The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2) by Danielle Bourdon Page B

“This is true. But no. I'll have you with all your senses intact.”
    He arched his brows.
    Sessily realized how her comment sounded and quirked a smile. Men. They were all the same. “What will we do until then?”
    “What would you like to do?”
    “Have a tour of your home.” She was impatient to see all the things there were to see.
    “Then you'll have a tour of my home. We can have lunch and swim or whatever you like after that.” Straightening, he pushed a hand through his hair. “If this room suits, it's yours. I have a few calls to make, so when you're done unpacking, come downstairs.”
    Sessily led the way inside and closed the balcony doors behind them. Someone, one of the staff, had left her suitcase against the inner wall. “It won't take me long.”
    “I didn't think it would. If you need anything, use that phone by the bed and dial one. Someone will pick up.”
    “I will. I'll see you in a little while.” Sessily watched the way he grazed her body with his eyes, then departed without another word. Even here in his home, when she would have expected the larger-than-life aura to dissipate, Ahsan still carried it with him. His natural charisma and enigmatic charm lingered long after he was gone, distracting her from the chore of unpacking someone else's clothes.
    Suffering a reality check as she hung up the tops and slacks, Sessily refused to allow anything to ruin her mood. Ahsan might pick up on her melancholy or fear and question her about it as he was wont to.
    Just as she finished the task and stowed the suitcase in the closet, the cell phone in her pocket vibrated. She'd turned the ringer off so that she didn't get an uncomfortable call at an inappropriate time. Fishing it out, she checked for a message.
    What she got instead of a message was a picture. Just a picture, no words needed.
    Iris sat in a metal chair, in a gloomy, dingy looking room, hands bound in her lap. Someone just out of camera range was the center of her terrified attention, eyes wide and fixed. Were those faint bruises on her cheek, or just a trick of light and shadow?
    Sessily's heart flipped over. “That bastard.”
    Instantly furious and frightened for her sister at the same time, she pulled up Bashir's contact number and had half a message typed out before she stopped. What good would useless threats do? Probably get Iris beaten. Maybe get both of them killed. Bashir could hire someone else to do what he was blackmailing her to do. They were expendable, tools to be used and discarded at will.
    What had she been thinking, laughing and playing with the Sheikh? Had she forgotten he was this monster's brother? Iris was in pain, scared out of her mind, and here she was, making plans to ride and have lunch and swim.
    Humbled, she deleted the message and slid the phone into her pocket again.
    She had a mission, and that's all she would concentrate on from here forward.
     
    . . .
     
    There it was again. That something. Ahsan regarded Sessily when she wasn't watching, taking note of her downturned mouth, the somewhat somber look in her eyes. This wasn't the same woman he'd left upstairs two hours ago. During the tour and lunch, she'd mumbled through her appreciation of his home and the food, picking at the meal rather than really eating it. Several times he'd started to ask what was wrong, because something was obviously very wrong, and stopped before the words hit the air. What could have happened in the short time he'd left her in her room and her reappearance downstairs? Maybe she was one of those moody women, happy and jovial one second, morose and self-destructive the next.
    He hoped not.
    Standing at the bottom of the staircase, he said, “I had someone put a few swimsuits in your suite. We keep extra clothing here in case my guests forget something.” It was a long, long drive to the nearest store. He'd learned to be prepared for any eventuality.
    “Would you be offended if we skipped the swim and went to the stables