Page 21 of Guarding Zuri
Her blood heated, cracking the walls containing her emotions. “Pleased that I’m leaving my homeland? That my father’s body is on its way to our village without me? I am his only living relative, and I cannot be at his funeral.” She kept her eyes open, allowing the air to dry any tears.
Daemon’s expression darkened. “I thought you understood why that couldn’t happen. Do you want to be buried next to him? Don’t answer that. You won’t because I swore to him—over his dying body—that I would take care of you.” He leaned across the table, face rigid, but his voice gentle. “Zuri, I am going to honor your father’s request.”
Her father’s last plea ripped through her soul. He had joined her hand in Daemon’s. A gesture signifying their betrothal. Surely her father didn’t mean for her to be with this man in marriage. Did Daemon know the custom after only spending two weeks in her country? Daemon had only agreed to protect her; that was all she’d agree to.
Zuri sighed. She settled back into the heat of the seat. Again, with the thoughts of being with this man for life.Ridiculous.Yet, Daemon was right about one thing: her death would be the end of the rebellion. Would Bendolans follow David if he carried the torch? Her people were proud. Although they would accept the help of their neighbors, they’d want a true Bendolan to lead them to democracy. But she couldn’t give Daemon another win. Not after what she had lost today. Her eyes skittered around the plane. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Princess, you need everything I’ve got. And you’ll be grateful for it too.”
Her gaze snapped back to his. “What do you expect from me?”
His lips curved up to one side. She hated that her line of sight found its way to his mouth. “I expect full cooperation. Fighting all the time hinders my ability to keep you safe.”
“You mean all this money you have can’t buy everything?”
He cocked a brow at her and settled back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Zuri’s own defenses heightened. “My father’s money is his own.”
“Oh, so you’re too proud to ask your father for help?”
“I have enough pride to work for what I have.”
“How much did my father promise to pay you?”
“I can’t be bought.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll double it if you return me home.”
Both brows shot up. “And just what do you do, Princess? Revolution pays well?”
She balled her hands into fists. Fatigue burned away by the fire-sparked adrenaline in her blood. His perfectly curved lips were getting on every one of her last nerves. “I’m not some privileged dead revolutionary’s daughter.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“I started a degree in diplomatic studies, and I plan to finish once the revolution is successful.”
“Impressive.” She lifted her chin but didn’t thank him for the compliment. No matter how she framed herintentions, she had done nothing. He grinned widely. “Let me clarify, Princess. I meant, it’s impressive you knowanythingabout diplomacy since you’ve been riding me the moment we met.”
“You never answered my question.”
“Which one was that?”
“What did my father pay you?”
He stared at her for such a long time that Zuri regretted asking. Was it that much? Did her father have the money? They had spent most of what they had raised on logistics and guards, putting much of it back into the communities they visited. This man was the son of a wealthy man who made his own money, so he claimed. He would not slum it by protecting some resistance leader’s daughter in one of Africa’s smallest countries. What was in it for him?
“Nothing. Your father paid me nothing.”
His voice was below that of a whisper, so faint, yet loud enough to shatter her assumptions.He’s still arrogant. Except he had promised her father he’d protect her and he had treated him with dignity even during death. Shame cooled her defensiveness.
“I’m doing this pro bono,” Daemon continued. “You can thank David. He and I go way back. I owe him my life several times over.”
Zuri scanned Daemon’s massive torso, as though seeing him for the first time. Was that true? Had David saved this man’s life like he’d claimed?
“David’s a good man,” Daemon continued. “Risked his life for me. It’s nothing for me to do the same for you. Your father offered to pay me, yes, but I refused his money. The people of your country need it more.”
Those were the first statements he’d said that she agreed with. “David is a good man,” she echoed. And her countrymen and women were desperate for money promised by countries and pilfered by the man in charge. The man she hoped would one day—soon—be deposed. He bore responsibility for destroying their homeland and the loss of so many lives.
Joqi…
