by SE Reign
These are the kind of people I’m used to dealing with, not the kind that go to museums and galas. My law office took many pro bono cases from the families in the neighborhood unable to afford help otherwise. Many were mom and pop shops struggling with building owners squeezing them for more money and families barely scraping by.
“Do you want to see our kitties?” the seven-year-old asks me, as she all but drags me up the stairs.
“Dinah!” her mother chides. “The future queen of Nijala does not play with stray cats!”
“They aren’t strays, mama! We gave them a home!”
“It’s okay!” I laugh. “I love animals.”
Her mother appears flustered, if not mortified, but the determined Dinah pulls me down a narrow hallway to a room she shares with one of her sister’s. It’s similar to where I grew up – in a rundown apartment probably not more than seven hundred square feet.
She releases me to drop to her knees and hauls a shoebox out from under the bed. In it are three kittens, somewhere around six or seven weeks old. Dinah picks them up with a child’s roughness and thrusts all three at me. I sit down on my knees and place the cranky kittens on my skirt. They’re mottled in color with different hues of eyes and tiny claws that find their way through my clothing to my legs.
“Papa says I can only keep one. You want to take care of one?” Dinah asks, her large, brown eyes solemn and serious. “I have to find the other two a home or he’ll throw them out.”
I have a weakness for people who need help and kids who think their worlds are ending when faced with a dilemma like this.
“I’ll have to ask Elijah,” I respond. “Do you want to pick one for me?” First night in the new place, and bringing home a pet. If Elijah says no, I can always take the cat to someone else who might be able to take care of it.
She smiles and looks over the three.
“Um, Miss Hanover?”
I turn to see the other two girls in the doorway, their cell phones in hand. The oldest of the three is talking.
“Will you take a pic with us?”
“Of course,” I say, smiling. I’ll never get used to the looks they’re giving me or the way people treat you when they think you’re special.
The two hurry into the room, one on either side of me, and both hold up their cameras. I grin big, happy to be with people I feel like I can relate to. They take the pics, then the seven-year-old almost squeals.
“What about me?” She sits on my lap and leans back to maneuver her way into the picture.
I laugh. The four of us cram into a couple of selfies before I’m assigned a kitten. Their mother comes for all of us, and we head down the hallway to the dining area off the living area.
Elijah doesn’t really seem comfortable, but he’s polite and speaking with Farid. He’s wearing his mask, this one a little friendlier, given the crowd. He catches my eye when I enter, and I hold up the cat with a cringing look.
He doesn’t bat an eyelash. “I see we have a new friend.”
Dinah is staring at him, too awed to speak, while the other two girls are hiding behind me.
“If you’re okay with it,” I reply. “New place, new kitten?”
“Consider it practice for the children,” Talia advises. “Go wash up, girls!”
Ouch. She has no idea how close that comment hits home. I didn’t think of it that way at all. I just didn’t want Dinah to be upset if I said no to helping a homeless cat.
“If you wish,” Elijah says diplomatically to me.
I’m not expecting his generous response. “Thank you.” I sit beside him, the kitten in my lap.
“I need to make a call,” he whispers to me. “Be back in a few.”
I nod, comfortable around the excited family and eager to see what Nijalan food is like. Elijah is gone a full half an hour before he returns, appearing less than pleased. I can’t ask him what’s wrong in public but smile from my spot on the floor, playing a card game with the girls.
The night with them passes quickly. I eat too much, laugh a lot and genuinely enjoy the evening. Before I know it, it’s nearly one in the morning, and the two youngest have dozed off. Elijah doesn’t warm much to the people he’s supposed to be the ruler of someday, so I do my best to make up for his coolness, suspecting he’s righter than I knew about our personalities complementing each other’s. He’s more distracted than usual, though, a sign his business call probably didn’t end in his favor.
When we leave after one, the press is still waiting. I’m cuddling the sleeping kitten in the crook of one elbow while holding Elijah’s hand. We don’t pause for pictures this time but I smile as we leave.
We get into the back of the car, and I sigh, snuggling up beside him.
“How often do you visit their restaurant?” I ask.
“First time.”
“What?” I lift my head, startled. “You’ve lived here for a few years, right?”
“Good photo op.”
“Oh.” Disappointed, I focus on petting my new kitten. He always does this. Makes me see him differently then reveals he’s just being himself again.
He glances down at me, and I can see he’s amused. “Well, I thought you’d appreciate this more than a swanky dinner at some expensive restaurant.”
“I do,” I agree. “Thank you, Elijah. They’re wonderful people.”
“God, I miss the food,” he says with a groan.
“Why didn’t you go sooner then?” I ask curiously. “Shouldn’t you get to know the people you’ll be governing?”
“It’s not how it’s historically been done in Nijala. There’s usually no interaction between the elite and the masses.”
“I’ve been reading about it online.”
“Nijala is an absolute monarchy ruled by a madman. The people have no voting rights. Sovereign King makes the decisions.” He appears pensive for a moment. “Not an issue I ever thought I’d have to deal with.”
“Meaning …”
“I love America. Living here has made me see that the historical way of doing things may not always be the right way.” He pauses.
I don’t expect him to say more; he rarely ever tells me what he’s really thinking.
“Malika wants me to help her change the governing of Nijala.” He sounds troubled. “Convert the country into a constitutional monarchy.”
“What do you think?” I ask, absolutely out of my element when it comes to advising someone on how to run a country.
“I think she’s probably right, but it’s probably not worth the effort.”
“How can you say that? If it’s the right thing to do, then why wouldn’t you do it?”
He gives me a long look. “It’s not quite that easy, farasha. I can’t snap my fingers and change everything.”
“Sometimes the things most worth doing aren’t meant to be easy,” I whisper. “Like relationships or changing a society. Working for things that are important to you is meant to make you appreciate them more and grow as a person.”
He’s listening intently. “What if you fail?”
“What if you don’t?” I reply. “You don’t go into something worrying about failing. You go in trying to make it succeed.”
Elijah cups my cheek with one hand and runs his thumb along my jawline. He kisses me lightly, gently on my cheek. “You’re right, farasha. I was never supposed to be king. My brother was the diplomat. He would’ve known how to handle this.”
“You can be a great king. You’re successful at everything you do, EJ,” I respond, surprised by the hint of self-doubt in his tone. My Elijah never doubts himself. Ever.
It’s also the first time he’s ever mentioned his brother to me. I suspect there’s more than one reason he doesn’t talk about anyone in his family. From what I found online, though, his brother was a model son and politician who married a Saudi princess a few months before his car accident.
“You care about the type of people I’m supposed to govern,” he says. “I wouldn’t know
how to relate to them without causing an international incident.”
“You can start with this little guy.” I place the cat in his lap. “Take it with you to work. Everyone loves a guy who loves animals.”
He grimaces but carefully picks up the kitten.
“You’re all about photo ops. Might soften your image,” I add.
“According to our publicist, you’re already doing that. You smile, and the world swoons.” The mocking note is back.
“It helps you, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” He sets the kitten down and balances it in his lap. “I’ve got to leave for a business trip in the morning. I’ll probably be gone for two or three days.”
I tense, forbidding myself from showing my emotions.
Sudden business trip. Just like the mystery texter said. The second sign Elijah is pulling away. A mistress, the texter claimed.
The texter has been right about far too much for me to feel comfortable thinking Elijah isn’t going to see another woman, even after our fight and talk this evening.
Did today scare him? Is he warming to me, offering to give us a shot, only to try to keep me distracted and happy while he returns to his old ways?
I’d like to say I can’t imagine that to be true, but well … I can.
Just enjoy tonight, Natty. I tell myself again.
“Okay, EJ,” I say quietly. “I hope it’s a good trip and you’re successful in whatever you do.”
“You don’t even ask where I’m going. You see the good in everyone, don’t you?” he asks, gazing at me intently. “Even me.”
“It’s my curse,” I reply with a sigh.
“Why curse?”
“Because you’re going to crush me before this is over, and I’ll let you.” I look away.
He says nothing. I’ve began to suspect how this all will end, and his silence seems to confirm it.
I take back my kitten, and we return to the new apartment in silence. Elijah’s security team leaves us when we get into the private elevator that takes us to my new, temporary home. I cuddle with Elijah, as always, even if I’m hurting. This whole situation makes me feel nauseated tonight, and I wonder if I ate too many spicy dishes at dinner. It takes a lot for me to feel sick.
Never had such a good reason.
We exit the elevator into the new place. I can tell someone has been there; there’s a vase of different colored lilies on the table in the foyer. The colorful blooms make me smile, their faint scent reaching me before I cross to them.
“Most of our clothing was scheduled to be here by now,” Elijah says, glancing at his phone. “Jamil says he left us snacks in the kitchen. Peanut butter raisin sandwiches?” He grimaces.
“My newfound favorite,” I explain. “Not sure why. Asked him for one the other day, and have been eating them since.”
“Funny. He doesn’t say anything about snacks for the man paying his salary.”
I hide a smile. Jamil has worked for him since he was a child, and I’ve won him over in a month. I want to tell Elijah that this is what happens when you’re respectful and nice but sense it’s not the right time.
“Come on, kitty,” I murmur and tuck the kitten under my arm. “I’ve got to find her somewhere to sleep.”
Elijah says nothing, and I walk through the spacious hallways to our master bedroom.
To my delight, there’s a pristine litter box, cat bed and other supplies sitting on the couch in the sitting area of our master suite.
“Look at that!” I tell the sleepy kitten. “A fridge can express emotions better than your daddy, but he got everything you need!”
“Fridge?” Elijah echoes.
I turn. I didn’t hear him follow me and flash an embarrassed smile before busying myself with the kitten’s new things. I set it down in its bed then put litter in the box and put it in my bathroom.
Elijah watches me, arms crossed and handsome features expressionless. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, and I don’t know if I really want to know right now. I’m a little raw, a little emotional after the car ride home.
“I asked Jamil to pick up supplies,” Elijah says.
“Thank you,” I say politely instead of telling him I’d already figured that out. “I’ll have company while you’re gone. Unless you want to take him to your meetings?”
He pushes himself away from the doorway and disappears down the hallway. His withdrawal leaves me feeling cold, uncertain.
Something’s going on with him. This isn’t a business trip. He doesn’t get weird about business meetings. So the mystery texter knows a thing or two about Elijah. I wish I could pretend Elijah really was going on a business trip and not leaving to meet up with some woman or drink the weekend away or whatever it is he’s planning. The idea he needs a break from me, from us, makes me think I never should’ve opened the can of worms I did earlier.
Then again, it had to be said. I don’t like the way he treats me at times, and two more months with him will be easier to get through, if he can learn a little bit about how to be respectful.
The kitten is soon curled in the corner of its new bed. I wait for it to fall asleep before realizing Elijah hasn’t returned. Normally, when we’re in the same place, he’s away from my side for all of ten seconds, if that. I didn’t realize how much I like that until I’m trying to figure out if I should go track him down or give him space.
I have problems leaving issues unresolved. Something is wrong, and he’s leaving for wherever tomorrow. I don’t want to spend the next few days anxious about what’s going on, so I pad down the hallway and search the apartment until I find him.
He’s in the study with his laptop in a plush, leather chair beside a gas fireplace whose dancing flames provide the only light in the room.
“EJ?” I pause in the doorway. “Am I disturbing you?”
“No.” He doesn’t close his laptop or look up.
I’m not getting a sense of warm welcome. I don’t like this. I’d settle for him feeling me up or leering at me – some sign we’re back in the comfort zone he established on day one.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Still no interest. He gets in these moods sometimes where I think I could be sitting in his lap, naked, and he wouldn’t notice.
Not sure what else to say, I go to the shelves of old books along one wall and breathe in their earthy, leathery scent. There’s no dust anywhere, and the stone shelves and dark wood flooring give the impression I’m standing in some ancient castle somewhere, looking through a great lord’s library.
The study is large enough for two work areas, a glass humidor in the corner, two gas fireplaces and small clumps of chairs. It’s the study of a working billionaire, luxurious and designed to be used.
I do one pass around then turn, surprised to see he’s seated on the couch, watching me. There’s a haunted look in his gaze, one I can’t explain. He’s been distant since the phone call he took. Something isn’t right.
He holds out his hand in silent command, and I go to him. Leaning forward, he slides his hands up my thighs to my underwear and tugs them off. I automatically lift my hands and put them above my head, my body beginning to hum with arousal. With his hands on my hips, he pulls me down onto the couch so that I’m straddling him. I sink onto his lap, turned on by the hard dick inside his pants that’s pressed to my bare clit.
Elijah nips at my breasts. “Let me see those titties,” he says. His hands are on my ass, holding me in place.
I pull off my shirt and bra then lean into him.
He guides my hips, rocking them against his crotch. I gasp at the rough brush of a zipper atop his dick. He takes one nipple into his hot mouth and swirls his tongue around it, nibbling and tugging.
Heat races through me at the sensations, and I lean my head back, my hands behind my back.
“You’re so wet,” he releases one nipple. “I want your pussy juices everywhere. In my mouth, on my dick, all over my clothing …” he drifts off, burying his face
between my breasts before he claims the other straining nipple.
He grinds me harder against his pants, and my whole body quivers with need.
“Elijah,” I breathe, needing him inside me instead of teasing me.
“You want me to fuck you?” he whispers.
“Yes!”
“Tell me,” he orders.
“Fuck me, master, please.” My voice trembles, but I don’t care. I can’t control the urge to feel his skin against mine, his dick in my depths.
Releasing me with one hand, he stretches to grab a dildo and penis sleeve off the table to the right of the couch.
“Open,” he orders.
I drop my jaw, and he places the rubbery sleeve in my mouth.
“You know what to do,” he says with a gleam in his gaze. Releasing me, he folds his hands behind his head and waits.
I shift to my knees and fumble with his pants. The button sticks, and my jittery hands take a minute before they can undo it, unzip then work his pants and boxers free. Desperate for him to fill my aching pussy, I kneel between his toned thighs, hands behind my back, and gently begin working the sleeve onto his dick with my mouth. The thick head tastes slightly salty.
“Good,” he says as I slide the sleeve down his shaft. “Suck me.”
I want to beg but don’t, knowing he won’t listen if I do. So I nibble on the head of his cock then take the whole of him into my mouth. I’m so wet for him, I’m dripping, and I can think of nothing more than pleasing him quickly, so he fucks me and puts me out of my misery.
“On your feet,” he says.
Surprised he doesn’t want me to finish him off, I stand obediently, body quivering with anticipation.
His eyes are on my pussy. “I need a taste,” he says and motions me forward. He lifts one leg and I brace it against the back of the couch behind him. Elijah grips my ass next and pulls my pussy against his face.
His hot, wicked tongue makes me moan as he laps up the juices ebbing from my pussy then plays with my clit. He presses me to his face harder, and I begin to ride him, needing to feel more, to sate the growing tension within me.
I feel the cold rubber of Little Blue slide into my cunt, and Elijah works it in and out a few times, the way he does when he’s preparing to push it up my ass. His tongue and teeth torment my clit.