She frowned. “What about Gerard?”
“Who?”
“Her…driver-who-is-more. If he’s not safe, then she’s not safe.” She shrugged, feeling a little awkward at mentioning him. “I think there’s something between them, though they tried to hide it while I was with them in London.”
A look of consternation tangled the strong ridge above those blue eyes. “I hope Navas doesn’t find out.”
She gave him a speculative look and sniffed. “Navas walked out on her before I was even born, so he doesn’t get a vote.”
Apollo cleared his throat. “And circling back to the question…”
“No.” Leighton pushed around him and headed to the house.
“Uh, is that no to the first question or the second?”
She didn’t slow, didn’t answer, because she honestly wasn’t sure which question she’d answered. But she could not fathom altering the entire course of her life because one man said Ummi was safe.
If there had ever been a trap, this was it.
7
Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
The girl had some serious attitude. But beneath it lay a tanker of insecurity and fear, screaming and writhing as he sat with her in the bedchamber that night.
“Don’t you have something to do?” she asked after dinner.
“I’m doing it,” he answered calmly. If he’d been addicted to his phone like a lot of Scions, he might be twitching uncontrollably after hours without any means to doomscroll. But military life had taught him to make the most of silence and solitude. Now he found it grounding.
“Aren’t you going to your own room?”
He hesitated, sloughed his hands together. Had nobody explained the situation to her? “I…” He exhaled heavily. “They told me to stay here. ”
She stared at him blankly. “What?”
“I’m staying. In here, this room,” he clarified with a cockeyed nod. “They said all rooms are full because of the wedding.”
“Here?” she balked. “In my room?” Her gaze wandered to the lone bed. “There’s only one. No way?—”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking. Relax.”
“Relax? You know what they could do to me, to us?—”
“I do,” he conceded, “and I think that’s their hope—to corrupt you so the king will want to get rid of you, or maybe get rid of me. Which would probably make you happy.”
Leighton faltered, her expression flickering as if she wasn’t sure what to think or say. She rubbed her forehead and wandered to the bay-window seat. “Look, I may not want you here, but I am not coldhearted.” She picked up a throw pillow. “I don’t want you dead.”
“Glad you clarified that.”
She grimaced, then huffed. “But you can’t sleep in here.”
“Don’t plan to.” Truth be told, he’d already decided to crash in the hall, directly in front of her door. Much as Uriah the Hittite had done after being pulled from battle when King David wanted to hide his sin with Bathsheba. Because Owen had a gut instinct that said staying in the room through the night would have dire consequences and play into whatever bizarre intentions the royals had for her. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”
The nod she gave was slight, wary. For a long, uncertain moment, she studied him before turning and looking out the window. As if she wanted to say something, but with the belief of listening devices or hidden cameras, they had to tread carefully.
He wouldn’t lie—this was a surprise, her rejecting him and his efforts. Hadn’t expected that. Wasn’t really sure he understood wanting to stay here.
No…
