Page 19 of Warlord’s Empire

“Of course,” he said, waving her toward a set of stairs leading to the second floor of the house. Its sprawling size reminded her of the Koba manor, but the similarities ended there. Radik’s house was much more rustic with exposed wood floors and light filtering throughout from the many windows. It felt so much more homey.

On the second floor, he opened the door to a room revealing a paradise that had her both gasping in shock and spinning in circles to take everything in, which was saying something considering the vast wealth she had been born into.

The single room was easily the size of her entire apartment in Prague. The walls were wall-papered in gold hues with blue trimming. There was matching gold furniture including a wardrobe, fainting couch, ornate table and chair set, and four-poster bed with sheer blue hangings that fluttered in the breeze coming in through open French balcony doors. A huge bookshelf sat against one wall, filled with books. She wandered toward a gold screen, artfully folded to shelter part of the room. While furnished elegantly, nothing was unnecessary or over the top, except… “Is that a pool?”

Radik chuckled. “I know how much you love bathing. I had the best bathtub I could find brought in for your pleasure. It took several of my people several days to haul it in from the capital.”

Wow. He knew of her preference for bathing and had gone all out in getting one here. He cared enough to give her the extreme version of a bathtub. Her emotions went on a wild ride for several long seconds – shock, awe, wonder, fear – before settling on numb.

“Where’s your room?” A tiny part of her hoped he would say this was his room too, but she knew it wasn’t. Though not overtly feminine, it was definitely designed with a woman in mind.

Radik strode to a connecting door that was nearly invisible, having been decorated with the same wallpaper as the rest of the room, and opened it, revealing another room. Stepping through, she was hit with a wave of Radik’s scent.

The room wasn’t as large as hers and it was extremely spare, with very few pieces of furniture. A utilitarian bed, smaller than the one next door, a basic wardrobe, and a single chair. The walls were bare wood with no artwork to relieve them.

What kind of a man would create the Shangri-La next door while subjecting himself to about as much comfort as a prison cell? There wasn’t even a nightstand. Where did he charge his phone?

She approached the bed, running her hand over the thin blue blanket before wandering to the French doors and looking out. “You’re a strange man, Muhammed.”

She could feel the heat of his body as he came to stand beside her. “I won’t seem so strange once you get to know me.”

“What if I don’t want to get to know you?” She turned, looking into his dark bottomless gaze. “What if I want to go home?” And she did. The longing was strong within her. She was in a strange land, surrounded by things she didn’t recognize, languages she barely knew, brought here by a man who said they belonged together.

“This is your home.” His voice was quiet but firm.

“This isn’t my home and you insisting it is doesn’t make it so. I have no connection to this place and I’ve never lived here. One must live in a place first before they can consider it home.”

He dipped his head, acknowledging her words. “You are correct that this isn’t home yet, but it will be soon.”

As attracted as she was to him, she felt in over her head. “I want to go home, Radik.” Her lips trembled as she held his gaze. “Please.”

A flash of regret lit his eyes before he shuttered it. He touched his thumb to her lips, pressing until they stopped shaking. “I won’t let you go.”

Tears rushed to her eyes and she turned away from him.

He stepped toward her, so close, the heat of his chest seared her, but he didn’t touch her. “In time, you’ll accept your place here.”

She swallowed and blinked rapidly, speaking only once she knew her voice was under control. “I want to be alone.”

Without looking at him, she went back to her own room, closing the door behind her. There was a bolt so she locked it too, though she was certain Radik would have a key.

She leaned against the door, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. She couldn’t stop the flow of tears as they seeped from beneath her eyelashes, wetting her cheeks.

Why was she crying? Wasn’t this what she wanted? Well, not this exactly, but she wanted Radik. She had for a long time; since their first meeting. She’d had fantasies of seeing him again.

In Paris perhaps, when she was in the city for a function, translating on behalf of her boss. They would attend a masquerade, each not knowing the other was there. She would be in a gold and blue ballgown, her two favourite colours, her hair in an elegant pile on her head, a gold mask obscuring her face. But Radik, wearing a crisp, classic tuxedo, would know it was her. He’d drop his golden mask and approach, his finger brushing her cheek as he forced her to reveal herself to him. Then he would sweep her onto the dance floor before whisking her away from the ball and out for an evening in Paris.

She laughed bitterly at the naive, youthful fantasy, weaved by a child who should have known better. Radik was a warlord, a mercenary, and he was raising an army of loyal soldiers. Her current predicament was so far from fantasy it was laughable.

Her eyes flew open at the sound of a throat clearing. “My apologies for interrupting, Ms. Koba.” It was Nikka, the young woman she met downstairs.

“Please go away,” Saskia said, sharper than she intended, swiping the wetness from her cheeks.

“Of course, of course,” Nikka said, pulling something from her pocket and rushing to hand it to Saskia who took it automatically. “I was instructed to give this to you. So sorry for the intrusion.”

It was her phone. “It’s… it’s okay, I didn’t mean…” Saskia stared at the phone wondering if it was a mistake. Why was Radik giving her access to her phone after he’d refused just a few hours earlier? He wasn’t stupid. He had to know she would use it to try to leave. To Nikka, she said, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m sort of having a bad day.”

Nikka smiled sympathetically. “I understand. I’ll leave you alone to get some rest.” She nodded at the phone. “I put my number in your contacts. Call or text if you need anything at all. I’ll come back in a few hours to fetch you for supper.”