His For A Price |z.h|

7

His thick brows lifted. "I would not be so sure." he told him sardonically. "Nor do you have the power to be selective about your future, sweetheart. Like it or not,at the moment you belong to me and I alone shall decide when to let you go and on what conditions. As I thought I had made clear."

Niall stared at him. "Why are you doing this? Because it makes no sense." He drew a small, harsh breath. "I don't even believe you even like me, let alone - want anything from me."

He shrugged again. "As I remarked just now, Niall love, you come to me highly recommended. And now this discussion has gone long enough," he added, yawning, as Niall's hands clenched involuntarily into fists by his sides at this cold blooded retort. "I have negotiations to conduct tomorrow. A deal to make therefore, I need to get some sleep."

Sleep? In spite of himself, Niall found his gaze turning to the bed, a quiver of apprehension running through him.

Zayn noticed and laughed. "No, my sweet love, I cannot spare the time or energy for your kind of distraction just now, when I have business to transact. But when we meet again in Bradford, you will have no cause to feel neglected, I promise you. You will make a most interesting diversion for my leisure hours."

He walked to the door and called, "Liam."

The door opened so promptly that Niall wondered if the Malik chief dogsbody had been standing with his ear pressed to the panels.

Zayn spoke to him quietly in Urdu, and he nodded impassively and came over to Niall, holding out the trench coat he was carrying over his arm .

"You will wear this, Mr. Horan, if you please."

"Why should I?" Niall squared his shoulders mutinously, putting his hands behind his back.

"Because I wish it." Zayn interposed, his tone level. "Let this be your first lesson in obedience to me, Niall. From now on you will dress and behave with modesty. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Niall said. "I understand."

But you don't. Do you imagine that these clothes were my choice? That I liked pretending to be something I'm not? Something I never will be, no matter what happens?

He took the coat, which clearly belong to someone tall and very much larger, who could be Zayn Malik himself, he thought, shuddering inside, and put it on, tying the belt around his slim waist with an angry jerk to keep it in place.

Then he walked to where Zayn was standing.

"I understand completely.' Niall went on, biting out the words. "You appalling bloody hypocrite." And he swung back his arm and slapped him across the face with such force that his shoulder felt jarred. But it was like punching a marble statue. Even taken off guard, Zayn did not move an inch, or as much as put a hand to his cheek where Niall's finger marks were immediately and clearly visible.

He said quietly. "You will pay for that insult when we meet again, sweetheart, and in coin of my choosing that you may not like. Because we already have another score to settle, you and I. The matter of Lucas Robert. Or did you think you had got away with it?"

Niall cradled his stinging hand in the palm of the other, staring at him in bewilderment. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"No?" There was a jeering note in his voice. "Then think back Niall. You will have plenty of time to do so when you are waiting for me to come to you in my house in Bradford."

He watched the angry color drain from Niall's face and nodded, his mouth twisting in a smile that did not reach his hazel eyes.

"Now, go." he directed curtly. "And have the wisdom to learn some manners - and perhaps a little remorse - before our next encounter."