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Before I could enjoy her pleasure again, I’d have to get through what came next. I put plans into action and got on my bike. Even flowing through the streets like a dream on my Harley didn’t put my thoughts at ease. I knew something with Eliza was wrong.
After I got off my bike, I checked the toys I’d brought to play with, then I went into my club and entered my office. I found I wasn’t alone. A man was seated behind my desk as if he owned the place.
He tapped steepled fingers. “The man of the hour.”
I stood there with a bored expression. He was waiting for me to ask something, like why he was there or why he was sitting behind my desk. But I already had those answers.
In the garage, in a secure hidden room, I’d checked the security cameras and spotted the trio. The kingpin of Dubai had arrived. He wasn’t unexpected. His daughter had come to the club.
With him, he’d brought two guys who looked like linemen on a professional football team. One was just a brute, all size but no muscle, with a head of shaggy hair and a beard. The other was built more like a bodybuilder. He had size, more muscle than fat, and was cleanly bald, though he looked younger than the other.
“You’re here about Sara,” I said, pronouncing her name the American way.
A flash of surprise widened his eyes a second before he schooled his features. “Very good, Mr. Black. I see you’ve done your homework.”
Mr. Black was my name in the underground world I operated in. Having anyone know me as the son of Royce King wouldn’t do me any favors. Lucky for me, I’d gone to boarding school and my father had done a good job of keeping my pictures out of the media, so everyone in this world believed that to be my name.
“I have, as I’m sure you have as well,” I said, remaining just a step inside the door.
The kingpin’s goons were in my line of sight—as was Eliza. She stood near the desk, at an angle where she could see him, his men, and me.
Mr. Haddad leaned back in my chair. “As you can imagine, my little girl, my only daughter, is a princess to me.”
Hearing that word only reminded me of the blonde and what I couldn’t have if I didn’t survive this.
“And what do I find out? That’s she’s not at the college dorm I pay for, but she’s here.”
He glanced at his guards and I wasn’t sure they knew what kind of club I operated. It wasn’t like I advertised.
“We’re a private club,” I began.
He waved at the two beefy men he brought with him. “Leave us.”
I held back a smirk as the two guys muttered, “Yes, boss.”
They had to wait a second before I decided to move, letting them exit. I wanted them to know I wasn’t afraid. They were big, but I wasn’t unarmed.
“You too,” he demanded of Eliza.
She didn’t move except to face me. I nodded. When the door closed behind her, I eyed Haddad.
“I know what you do,” he said.
“I cater to a clientele with specific wants and desires. There’s no shame in that, especially in a safe environment.”
“Safe,” Haddad barked, jumping to his feet.
The only reaction he got from me was a lift of a single brow. Long moments later, I said, “Yes. Safe.”
“I sent her to New York to get her away from men who would use her to get to me.”
I was well aware of the strict rules pertaining to women in places like Dubai. Progressive on the surface, but highly traditional when it came to customs that dated as far back as biblical times.
“Which is why I protected your daughter.” I nodded toward my computer. “I can show you.”
The man hadn’t let his guards leave without having some sort of backup. Mine was tucked in my jeans, behind my back. So when he gave a sharp bob of his head, I took the laptop from my desk without giving him a view of my back.
When the video was cued up, I set the laptop to face him. Without seeing my screen, I knew what he saw. I’d already saved in a specific folder for this very situation—as I did with any high-risk member. Haddad watched. Faintly, I heard myself speaking as I stood on stage before giving Sara that publicized spanking.
The video was a risk. From his perspective, he could see me violating his daughter, or he could see how she’d been protected at every stage. All the way to Griffin bringing her to my office and laying her unmolested on the sofa the goons had stood in front of. I’d made sure Griffin’s face couldn’t be seen, and with a little bit of editing magic, the film skipped past the conversation she had with Griffin and went to where she’d been put into a cab an hour later, her father none the wiser that there was missing footage.
