Page 38 of His Scarlette Obsession
I lift my head to stare at him. “You mean we’re actually...?”
“Married. Yes.”
Lykan
“I expected this,” comes the smooth, amused voice through my phone.
“Hello to you too, Khal,” I say, keeping my voice low because of my sleeping wife. Scarlette is curled against me, her dark hair spilling across my lap like silk. I can’t stop myself from threading my fingers through it. She’s been asleep for the past hour. Exhausted from what I did to her in the limousine.
The memory of her coming apart under my mouth still has my blood burning.
“Please extend my felicitations to your spymaster, Sheikh Rahim,” I continue in Sharasan, switching languages so she won’t understand even if she wakes. “His intelligence network is impressively thorough.”
“I am obligated to claim ignorance of such matters, but I will pass along your words.”
A non-admission admission...
How perfectly tyical of the Crown Prince of Kivr, whose quietly ruthless cunning has enabled him to emerge not only unscathed but heroic and victorious when he married his rebellious American stepsister.
“I look forward to the day when Rahim finds his match.”
“He’s only doing his job, as your spymaster does,” Khal returns dryly. Don’t pretend you didn’t know about Zahir falling in love in his previous trip to America.”
I’m about to claim ignorance of such matters, just for the fun of throwing my friend’s words back at him, when Scarlette stirs against me, and my hand still in her hair as her lashes flutter.
“Where are we?” she whispers.
“Almost to the airport.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Go back to sleep,habibti.”
She nods drowsily as she nestles against my chest, and the trusting gesture makes something twist in my chest.
She’s too trusting, dammit.
Doesn’t she know how easy this makes it for anyone to break her?
“You sound surprisingly...gentle.”
I can’t help bristling at Khal’s observation. “I have never lifted a hand against any woman—”
“There is more than one way to break a woman, Lykan.”
There’s that word again.
Break.
I have never been the type to believe in superstitions and coincidences, but why does that word suddenly sound ominous to my ears?
“Let’s not waste time with small talk,” I say brusquely. “I assume you have another reason for calling other than letting me know about your chief spymaster’s accomplishments?”
Our conversation comes to a timely end just as a private airfield comes into view, the royal jet already with its engine running and ready for takeoff. Khal and I confirm the details of our deal, which just like our many other deals in the past, will only be shared on a need-to-know basis.
Scarlette is still half asleep as I carry her up the steps, and her eyes remain closed even as I place her on the king-sized bed in the master suite. The room, just like the rest of the aircraft, is all black leather and pristine white walls, with charcoal accents gleaming under soft lighting.
It’s beautiful and quietly luxurious, but I might as well be blind to my surroundings. All I see is her, and I can’t seem to stop staring.
Mine.
Scarlette is mine.
