bed.

It didn’t sound like the knock of a maid.

Immediately, visions of black-clad SWAT team members staging outside my door flooded my mind. Maybe the police had come back with more questions. Maybe they’d cut open that fat mother fucker and found out he most certainly didn’t die of a heart attack.

My heart pounded in my chest as I hesitated, hoping I was overreacting. SWAT wouldn’t have bothered knocking, right?

Trying to steady my breath, I climbed out of bed, immediately sorry I had set the air conditioning so low as goosebumps rose up all over my bare arms and legs.

I tiptoed up to the door and leaned into the peep hole.

The sight of Khalid standing outside my door froze me in place.

Oh fucking shit…

I could see Callum standing just behind him, a white bandage taped over his nose. Even though his eyes were swollen and discolored, his head was on a swivel, looking for anyone who might be coming down the hall.

I stood perfectly still, breathing hard as I kept my face pressed to the door.

Khalid said nothing. Didn’t knock again either. He just looked right at me, like he could see me through the door, then raised his hand, holding up a black keycard right in front of the peephole.

Oh my god. I let my forehead drop against the door, the thump loud enough that I knew Khalid heard it.

Obviously, there was no point in pretending I wasn’t in the room. And there was no other way out. Even if the windows opened, I was on the fourteenth floor. Should I call the cops? They seemed interested in finding him.

But no… the way Khalid had looked down at me after I killed that guy. He knew exactly what I’d done and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t just tell someone, especially if he was in trouble with the cops.

There was no getting out of this.

I backed away, snatched my abaya off the edge of the bed, and pulled it over my head. No way I was facing this guy in shorts and a tank top.

I didn’t bother with the head scarf. Instead, with my bravest face, I opened the door.

His gaze fell on me like a tidal wave, taking me in with a clear expression of victory.

“Miss Summers,” Khalid nodded, his full lips turning up slightly. “May we come in?”

“This is a women-only floor. You’re not allowed up here,” I mumbled, feeling my shoulders hunch as I shrank back from him.

“Rules are not meant for people like me,” Khalid replied with a smirk, one that seemed forced.

The easy smile from the conference room was gone, replaced by an edgy energy that made the whole room vibrate.

“Weird thing to be proud of, but okay,” I conceded, stepping aside and letting them in. Not like I had a choice.

Khalid walked past me to the small table by the window. Callum, on the other hand, stopped as soon as he got in the door, looking down at me as he rested his hand on the frame. Waiting for me to let go of the door.

It sent a shiver down my spine, making me even more uneasy. Obviously, he’d be posting up right in front of the only available exit.

Great.

As soon as I let go, Callum closed it, sealing us all inside.

“Relax, Aria,” Khalid said with a small smile. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. I just wanted to see if you were all right.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” I replied, my mind clawing for some possible non-threatening reason they would have come here.

I stepped back, needing some relief from Callum’s overwhelming presence. It wasn’t a big hotel room, leaving me limited options. I could sit in the other chair at the table, right across from Khalid. Or I could sit on the edge of my bed.

I opted for the latter.

“Understandable,” Callum chimed in, his deep voice sending goosebumps up my arm. “But we don’t have a reason to harm you. I’m more than a bit grateful to you, actually.”

“Why are you Scottish, by the way?” I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity. I’d been shocked to hear him talk back in the conference room, his brogue even thicker than my dad’s working-class Irish accent.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Why are you a Yank?”

Touche.

I turned back to Khalid, who had leaned back in his chair, trying a little too hard to look casual.

“So if you’re not here to threaten me, what do you want?”

His mouth tightened just a bit—just enough to let me know I needed to fix my tone.

But then the smooth, practiced smile returned. “First of all, I want to thank you for what you did. That was brave to trust me with your secret like that. I think we both know those men would have been happy to hurt you just to prove a point. It had nothing to do with you and I won’t fault you for defending yourself. Nor will I betray the trust you put in me. Your secret is safe.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly feeling dry. The way he chose his words didn’t escape me. The trust you put in me… creating a sense of camaraderie between us. Your secret is safe… inserting himself as my protector.

Whatever I had thought of Khalid, I saw now he wasn’t just some handsome playboy. And he had not come here to thank me. No fucking way. He wanted something, maybe something I didn’t want to give.

Despite the threat he posed, that little flutter in my stomach was still there. He was undeniably handsome, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His charm was almost hypnotic, and I couldn’t help but wish that I could actually trust him.

“Have you always had your…  gifts?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, looking down at my hands. “I’ve had them as long as I can remember. But I never knew where they came from or why I have them.”

He nodded, his eyes glued to my face, analyzing every twitch in my expression, looking for deceit.

I had told the truth. I really didn’t know why I could do what I did. But I knew it had something to do with my mother. My dad had told me that much. There was a reason he had left Ireland, the land he loved, and his wife, who he had difficulty living without, even after all this time.

He loved her so much he wouldn’t even say her name. Whatever happened in the old country, whatever drove him across the sea, it had something to do with what I am. And what my mother wanted from me.

But none of that was any of Khalid’s business.

“Your powers are truly extraordinary, Aria,” he said. “I’d like to make you an offer, if that’s all right. One that could open up a whole new world for you.”

I raised an eyebrow, not liking how confident he looked. “What kind of an offer?”

“A job,” Khalid replied, not missing a beat. “A chance to work with me and learn more about your abilities.”

“Working for you?” I scoffed, trying not to let my fear show. Somehow I doubted he wanted me to be his secretary. “In a foreign country? My dad—” I cut myself off, pursing my lips. “I have responsibilities at home. Whatever the job is, I couldn’t possibly consider it.”

Khalid leaned forward, his eyes searching mine. “I’m sure you know I’m very wealthy. I can change your whole life. You and your parents. Husband, children?”

Without thinking, I shook my head, then blushed as a look of victory crossed his face.

“Think of it as an opportunity to grow,” Khalid suggested. “My company is expanding; it would look great on your resume. And I have the means to see about finding the source of your abilities.”

“You mean use me as a lab rat?” I snapped, stiffening.

“No, no,” he held up his hands, like I was a horse he’d spooked. “All for your benefit and exploration. Like any other overseas job, you keep your passport. Your job is at-will employment. You can leave at any time. And the compensation would be… substantial.”

I sucked in a breath at the mere thought of the amount of money he was offering. I could ask for a million-dollar signing bonus and he’d probably pay it. He could probably arrange to get Dad here, even with him not having a passport.

He could make all your problems go away… the thought slithered through my head. The voice of the stupid girl who, just hours ago, blushed at the handsome prince’s smile.

Even if he wasn’t trying to use me for his own ends—and he definitely was—there was no way I’d risk my freedom by living in this Islamo-Fascist hell hole.

“Thank you for your offer,” I said carefully, “but I can’t accept. My home is in Texas.”

Khalid studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his eyes softening with what I hoped was understanding.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “The offer remains open, should you ever change your mind.”

My shoulders sagged in relief, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that everything would be all right. “You won’t… you still won’t say anything?”

Khalid’s smile was like the sun breaking through clouds, warm and reassuring. “What, that I was rescued by a woman? No, I won’t be saying anything about that.”

He rose from his seat, straightening his still bright-white shirt dress. “All right, Callum. We should leave Aria to her evening.”

As Khalid strode toward the door, something about the way he moved caused a sudden chill to race down my spine. He had been so gracious, so understanding... it almost seemed too good to be true.

My stomach twisted as he reached Callum and gave him a subtle nod—the communication between them clear as day.

Callum pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket, leveling it at my chest.

“Wait!” I managed to gasp out, my eyes locked on the long barrel of the gun, the cold metal promising death if it were to fire. But it was too late.

The muffled pop of the gunshot echoed in the small hotel room, and I felt a crushing weight slam into my chest. Pain flared through my body, white-hot and all-consuming, as I fell back onto the bed.

My vision blurred as I stared down at the bright pink feathery tip protruding from my chest. The pain was overwhelming, but it also brought with it a strange sense of clarity. This wasn’t a bullet; it was a tranquilizer dart.

“Khalid?” I choked out, betrayal and disbelief fighting for dominance in my voice. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable. “Why?”

If he said anything in response, I didn’t hear it. I slipped into unconsciousness, my last coherent thought a bitter chastisement: You should have stopped his heart too.

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