Page 301 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

“But it’s not even supper ti?—”

Dropping the blanket, he unbuckled his belt.

Aliya scrambled into bed. Lying flat on her back, as stiff and flat as she could make herself, she held her breath. She honestly didn’t know what she feared most—that he might whip her with it or unfasten his pants entirely and crawl into bed on top of her.

He didn’t do either. Calmly, he rebuckled his belt without a word, then bending, he pressed his cool lips to her forehead.

“Grounded,” he reminded her. “Five days, this time. I’ll have your supper brought to you, but then it’s lights out for you. Do not disobey me again, my darling. You will not like the consequences, and I’m done giving warnings.”

He was leaning over her, one hand braced on the mattress, the other combing fingers through her wavy black hair. Her belly was a swarm of bees, their droning hum of warning tightening her insides until she couldn’t move. All she could do was lie there, her brother’s obedient baby sister, too scared to move.

“What do we say, Aliya?” he reminded, his fingers trailing from her hair to caress her cheek and the trembling of her bottom lip.

Her throat seized on her when she tried to swallow.

“Thank you for loving me enough to correct me.”

His face softening, he smiled. “I will always love you, Aliya. Always. That’s what brothers are for.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. Rolling onto her side, she endured the caressing stroke of his hand on her back until dropping one last lingering kiss on her head, he departed at last.

The door could not have closed behind him fast enough.

The warning bees were humming, and her skin was crawling so viciously, all she wanted was to jump in the tub again, but she couldn’t. She dared not move. Her room was full of cameras, and Fariq was always watching.

Holding the blankets tight around her, she rolled onto her back and stretched her legs before she cramped. It wasn’t until her toes bumped the pile of her shorts and tennis shoes on the foot of the mattress, she remembered them.

That he’d brought them back to her was almost as astounding as the fact he’d left them in a stack on her bed. He would never do that. Her brother was tidy to a freakish degree. A place for everything, as he liked to quote, and everything in its place—and woe be to the person who failed to follow that saying as if it were their life’s purpose.

She should put them away.

She looked to the door, reluctant to get up when he’d already put her to bed. She didn’t know if the consequences of being caught out of bed tonight would be greater or equal to the consequences of her brother finding the stack still on the foot of her bed—or worse, kicked off on the floor—come morning.

Throwing back the blankets, she hurriedly grabbed the shorts, throwing them into the bathroom hamper. Rushing the shoes to her closet, she quickly rearranged all the pairs that lined her shoe cupboards until there was a spot for the white canvas sneakers with her other white shoes. She accidentally dropped one as she was slipping them into place. When she did, a crumpled roll of paper fell out from between the laces and tongue.

She picked it up.

Financial institutes, account numbers, and a list of dignitary contacts.

It was the scrap of paper the agent had slipped her in the market. The one she thought she’d lost as she was running away from Christian.

A sound from the hallway outside her room jolted Aliya from her open-mouthed shock. Shutting the closet, she hurried back to bed, clutching the note in her hot and sweating palm.

No one came back into her room.

Financial institutes. Account numbers. Dignitary contacts.

She listed those three things over and over in her head, committing them to memory in case she lost the paper again.

Financial institutes.

She had no idea how she was going to get that, but now more than ever, she knew she had to get away, and there was just no way that would happen if she didn’t have help.

Account numbers.

If her brother caught her snooping, he’d kill her—maybe only figuratively, maybe literally. He’d never seriously hurt her before. He’d never punished her in front of someone else before, either. Nor had he ever put his hand between her legs and… andtouchedher.

Contacts.

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