Page 52 of Savage Games

Richard unleashed a vicious string of curses under his breath. Looking down, I could see why. Someone had placed hundreds of pins sticking straight out on the side of the fabric that would be against the skin. When you looked on the other side, all the pin tops were carefully hidden among the seams and whalebone stay stitching.

This wasn’t an accident.

“The blonde girl, it was her!” I blurted out.

While obviously not meant to kill, they were meant to send a nasty message.

With one of Richard’s men guarding the door to the lounge while he issued orders to the rest of his security crew, Richard wiped the already drying blood off my skin with the warm, wet cloths Maxine had brought. Each time I hissed from the sting, I could see the lines of his face harden.

He was furious.

Very, very furious.

Raising my hand to his cheek, I tried to reassure him. “I’m fine, really. It was just a nasty scare.”

Grasping my hand in his own, he placed a fervent kiss on my palm before placing our clasped hands over his heart.

Just as Richard was wrapping a long length of soft wool over my shoulders, Harris arrived.

“Secure the place. No one leaves,” ordered Richard.

“Should I call the police?” asked Maxine.

“No,” snarled Richard.

Everyone in the room exchanged anxious looks. They knew what his refusal to involve the authorities meant.

Swaddling me in my makeshift blanket, Richard lifted me in his arms. As he stormed out of the lounge, Harris kept pace. “Your Grace, it can’t be her. We took care of that situation months ago,” he declared emphatically.

“Obviously not,” ground out Richard through clenched teeth.

His arms tightened around me. I knew better than to ask any questions.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking… maybe I wasn’t the only woman Richard liked to play games with?

CHAPTER 18

RICHARD

“Find her,” I demanded.

The men in the room shifted in their seats.

Harris cleared his throat. “We can’t be certain it’s her. All the reports from Bahrain say she is still on Sheikh Hamad’s compound.”

“I’m telling you. She’s in London. She got into this house,” I raged as I pounded the desk for emphasis, “into my bedroom. And now this attack on Elizabeth? I won’t fucking stand for it.”

“We have a team of men en route to Bahrain now. There were no security cameras at Maxine’s but we are combing the area for CCTV footage. We also lifted some fingerprints from the scene. If it’s her, we’ll find her, Your Grace.”

Turning away, I stared out the window. Dark grey clouds had rolled in. There were already several drops of rain clinging to the windowpane.

A storm was coming.

“It’s her,” I said to no one in particular.

It was Nicole.

Nicole Fleming.

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