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Why was he doing this? He knew I could walk on my own, that I didn’t need help to get on and off an elevator.
I dropped my head, trying to conceal my blush. His hand slid down my forearm and his fingers wove through mine. I followed him down the hallway, aware of every step.
I needed to say something. The silence was deafening.
“Are you going to have an arranged marriage?” I blurted out.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I’d prefer not to. I’ve done my best to cultivate my image so I don’t have to.”
“What does that mean?”
We paused before room 759. There was a group of men in suits walking past us and as they drew near, Duran shifted subtly between me and them and they curbed their wandering eyes. I stared after them as he took out his key card.
It felt incredibly nice to be protected.
“I’m not serious like Lucien,” he said. “I’m nothing more than a playboy, a fuck-up, the kind of man the tabloids like to write about, but no one really thinks about. I’m not a serious person.”
I gaped. “But…you are.”
“Between you and me, Iris.” He swiped his card and the door flashed green. “I manage an enormous amount of money. I negotiate with some of the world’s most powerful players. But who the fuck would expect that? And who needs to know?”
“You…make it seem like you’re just…fucking around,” I whispered. “Why?”
The door swung open. He pocketed his key card.
“So I get left the fuck alone,” he said. “So I don’t have to damn some poor girl to a life of being married to a man who runs guns and drugs and kills an entire room of men and thinks nothing of it.”
He strode into the room and I followed him, pushing the door shut. We were in a luxurious suite overlooking the ocean with the city glittering along the shore. The bed was set against the far wall and made up in thin cotton sheets and a fluffy comforter, pillows stacked high against the wall. The floor was thinly carpeted and there was a mini kitchenette in the corner. The door to the bathroom was ajar and I could see a large tub set into the ground.
“This is nice,” I said, feeling awkward after his admission.
He cocked his head. “Did I unsettle you, princess?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to actually have a conscience.”
He laughed all the way to the bathroom. I scowled at the shut door and sank onto the edge of the bed. Someone knocked on the door and I went to retrieve our bags and pushed them into the corner. There was a mirror by the kitchenette.
I paused, noticing I was a little curvier now than before the island.
I looked good. My hair needed washed and my makeup was smudged. But my tits looked great and my ass had gotten bigger since I’d been kidnapped. I wriggled my hips to watch it shake. He had fed me well since kidnapping me.
He stepped out of the bathroom, showered. His dark hair was wet and slicked back.
My eyes moved over him, unashamed. He had the filthy rich, organized criminal look down.
“You know, we never finished having a drink together,” he said, rolling his sleeves to the middle of his forearms. “Put something pretty on. I’ll take you down to the hotel bar and buy you whatever you want.”
My body froze and my mind went blank.
What was he doing? Did he even know what he was doing?
I swallowed. “Why?” I asked hoarsely.
He moved close until I had to tilt my head back to look into his face. One hand came up and brushed my hair back. He smelled so good it was making my stomach glow warm and my toes curl.
“Do you think I’d let you suck me off and not buy you a drink?” he said, his voice soft.
Not a single intelligent brain cell in my head chimed in.
