"Likewise. Next time it will be for leisure."
Is it not for leisure this time?
Or is that just something businesspeople say…
I fidget beside them. Wealthy people still make me uncomfortable. They see the poverty in my own mannerisms just as clearly as I see wealth in theirs.
Holding my breath as they talk, I sense my temperature rise from standing in the shadow of these two men who exude such potent and dangerous heat.
Absently, I chew on my bottom lip, and the man Clay is conversing with looks at me, catching my eyes on him.
I look down beneath his gaze. I'm not sure what it is about him—perhaps it's the unapologetic way his eyes cut through everything they land on… the current destination, my blushing cheeks.
I exhale hard, realisingbothmen have fallen quiet and now have their gazes glued to me.
"Hello," I say stupidly.
Clay grips my elbow, and I realise that I'm twirling my hair around my finger. I drop my hands to my side. "Malik asked if this is your first time to Dubai, sweet girl."
I smile forcibly at Malik. "Yes. It's like Wonderland."
Malik smiles wider, his eyes dark tunnels set ablaze by amber flames. "And you fell down the rabbit hole." His accent makes all his words seem curt and adamant, but I like it. It reminds me of power. Just like Clay's voice does.
"Ain't that the truth." I laugh nervously in response to his brilliant smile and uncomfortable attention.
"Well, I'm terribly sorry I'll be taking your friend away from you for a few hours tonight."
"My friend..." I glance at Clay, my throat tightening. "Yes, we are very friendly," I bite out through tight teeth.
Malik's grin grows.
Clay only displays that stunning practised contentment he shows the world. A man of utter control. Smooth and unaffected by others. "We haven't seen each other in many years, sweet girl, and you'll be exhausted soon. You barely slept on the plane."
Right.
I'll be exhausted soon by the sheer damn will of Clay Fucking Butcher. And I'm stillhis pretty little burden.
After a few pleasantries and a drink shared between the men, Clay guides me into the lift and up several floors.
A man stands at the entrance to a room, holding the double doors open, awaiting us.
Clay is quiet and unreadable now as we pass through the threshold to our room—No. Not a fucking room.
I gaze around the elaborate floor. Opposite to the entrance, a kind of lounge area with a large, recessed spa and love-seat style sofas overlook the vast Dubai cityscape.
I wander into the centre of the floor as Henchman Jeeves and Henchman No-name bring in our cases. Spinning a little, I take it all in.
The flooring to my left is gold and beige marble, while to my right, is a rich magenta carpet leading to a raised four-post bed draped with satin and silk, covered in pillows.
Camouflaged in front of the purple and gold encrusted wallpaper, a guard is stationed at every door.
Three doors.
The scent of smoke coming from a fancy kind of pipe on an elaborate stand in the lounge area awaiting Clay, I imagine, teases towards me like that brightly coloured cartoon smoke.
Dashing over to the window, I press my palms to the glass, peering down the edge of the building—the drop straight. The fuck.Down.My mind throws my body off the brink to experience the fall… It's surreal. Experiencing this devastating height and drop without the risk of falling weighs down my chest. "Woah.Dizzy," I say, stepping backwards.
The door shuts behind me, and I chase the sound, landing on Clay watching me intensely.