‘Your job is unaffected. Your boss has been recompensed very generously for the use of your time. So much so, in fact, that I believe he can finally start the renovations he’s been wanting to do for years. As a result of my generous donation the revue is actually closing for a month from next week, while they do the work.’
She had to choke back a lurch of even greater panic; it was common knowledge how much Pierre wanted to renovate—he’d been begging for loans from banks for months. And this would be perfect timing...before the high tourist season.
She spluttered. ‘Pierre would never let one of his girls go off on an assignment alone. He’ll raise hell when I don’t return, no matter how much you’ve offered him!’
Arkim smiled, and it was cold. ‘Pierre is like anyone else in this world—mesmerised when large sums of money are mentioned. He’s been assured that your services are required as dance teacher to one of the Sheikh’s daughters and her friends, who want to learn the western way of dancing. The fact that you’re here with me instead is something he doesn’t need to be aware of.’
Sylvie folded her arms, trying to not let on how scared she was. She injected mockery into her voice. ‘I’m surprised. I would have thought your morals wouldn’t allow you to come within ten feet of me—much less arrange a private performance.’
Arkim was no longer smiling. ‘I’m prepared to risk a little moral corruption for what I want—and I want you.’
She sucked in a breath at hearing him declare it so baldly. ‘I should have known you’d have no scruples. So you’ve effectively bought me? Like some kind of call girl?’
Arkim’s mouth curled up into that cruel smile again. ‘Come now...we both know that that’s not so far from the truth of what you are.’
This time Sylvie couldn’t hold back. She was across the seat and launching herself at Arkim, hand outstretched, ready to strike, when he caught her wrists in his hands. They were like steel manacles, and she fell heavily against his body.
Instantly awareness sparked to life, infusing her veins with heat and electricity. Even now, when she was in the grip of panic and anger.
‘Let me go.’
Arkim’s jaw was like granite, and this close she could see the depths of anger banked deep in his eyes. He was livid. She felt a quiver of real fear—even though, perversely, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her physically.
‘No way. We have unfinished business and we’re not leaving this place until it’s done.’
Sylvie was excruciatingly aware of her body, pressed to Arkim’s much harder and more powerful one. Of the way her breasts were crushed against him, as they’d been crushed against him once before...when he’d thrust her back from him and looked at her as if she’d given him a contagious disease.
‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.
The expression in his eyes changed for the first time, flashing with a heat that Sylvie felt deep in her belly.
‘What I’m talking about is the fact that I’m going to have you—over and over again—for however long it takes until I can think straight again.’ A note of unmistakable bitterness entered his voice. ‘You’ve done it, Sylvie—you’ve got me.’
She finally broke free from Arkim’s grip and sat back, as far away as she could. ‘I don’t want you.’ Liar, whispered an inner voice. She ignored it. She hated Arkim Al-Sahid. ‘As soon as this car stops I’m out of here, and you can’t stop me.’
Arkim merely looked amused. ‘Each time we’ve met you’ve demonstrated how much you want me, so protesting otherwise won’t work now. Where we’re going has no public transport, and it would take you about a week to walk to B’harani—days in any other direction before you hit civilisation.’
Sylvie crossed her arms over her chest, a feeling of claustrophobia threatening to strangle her. ‘This is ridiculous.’ The thought of being alone with this man in some remote desert for the next two weeks was overwhelming. ‘You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do, you know.’
He looked at her, and there was something so explicit in his gaze that she felt herself blushing.
‘I won’t need to use force, Sylvie.’
And just like that the humiliation she’d felt that night in the study of her father’s house came back and rolled over her like a wave.
She fought it. ‘This just proves how little you really felt for my sister. Hurting me will only hurt her.’
The expression on Arkim’s face became incredulous at the mention of Sophie ‘You dare speak to me of hurting your sister? When you were the one who callously humiliated her in public?’
Words of defence trembled on Sylvie’s tongue, but she bit them back. She would never betray her sister’s confidence. Sophie had just been a pawn to him. It never would have worked. She had to remember that. She’d done the right thing.
But then she saw something in the distance and became distracted.
Arkim followed her gaze and said, ‘Ah, we’re here.’
Here was another, even smaller airfield, with a sleek black helicopter standing ready.
Slightly hysterically Sylvie remembered something she’d learnt when she’d taken self-defence classes after a—luckily—minor mugging in Paris. The tutor had told the class the importance of not letting an attacker take you to another location at all costs. Because if he did get you to another place, then your chances of survival were dramatically cut down.
It would appear to be common sense, but the tutor had told them numerous stories of people who had been so frightened they’d just let themselves be taken to another place, when they should always have tried to get away during the initial attack.
And okay, so technically Arkim wasn’t attacking Sylvie, but she knew that if she got into that helicopter her chances of emerging from this encounter unscathed were nil.
The car came to a stop and he looked at her. ‘Time to go.’
Sylvie shook her head. ‘I’m not getting out. I’m staying in this car and it’s going to take me back to wherever we landed. Or to B’harani. I hear it’s a nice city—I’d like to visit.’
She hoped the desperation she was feeling wasn’t evident.
He turned to face her more fully. ‘This car is driven by a man who speaks only one language, and it’s not yours. He answers to me—no one else.’
The sheer hardness of Arkim’s expression told her she was on a hiding to nothing. A sense of futility washed over her. She wouldn’t win this round.
‘Where is it that you’re proposing to take me?’
‘It’s a house I own on the Arabian coast. North of B’harani and one hundred miles from the border of Burquat. Merkazad is in a westerly direction, about six hundred miles.’
The geographical details somehow made Sylvie feel calmer, even though she still had no real clue where they were. She’d heard of these places, but never been.
Something occurred to her. ‘This...’ her mouth twisted ‘...this fee you’ve paid Pierre. I assume it’s conditional on my agreeing to this farcical non-existent dance tuition?’
Arkim nodded. ‘That’s good business sense, I think you’ll agree.’
Sylvie wanted to tell him where he could stick his business sense, but she refrained. She didn’t doubt that there really was no option but to go with Arkim. For now.
‘Once we’re at this...this place, you won’t force me to do anything I don’t want to?’
Arkim shook his head, eyes gleaming with a disturbing light.