Lie to Me (3 page)

Like Alexei. Sasha’s heartbeat kicked up a notch, the familiarity uncanny.

“He asked for a token evidencing my trust in him.” His gaze cut to her, sharp and direct. “He heard of your beauty. He heard also, though I am shamed to admit it, that you are my weakness.”

A knot began to form in Sasha’s gut. All the months of being put on a pedestal had come to haunt her in a far larger way than her origins or Mellilah had ever posed. Though she wouldn’t put it past that gloating witch to spread the whispers of Saeed’s supposed weakness. Mellilah would be glad to be free of Sasha.

“You’re not…sending me to China…are you?” She could hardly get the words out, the thought struck such fear.

Saeed gave her a frown. “Do not be silly. I would never send you from here unless such was your wish.”

Saeed placed two fingertips beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “I offered to share you for one night. We will both come to you tonight. For your sacrifice,
habibti
, I swear upon my soul, you will know nothing but pleasure.”

Her eyes widened in shock. Not just Saeed, but a stranger? Two
men, in her bed. One she trusted. One she didn’t know at all. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew she ought to feel shame. Outrage. Something other than the kernel of excitement that popped inside her soul. That she didn’t made her uncomfortable. She squirmed out of Saeed’s gentle hold.

Saeed clasped her hand, his intense gaze willing her to believe. “I also swear, such will never happen again—unless you request it.” His thumb stroked the back of her knuckles. “As my beloved partner, Sasha, your happiness will know no restrictions.”

Dumbfounded both by what he proposed would happen this evening and the selflessness in his promise of their future, Sasha’s jaw dropped.

Saeed winced. “I have offended you.”

“No…” she answered hesitantly, uncertain how to define the emotion skittering through her veins.

Shifting closer, he twisted so one knee touched her thigh. His fingertips grazed up her forearm to her elbow. “You promise I have not?”

“I promise.”

“Good then,” he murmured as he dipped his head. His breath danced against her lips. Warm fingers slid higher to the tank-style sleeve of her sheer baby-blue blouse. Then his caress drifted downward, and he trailed the back of his hand over the curve of her breast.

Featherlight, the unexpected touch combined with the whisper of his lips and the shocking idea of what tonight would involve. Her thoughts rioted between surprise, curiosity, anticipation, and shame. A shiver rolled through her all the way down to her toes. She arched into the press of his palm with a gasp.

“I promise nothing but your pleasure,” Saeed murmured before he took her mouth again.

As a foreign sense of attraction for this man tumbled through her veins, Sasha yielded to his tempered kiss. His fingers stroked the soft flesh of her breast until her nipples hardened into tight buds. Funny how he’d never once elicited this sort of response from her. But under
the command of his hands, guided by mental images of his promised evening, and tormented by memories of another kiss, another touch, another beard that scratched her cheeks, she yielded to repressed desire. Two years she’d gone without a man’s touch, known only the satisfaction she could give herself.

Saeed might not turn her insides into jelly or make her willing to beg as she had with Alexei, but it had been so long. And in his own way, Saeed was tied into her heart.

Arousal stirred in the depths of her womb, seeping lower to moisten between her legs. But as she squirmed against the building pressure, Saeed abruptly pulled away. A smile settled on his full mouth.

“I must meet with him. Asiya will see to your preparations.”

Before she could blink through the chaos of her thoughts, Saeed strode from Sasha’s sitting room, leaving her to dwell on the lingering magic of his hands and the forbidden promises of the night to come.

S
aeed stopped in the hall and leaned his forehead against the cool white wall. He felt as if every portion of his being were locked in conflict. The secrets surrounding his father’s death, the weight and undesired responsibility of stepping into leading the family, the deep affection he felt for Sasha—none of this he had wanted. He’d been perfectly content traveling the world, reveling in the Western traditions he enjoyed—along with the freedom of taking the women he desired—until he’d been asked to protect one of his father’s slaves. Saeed had taken one look at her malnourished figure, the emptiness in her blue eyes, and instantly known he’d devote his life to fulfilling his promise.

Now he put her safety in danger to protect the other half of his responsibilities. And he knew that though Sasha had said she understood, in time, when enough women had been trafficked through his hands, this would become a wedge between them.

He took a deep breath as voices drifted from his front hall where
his staff was handling Vasily’s arrival. If it weren’t for the man’s years of service in China and his contacts, which Saeed had verified, he would never risk something like this. But even Saeed, who had done all he could to stay away from the corruption of wealth, had recognized Vasily’s name. Men like Vasily had a reputation that rumbled through the quieter circles of the elite who didn’t share Saeed’s moral convictions.

“He will join you in a few moments. Please make yourself comfortable,” Saeed’s man directed.

Footsteps echoed across the marble flooring beyond the door that separated off Saeed’s personal quarters, signaling Vasily had entered the front room.

Just for a moment, Saeed wished the fabricated arguement between Alexei and his father had occurred, and that his father had killed the agent. If Amir had, Saeed would be free of the despicable compromises he had been forced to make. But he hadn’t, and though the agent had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth—as would be expected—that man still possessed the ability to destroy Saeed’s family no matter what Saeed agreed to tonight. Alexei Nikanova knew, more than anyone, that he had not assassinated Amir. If he chose to speak of it, if he still monitored the activities here, the resulting nightmare would never end.

Saeed pulled in a deep, fortifying breath and pushed away from the wall. He could not worry about Alexei now, nor the concessions he’d made both to his own beliefs and to Sasha. He must see this through. He knew no other way to protect the ones he loved. Including Sasha, who had entrusted him with her dark past, and who he had sworn to protect with his life.

W
hen he’d become an errand boy, much less a baby sitter, Alexei Nikanova couldn’t say. He thought he’d risen above the menial task of fetching coveted items and entertaining troublesome women when he joined the Black Opals ten years ago. Evidently, he’d been mistaken.

Glancing around Saeed’s opulent marble foyer, Alexei bit back a mutter. He’d also thought he was finally free of this damned desert weather and these power-hungry sheikhs. After Natalya Trubachev, the Opal he’d worked with in Moscow, had blown the
Bratva
’s human trafficking ring open, and he’d fought like hell to get the enslaved women home to somehow make amends for kidnapping them, Alexei thought he would never set foot in Dubai again.

If he hadn’t accidentally taken the wrong girl two and a half years ago, he might have seen that wish fulfilled. As it was, Sasha Zablosky’s father was raising holy hell about his missing daughter. When HQ realized she was the same Sasha holed up with Saeed, they’d borrowed the identity of Vasily, who they had very recently captured, and sent Alexei back to clean up his mistake so fast he barely had time to formulate a strategy.

He’d protested, to be sure. Between the risk of being recognized and his borrowed alias, no operative wouldn’t. But bitching got him nowhere except on a plane with false papers once again in hand. Halfway across the ocean, he’d kicked himself for refusing to look at the
photographs they offered. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at the innocent face. Now, his guilt-driven reaction forced him to rely on someone else’s analysis and only made the situation more dangerous.

If Amir’s cherished son could actually arrive on time, Alexei might yet get out of this mess before things went from bad to horrible. The only saving grace he could take a modicum of relief in was that Saeed had never met Alexei or Vasily. Just Alexei posing as Vasily.

He shifted his weight, eyeing the doorway at the far hall that led to Saeed’s private wing of the palace. If he stopped to think about what he was about to do, he’d hate himself more. For fuck’s sake, he was entertaining the same sick pleasures that he had fought to stop. Sure, he had been an integral part of condemning women like the very same Sasha he was extracting, and that knowledge ate him up like cancer. But jobs were jobs, and they’d been that way since…

Since other things he’d stopped thinking about long ago.

Things that were better left in the dark. Where he couldn’t acknowledge who or what he was. What he’d become.

Where the hell are you, asshole?

Alexei was pissed off, nervous, and antsy. Individually, any of those emotions were enough to land him in an unmarked grave. Combined, they were nothing short of suicidal. If he had a bit of sense he’d get the hell out of here and forget about this little intimate arrangement, find some other way to handle the extraction. But no, he’d orchestrated this. It was the only way to get to Sasha alone. Besides, the more time he spent in-country planning alternate tactics, the higher the risk of being ousted. He couldn’t bail. Failure wasn’t an option.

He took a deep breath and willed the anxiety aside. The weight of his Sig resting against his side offered comfort. Saeed trusted him. Enough to let him enter the palace armed.

The young sheikh’s first mistake—but he’d learn soon enough. The rest of the lessons Saeed would learn tonight…Well, with a little luck, things wouldn’t get out of hand. Alexei really didn’t want to up
the body count any higher. Too many people had given their lives for this crazy nightmare. Those who died in body, and those who died in spirit.

Hurry the fuck up.

Before other memories surfaced about another woman he’d betrayed. A waif-thin scrap of a girl whose pale blue eyes still gazed up at him in silent acceptance of the hell he’d sent her to.

Footsteps echoed behind the closed door as Alexei’s thoughts took a dangerous slant. He rolled his shoulders and forced Irina down into the depths of his mind. She’d surface again—she always did. But for now, he needed to focus on getting himself, and Sasha, out alive.

Saeed’s strong frame filled the distant doorway, his smile as welcoming as if they were long-lost friends. Alexei’s gut cinched tight. They could never be friends, even though they shared the same sins.

“Vasily.” Saeed greeted him heartily. He clasped Alexei’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Welcome to my home. I trust my security did not harass you?”

It took all of Alexei’s willpower to keep his voice even and void of the distaste that surfaced to the back of his throat. He took care to make his English stilted in accordance to his Russian cover. Though in truth, after so many years of speaking nothing but Russian, he didn’t have to work hard.

“No. It went as I expected.”

“Come then.” Saeed gestured at an open alcove where stark white modern furniture sat against steel gray walls. “Let us discuss business first. Then we shall indulge in the entertainment.”

Entertainment—Alexei forced himself not to grimace. Saeed might get off tonight, but Alexei wouldn’t. His body would respond, but just like before the Opals, his mind would be elsewhere. Saeed’s presence made it more tolerable. Distance was easier to achieve as the third.

He fell into step behind Saeed and followed him to the smaller room. As they approached a floor-to-ceiling gilt mirror, he cut his gaze
to the man in front of him. Saeed’s stride spoke of natural-born confidence. Of Amir’s three sons, he was the middle boy. Rumor held he came into the kingship by chance. That Amir and Mohammad, his eldest, had a falling out at the last formal meeting between Arabic nations. In a fit of temper, Amir denounced Mohammad. He’d killed himself before ever taking the insult back. Alexei knew the truth, despite the rumor that he’d offed Amir when he was exposed as the head of the trafficking ring. Though Alexei wished like hell he had.

All things considered, Alexei thought Amir made the smarter choice. Intel reports labeled Mohammad as a radical loose cannon. At least Saeed didn’t support the terrorist Muslim factions. And from what Alexei had heard, Saeed didn’t subscribe to the practice of permanently marking his women. Something Sasha and her father could be glad about.

“Would you care for a drink?” From behind a stocked bar of moderate size, Saeed indicated a hanging row of empty glasses.

“Water, please.”

“Indeed. A much smarter approach to business, I must agree.” He filled two stemmed glasses with ice, then poured water from a dark green bottle. Rounding the bar, he joined Alexei and gestured at a black leather chair. “Do sit down, Vasily. We shall be intimately acquainted before the night is through.”

As Alexei sat, he couldn’t stop a frown. “Is she willing? Did you
ask
?” He refused to force himself on a woman.

Saeed chuckled. “I care for her. If she had protested, I would be offering you other choices.”

Another way of saying no, he hadn’t asked. Very well. Alexei would play it by ear. He didn’t need to fuck the woman to accomplish this mission. It had merely been the quickest, easiest option to get a little time alone with her and catch Saeed with his guard down. If she resisted anything tonight, Alexei would find an alternate solution. Even if it meant spending more time in this godforsaken city.

“So, these connections you possess. Tell me of them.” Suddenly serious, Saeed’s smile vanished and his demeanor took on the impassive air of business.

Alexei settled into the role he knew by heart. He’d done it too long. Let it get inside him, where it festered. Now it was ingrained routine. One he hated, but routine all the same. “The women are collected from private nightclubs where their…skills…are evaluated through their talent with dance.” Careful to adhere to Saeed’s preference to somehow dignify the act of trading women for sex, Alexei did his best to avoid the blunt truth that strippers were chosen by how thoroughly they aroused the crowd.