Page 47 of Warlord’s Empire

Saskia rushed to the basement with her bodyguard leading the way.

“Hurry,” Nikka said, holding the door to the saferoom open. “Nonna’s already inside.”

As Shola was about to close the door, locking Saskia, Nikka and Nonna in the saferoom, Saskia thrust an arm out, blocking her. “Go to him, Shola. Promise me you’ll protect him.”

Shola shook her head. “No, I stay here, guarding the door to this room.”

Shola had one job; protect Saskia. Not Radik, not anyone else, just Saskia. But Saskia didn’t agree with such a short job description, and she had a good eye for talent, having grown up surrounded by security staff. She knew Shola was likely the most skilled fighter in the compound. She shouldn’t be sidelined if there was a fight.

Saskia was about to find out the extent of her authority in Radik’s house. “You will go to him, that’s an order.”

Again, Shola shook her head, but she looked torn, glancing toward the stairs. She was a woman of action; she wanted to join the battle.

“Go!” Saskia strode to the desk and pulled the gun out. She checked the chamber and cocked the gun. “We’ll be fine.”

Shola gave her a tight half smile. “Don’t shoot any friendlies.” Just before slamming the door shut on Saskia, she added, “I want you to remember this. By following your orders, my loyalty lies with you.”

Saskia hadn’t thought of it that way and opened her mouth to thank Shola for her loyalty, but the door slammed in her face. Shola was not into touchy feely sentiments.

Saskia barely had time to settle into the chair, turning on the security monitors before the security panel next to the door beeped, indicating someone was opening the door from the outside. “Get behind me,” she ordered Nonna and Nikka before snatching up her gun and aiming it at the door.

“Look!” Nikka pointed at the monitors.

A glance at the feed showed Radik on the other side of the door.

Saskia set the gun down, a relieved smile on her lips as she turned to greet him. “We’re not under attack.”

“We’re not,” he agreed as he stepped into the room. “It was a weapons accident, only minor injuries reported.”

“I should go see if they need help.” Nonna slipped past them. “Nikka, run and grab my first aid kit from the kitchen.”

Saskia frowned at Radik. “Children live here. Weapons accidents can’t happen in a place where children live. You need to look into it and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” As she walked past Radik to leave the saferoom, he gripped her arm and swung her around to face him, caging her against the concrete wall.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her.

“You gave Shola an order she should not have complied with and now you’re giving me an order,” he said, his voice husky. “Who do you think you are?”

She could see the teasing twinkle to his eyes, despite the seriousness of his tone. “Play your cards right, and I’ll be mistress of this place. Then you’ll all have to take my orders.”

He swooped in for a kiss, his lips taking hers with an aggression that had her head spinning. It was their third kiss and god, it just kept getting better. His tongue delved into her mouth, taking it by storm, sweeping her away on a giddy wave of pure pleasure.

When he pulled back, she clung to him, winding her arms around his neck and pulling his head down. “Stay with me,” she breathed, pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth, then down to his jaw where she explored the sandpapery skin.

A groan started deep in his chest, rumbling against her.

“Muhammed,” she whispered, closing her eyes as he explored her neck, his hand on one side of her head, anchoring her for his exploration.

“Not here,” he said in her ear and she nodded.

Darting under his arm, she rushed toward the stairs. “Bedroom!”

They thundered up to the second floor with the grace of a herd of stampeding elephants. Thank goodness they were alone in the house.

Saskia rushed into her room, spinning around as Radik booted the door shut. His gaze was predatory, every muscle in his body rigid. She thought he would rush her, even held her arms out in anticipation, but he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them. The fire she’d ignited in the basement was still there, but he was ruthlessly controlling it.

She was about to ask him what was wrong, but he spoke first. “You don’t have to do this.” His voice was guttural, almost mournful.

She blinked, then realized what he was saying. He was giving her a chance to reject him, to decide without him touching her, fulfilling his no-rape promise.