Talha laughed, listening to the small arrogant woman. He could break her neck with one hand, yet she dared to talk to him like this, to propose such a thing. “You, western girls, are born with balls, aren’t you? Maybe because your men don’t have them?”
“Maybe.” Smiling, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “So instead of a year of privileges, I offer you a lifetime of power.” Reading his face, she added, “Don’t worry, it’s just business. I’m not going to be a jealous wife. You’ll have to remain faithful to me until I’m pregnant. You have to indulge me—I don’t share a cock. After this, you are free to do whatever you want, so do I. Of course, it will all be written in a contract.”
Curious, Talha flicked a hand in the air, asking her to elaborate. If a man had dared to talk to him like this, he would have already broken his neck, but this little lady provided entertainment.
“The one, who owns London, owns the heart of Europe. As the new leader of the Hale family, you will have limitless power, but I want something back. I want to retain my position. I decide what is good for the family here, but you can have the title like my father does now. Of course, I won’t interfere with your business in Anatolia. You can use our resources as you please, as long as you don’t cross my plans. And as a wedding gift, I want Iblīs[1].”
“Your head is in the clouds, Minik kuş[2].” Talha chuckled.
“This is a good deal, Talha. You are the first man I’m offering it to.” Her smile grew bigger. “If you refuse, I’ll keep my father’s word and grant you one year, as we agreed. But soon enough, I will find someone else, and then London will be closed to you forever. I chose you because people respect and follow you, even the Devil himself. And you are handsome, so I don’t have to retch every time we fuck. On the contrary, I look forward to it.”
Unable to hold back, Talha laughed. The more he listened to the small woman talk, the more his mood improved.
“You are cute, Minik kuş. I like you,” he said; his hand caressed her shoulder. “So here is what you’re gonna get. I’ll marry you, and I’ll support you, but my surname stays with me. You can keep yours if you wish, but if you bear a son, he will be Demir, not Hale. My surname comes first. If you need a pushover, you can find a western man with no balls. And you can’t have Iblīs. No offense, Minik kuş, but he will not follow you.”
Her face didn’t change, as if she expected this answer, and his respect for her increased.
“He will if you order him to. Everybody knows he follows your every word.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes steely, cold. “I want him to be loyal to me too. I want him to treat my enemies as his own. I want him to protect me, if not as his Mistress then as your wife. Order him to do this or it’s no deal.”
“You don’t know what you are asking for.” Talha’s smile fell as he examined her serious face. “If you play with the Devil you always have to pay. You will come to regret it, but it will be too late. No one controls Iblīs.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said, tensing under his touch.
“If you’re scared, I’ll provide you with loyal people; people who will die for you. You’ll be safe.” Noticing the hard line of her mouth, Talha decided that this deal wasn’t about her needing his support. She didn’t care about the Hale name either. All she wanted was Iblīs. “Who are you scared of, Minik kuş?”
“I’m scared of no one. I want him to ensure my power. Iblīs, or no deal,” she pushed the words through gritted teeth, never looking away.
“Fine… I’ll take what you are offering, but you will regret it, Minik kuş.” Raising his open palm in the air, Talha gave up.
“We will see. Invite me to dinner to close the deal.”
THE BURN PULSED AND STUNG under his finger pads. The bandage his master had applied was gone, and the crimson blemish glistened with lymph, indicating his body’s attempt to repair the damage. He shouldn’t be rubbing it, but he couldn’t help brushing his thumb over the red, damaged area, reanimating Talha’s incandescent touch in his memory.
Standing in the middle of the airport, he stared at the departure board. Boarding to his flight had been announced, but his legs refused to move. Something itched in his chest as if an important piece of his body was missing. The empty space gnawed at his other organs, looking for a substitute.
“I wish Master was here.” He dropped his gaze to his ticket. “I don’t want to go alone…”
‘If you’re good, I’ll reward you.’ Talha’s words replayed in his mind. The invisible clamps of loneliness squeezed his heart as he remembered the rest. ‘But if you’re bad, you’ll never have freedom again, you understand?’
He tilted his head to the side.
“I don’t want freedom. I want to see Master…” His fingers unclenched, dropping the ticket to the gray carpet. With the decision made, the invisible weight, that had crushed him the whole day, lifted from his chest. Stepping on the ticket, he strolled toward an airline counter.
A STRONG AIR CURRENT HIT HIS FACE, stirring his hair and welcoming him into the darkness of the suite. Ghosting through the shadows, Slater stalked toward a wall-size window; his gaze stumbled at the panoramic view across London that sprawled under the dark, cloudless sky. The bright moon reflected in the black waters of the Thames. Its bluish light leaking through the window illuminated the room’s luxurious atmosphere. Slater couldn’t help noticing that water still bubbled in the Jacuzzi, and two wine glasses guarded the rim.
Something twitched in his guts, awakening an unfamiliar, burning sensation that resembled irritation. Mixed with longing, it poisoned his blood. His jaw hurt with tension as he bypassed a fireplace and a low marble table on his walk to the bedroom.
The acrid stench of sex and a woman’s perfume slammed against his face as soon as his foot crossed the threshold. Flinching back, he tugged his shirt over his nose. All his being rebelled, screaming at him to get out of the bedroom, but the insurmountable tug of gravity inched him forward. Lurking in the shadows of a closet, he edged to the bed.
The dead light of the moon silvered the crumpled, messy linens and played with the platinum hair of a woman sprawled across the bed. A pale, dead-like hand, so slender that any strong wind could break it, twined around Talha’s tanned torso.
“Is that so, Master…” A muscle under Slater’s eye twitched as a bitter taste flooded his mouth. The spring in his body tightened, vibrating with pressure. The barely audible sound it emitted penetrated his ears. He couldn’t understand what caused the discomfort, but the tightness in his chest only aggravated.
His gaze darted all over the scene until returning to the arm, long fingers, and polished nails that sharply contrasted with Talha’s dark body.
The hand doesn’t belong…
Twirling on his heels, he stormed out of the room.
“YOU’VE BEEN GOOD,” Talha murmured and wrapped his arms around Slater’s torso. The clean, heady scent filling his lungs, he dug his face in the ripper’s soft, short hair. The strong muscles tensed under his touch. Even through the black hoodie, Talha could outline the relief of his rippled stomach.