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“I... Yes,” said Cairo.
“Riyaz was talking to me a little bit about your childhood. About your connection with her.”
“I didn’t realize he noticed.”
“I think he was jealous,” she said.
“Really?”
“Of her. Not of you. He said you were always his best friend until she came to visit.”
“That’s not how I remember it. I remember him being very busy with matters of the state.”
“Well, maybe that’s something you should talk to him about.”
There was a slight pause. “You seem to get a lot out of him. Considering you’ve made it sound as if he’s barely civilized.”
“Heisonly barely civilized,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him. You can. He likes to talk. When you think about it, it makes sense. He hasn’t had anyone to talk to for quite some time.”
“I guess not. But then... I’m not sure I have either.”
Well, you had me.
But she didn’t say that.
“I’ll keep you posted. I haven’t seen him today. I think he’s gone back to the dungeon. Regression is somewhat expected. Two steps forward, one step back.”
It was expected, but she didn’t like it. And she was trying to figure out a way to... To fix it. But she was still turning over everything that had happened. The way it had made her feel. She wasn’t afraid of him. That was the thing.
If anything, she was afraid of herself.
She hung up the phone, and took a sharp breath. If Riyaz was down in the dungeon. Then she would meet him there. And she wasn’t going to let fear stop her.
She traversed the corridor, and took the spiral staircase down to the dungeon.
She had a blanket. And her tablet. And she had a feeling that what she was doing was possibly foolish. She also had his stack of books.
A picnic basket with food.
When she got down there, she heard a noise. Movement. Masculine grunting.
She froze for a moment, but then continued to walk forward. She went into the cell, but she didn’t see him.
Then she continued deeper, and stopped. He was hanging, suspended from a bar at the middle of the low-ceilinged room.
Pulling himself up, then dropping slowly, exhibiting an intense amount of control.
He had taken his shirt off, and was wearing only a pair of black shorts. She was struck absolutely motionless by the sight of all those muscles at play.
He was a work of art. He transcended the strength of any normal human man.
The dark hair on his chest captured her attention, as did the ripple of his muscles.
And she felt something shamefully feminine begin to rise up inside of her. Need. Desire.
What was wrong with her? She was supposed to be helping him. She was... She was supposed to be in love with Cairo. Was she simply transferring her affection because she was near his brother?
She looked at Riyaz, at the way his dark hair fell into his face, and his animalistic movements.
