Chapter 12

"Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Khan had a new piece of furniture installed into his study. It was another desk, smaller in width but just the right size to support a twelve by twelve inch white monitor. The vacant black screen reflected his silhouette as he took a seat in front of the desk. After a moment of hesitation he leaned over and pressed his index finger to the silver button at the bottom of the frame. The screen flashed to life revealing the interior of a room similar to his, in gray scale.

The camera was located at a high corner in the bedroom, focused on the sleeping area. Khan leaned back into his seat, with his gaze set steadily on the screen, he waited.

Two figures stepped into the space, Salim followed by a reluctant Arba. Khan stared down passively at the slimy, perverse grin that curved across his craggy face. The smile was directed at Arba. Her fingers were clenched into fists at her sides. They almost looked like they were shaking, but that could be a trick of light.

Salim moved to the side of his bed and then looked to her. Arba stood like a statue at the threshold of his bedroom. He barked an order that was mute to Khan's ears. After a moment of hesitation Arba obliged.

Her hands moved up to her midriff, she began to unfasten the gibbous brass buttons of her coat. Her movements weren't in the least bit seductive. They were forced, robotic, hardhearted. The red material pooled around her ankles, then her pants until she was standing in her white tank top and matching under pants.

Khan shifted in his seat, his pupils dilated behind a canvas of sea-blue. But the moment they fell on Salim and his perverse smile, his eyes narrowed to slits. He continued to watch with an unwavering stare.

Arba stepped forward like she was following a death march. Khan could see the reluctance in her like she carried it as a billboard sign on her shoulder, yet he felt no remorse, he could only observe.

She lied down on the bed, the mattress sunk under her weight. Her arms stiff at her sides, her fingers clenched into fists. Salim lurked in the corner like a dark ominous shadow. His weathered expression alive with lust.

He made his move.

He crept on to the bed on all fours until he was looming over her. Arba remained silent and caged under him. Khan had never seen her act so helpless, obedient. Salim leaned down and her face disappeared behind the back of his head.

A sudden sinking feeling hit the base of Khan's stomach but he pushed it aside. He wanted this to happen, to confirm his suspicions. So he continued to stare.

Salim began to move down her body. Arba had her eyes opened the entire time, staring up at the ceiling. Even as he kissed down her chest and pushed up her tank top. Even as his coarse hands mapped down her sides and gripped tightly at her shapely thighs.

She didn't move, she didn't speak. She continued to lie, silently.

Khan hoped that something would change when her hands were still fists at her sides, but then abruptly, they relaxed.

It was a sign of submission, one that Khan was disappointed to witness.

He rested his elbows on the edge of the desk and weaved his fingers together. He considered coming up with another plan. His intentions for Arba were fruitless. Maybe disposing them was the only way, and he thought he could be sly.

His iridescent gaze lingered on the frame for a moment longer. Salim was leaning over her again, whispering words that were no doubt crass and sadistic.

Khan reached out with the intention of shutting down the screen when the scene before suddenly took a drastic turn.

The movements were so fast that he almost missed it, but the outcome was unable to turn away from.

Arba had kicked Salim, swiftly off her body. The man went flying back and toppled over the edge of the bed and fell to the floor.

Khan mirrored Arba's expression of bewilderment.

She quickly scrambled up into a seated position, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was panting heavily like the simple action of kicking off the assailant went against every fiber of her being.

Khan stood up in a swiftness that rattled his desk. In several strides he was out of his chambers. He marched down the length of the corridor, passing exactly three doors until he arrived at a tall porcelain door similar to his. He didn't bother with polite knock or methodical turn of the door knob. He knew it was locked and the loud, coarse yelling he heard was enough incentive to kick open the door.

He crossed the foyer, turned left and yanked open the bedroom door. The frame slide to the side and stopped with a shattering bang, startling the two figures in the room.

Salim had Arba by her throat. His other arm was raised into the air, poised threateningly. Arba wasn't fighting; her arms were slackened at her sides. The left side of her face was smeared with blood from an open cut. The skin around her eye was swollen and a sickly yellow shade.

At the sound of his entrance, Salim and Arba both looked to the Augument. The Arab man froze up in dread, the fury in his face melting to one of shock. Despite her beaten state, she still squared her shoulders orderly.

"Arba." Khan commanded. "My room, now."

"Yes, sir." Her voice was alarmingly calm, but there was a twinkle of surprise in her one good eye. Salim released her instantly and she stepped off the edge of the bed and moved to pick up her disregarded clothes.

Khan kept his intense stare focused on the trembling half naked Salim.

Arba was dressed in her uniform again. Khan stepped aside granting her a path from the door to the exit. She hesitated for a moment before accepting his silent order and walked forward. She brushed past him. A sharp scent of sandalwood combined with a tang of citrus, distracted him for a moment. His gaze followed her to the exit to find Orlando and Susan lingering in the background.

They had heard the commotion and had come rushing in. The Wahash lingered in the corridor behind the Auguments.

"Orlando." Khan called, the blonde male was swiftly at his side.

"Call upon Sheikh Zayed; we have a disturbance to report."

The sinister grin of cynical pleasure that was plastered across Khan's face made Salim's Adam's apple bob nervously.

The Sheikh and his guards arrived swiftly at Khan's summon. The commotion and their arrival had caused most of the staff within the palace to appear.

Before the Sheikh's arrival, Khan had Joaquin remove the camera within the room, to hide any form of foul-play.

Khan told the Sheikh that Salim had assaulted a member of his staff. When the Sheikh questioned this due to Salim's loud rebuttals, Khan informed him that Arba was the one who was injured in the debacle. He also had witnesses that proved Salim was the main source of violence.

Khan knew it didn't sit well with the Sheikh that the witnesses were Orlando and Susan. His Highness reluctantly sided with Khan and had armed guards escort a furious, thrashing Salim away.

Khan suppressed his victorious smile till the Sheikh was out of view.

He returned to his chambers. His mind already formulating the next plan, but the moment he entered his room all thoughts seemed to seize.

Arba was in a state of undress. Transfixed he couldn't turn away.

The black Cossack pants that hung low at her shapely hips were the only thing that kept her modest under his eye. Her back was bear of clothing. He couldn't look away from the scars that littered her skin.

He wasn't even sure if they were scars. They seemed like little stars forever burned onto her bronze complexion. The thick mane of her amber and cognac curls hung at the start of her shoulders. His gaze wandered down the taut skin to the sweeping line of her sculpted back.

She leaned forward; reaching for the new white tank top she left hanging on the wardrobe handle. He did not miss the tempting glimpse of plump skin from the side of her breast. He began to fantasize about all of her, facing him, bare for his eyes to indulge.

He cleared his throat, dispelling the throbbing need in him. He expected a virginal response from her at his sudden appearance, but there was only the stiffening of her shoulders. Tensely, she pulled down her top over her head and then spun around to face him.

The swelling around her eye had disappeared, only the deep red cut remained.

A silence filled the room. Arba stood staring bravely up at him. Her entire body was rigid, her hands clenched at her sides. She was awaiting her punishment for not following orders; she was ready to distance her mind from her body. He could see it in the dead, cold look in her eyes.

"Good night, Arba." Khan stated and then swept past her, heading for the bathroom.

"Good night?" She echoed in disbelief. He halted in front of the porcelain door. He turned so his profile faced her again. Her pretty face was alive with confusion he had caused, her golden orbs glimmering in question.

"Yes, pleasantries that are exchanged before a well deserved rest." He uttered casually. She continued to stare phlegmatically, unsatisfied by the explanation. Khan gazed back, refusing to utter anymore on the matter.

"Good night." He concluded firmly.

"Good night, Sir." She responded, despondently.