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So the interruption, and so early, of a knock at his front door, brought a stern frown to his face. He stalked across the suite, aware that he was at risk of losing his temper at one of his agents.
He yanked the door inwards, and focussed his steely gaze on the short dark haired staff member beyond. “Yes?” Imperious and impatient, he glared down at the man.
“I am sorry to bother you, sir, but there is someone to see you.” The guard’s eyes flicked sideways, as if looking for snooping reporters. He leaned forward by a minuscule amount. “It is a woman.”
Layth’s brows raised. He refused to jump to conclusions. “Yes?”
“I was not sure if I should … It is early, and I obviously did not want to …”
“What is her name?” Layth interrupted swiftly.
“Yes, sir. Cassandra Walton, sir.”
Walton. He smiled at the little bit of information one of his guards had managed to snoop out.
“Shall I bring her up?”
Layth looked at him quietly. The temptation to deny her was strong. After all, she’d denied him. But other needs were supreme. “Yes. Immediately. Have my diary cleared for the day.”
“But sir, you have …”
“I don’t care if I’m having tea with the Queen of England herself; you will cancel it. And do not question me again.”
The guard was stricken, and Layth, if he was another man, might have fe
lt a sense of compunction. He didn’t though. He walked back into the apartment and waited.
The guard summoned her and Cassie stood immediately. Another two men moved to flank her on either side and the sight of their guns added a new sense of nervousness to her already overwrought body. The lift sailed upwards, giving her no option but to go with it.
Had it been a mistake to come to him? Was she going to regret this?
The doors pinged open and her gaze landed on him immediately. He was standing across the room, watchful and silent. His eyes were cold as they collided with hers. The two guards stepped when she stepped, and would have moved with her the entire way to Layth except that he stalled them with a single gesture of his hand. It was effective in dismissing them; as if by magic they began to silently retreat.
Cassie waited until she heard the doors click shut and then exhaled. “Nice friends you’ve got.”
His lip lifted in acknowledgement of her comment.
She’d changed. The sexy dress she’d been wearing the night before was gone. He had imagined her always in sky-high heels and tight, revealing outfits, but today she was wearing a pair of fitted black pants, ballet slippers and a floaty shirt with a floral print. Her blonde hair was loose and hung half way down her back. She looked delicate and lovely.
But none of that penetrated the fog of realisation. She had changed. Had she gone home with the insipid looking man from the bar? Had she slept with him? Layth had no reason to doubt it. Not after the speed with which she’d come to him.
He stayed perfectly still, even when she moved to stand just in front of him. So close he could smell her soft, sweet fragrance.
“What are you doing here?” He asked finally, his accent thicker than usual.
Her throat worked overtime as she swallowed anxiously. “Good question.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, a gesture that both fascinated and infuriated him.
He stayed silent, waiting for her to answer.
“You asked me here.”
He lifted one brow, his expression dark. “Yes. Last night I asked you here.”
More swallowing. Her face showed pain and confusion before she stamped it out. “I didn’t realise the invitation had an expiration. I can go, if you want.”
Her pride, the pride she’d tried to protect the night before, was being battered.
He studied her face, his black eyes seeking answers in her features. Answers to which she did not know the question. “Have you come to me from him?”
