Chapter 10 - The Prince's Pawn
Callum is NOT Amused
Aria
With my legs firmly clamped around Khalid, I grabbed his face with my hand, like I was trying to make him take his medicine, and I gasped as it all washed over me.
Despite the cool and charming aura he showed on the outside, the man was a raging cistern of fury, the likes of which made my own tantrum in the conference room look weak by comparison.
His life had gone from happy and unbothered privilege to skating on the edge of execution in mere months. His grief at being told his father was dead from anaphylactic shock, his impotent rage at his dumbest uncle ascending the throne, the way his sisters were confined to their homes and forced to wear black bags. It all changed him.
His willingness to snatch me and solicit me for murder was just one of many symptoms of his growing anger… and desperation.
Buried beneath all those heavy emotions was something else—a magnetic attraction to me, mixed with guilt for having kidnapped me. Through his eyes I saw him looking down at my unconscious body in the car, thinking I was pretty and hoping I wouldn’t be mad at him when I woke up.
Don’t wish too hard on that one, sweetie.
The moment seemed to stretch on forever, Khalid’s dark eyes staring into mine as our connection deepened.
Until a concrete vice grabbed me around my ribs.
“Get off him!” Callum roared, lifting me off Khalid’s lap with enough force that it made me gasp.
“It’s fine,” Khalid mumbled, looking dazed.
I grunted as Callum flung me against the wall, the pictures shaking with the force of my impact.
He was breathing hard, his fists balled up as he stared at me, sending an electric current running through the air between us.
“I think we’ve had enough social time for the night. You’ve got a proposal to think over.” Callum bit off every word and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me along with him as he dragged me from the parlor.
The fact he was now wearing gloves did not escape my notice.
He dragged me down several hallways, back to my stateroom. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process everything that had just happened, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. I had gotten what I wanted from Khalid.
I knew who I was dealing with now.
And I knew I wouldn’t be going home until his uncle was dead.
“Sit down,” Callum ordered, pushing me onto the bed.
“Sit down,” I repeated, mimicking his accent. “How does a working-class guy from Glasgow end up working for a foreign royal by the way?”
“How does a gypsy go so long without racking up a criminal record?”
My blood ran cold. Exactly how much had they been able to find out about me, and my dad, just by looking at public records?
“Traveler. Not gypsy, you ignorant—”
“Different complexion, same filth. Your da end up in America fleeing prosecution, did he?”
“At least I know who my father is. Does your mom even know?”
I saw his arm flex, the clear restraint from smacking the shit out of me straining the still-wet fabric of his shirt.
“That’s okay I can find out for myself.” I bounced off the bed, but before I could take a step, there was a gun in my face.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch me,” he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
This wasn’t the dart gun. It was a 45.
My breath caught in my throat, but I refused to let him see my fear. “He’ll be mad if you shoot me.”
“He’ll be mad when he realizes what you actually are. And when he does, it’ll be my pleasure to be rid of you in whatever way he deems most appropriate. Got that, Darkling?”
I swallowed hard, staring into his eyes. “I understand.”
“Good.” He lowered the gun slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Now stay in here and think about what’s best for you.”
With that, Callum turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I heard the click of the lock, sealing me inside. I collapsed onto the bed, my heart still pounding like a drum in my chest.
They had my phone. They made it clear even if I killed both of them, I’d find no shelter on shore.
The only way to get home was to let them turn me into an assassin.