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.'No, Sylvie. There will be no force involved. I'm not into sadism.'
His smug arrogance made her want to try and slap him again. Instead, she sent him a wide, sunny, smile.'You know, work has been so crazy busy lately I'm actually looking forward to an all-expenses-paid break. The fact that I have to share space with you is unfortunate, but I'm sure we can stay out of each other's way.'
Arkim just smiled slowly, and with an air of sensual menace, as if he knew just how flimsy her bravado was.
'We'll see.'
* * *
Sylvie had never been in a helicopter before, and she'd been more mesmerised than she cared to admit by the way the desert dunes had unfolded beneath them, undulating into the distance like the sinuous curves of a body. It all seemed utterly foreign and yet captivating to her.
Her stomach was only just beginning to climb back down from her throat when she heard a deep voice in her ear through the headphones.
'That's my house, Al-Hibiz, directly down and to your left.'
Sylvie looked down and her breath was taken away. House? This was no house. It looked like a small but formidable castle, complete with ramparts and flat roofs. It was distinctly Arabic in style, with ochre-coloured walls. Within those walls she could see lush gardens, and in the distance the Arabian sea sparkled. What looked like an oasis lay far off in the distance, a spot of deep green. It was like something out of a fairytale.
It distracted her from the shock she still felt after realising that Arkim was co-piloting the helicopter, and the way his hands had lingered as he'd strapped her in, those fingers resting far too close to her breasts under her thin T-shirt.
He should have looked ridiculous, getting into the cockpit still dressed in his suit, against the backdrop of the stark desert, but he hadn't. He'd looked completely at home, powerful and utterly in control.
And now the helicopter was descending onto a flat area just outside the walls of the castle, which looked much bigger from this vantage point.
Sylvie could see robed men waiting, holding on to their long garments and the turbans on their heads as the helicopter kicked up sand and wind. When the craft bounced gently onto the earth she breathed out a deep sigh of relief, unaware of how tense she'd been.
The helicopter blades stopped turning and a delicious silence settled over them for a moment, before Arkim got out and the men approached. She watched as he greeted the men heartily in a guttural language that still managed to sound melodic, a wide smile on his face.
It took her breath away. It was the first genuine smile she'd ever seen on his face. Admittedly their previous encounters hadn't exactly been conducive to such a reaction. Not unless she counted that sexy smile when his hand had explored between her legs-
'Time to get out, Sylvie. I'm afraid the chopper has to go back and you're not going to be in it.'
She scowled, hating to be caught out in such a memory. She fumbled with the seat belt and swatted his hand away when he would have helped. Eventually it came undone and she extricated her arms, unaware of how the movement pulled her T-shirt taut over her breasts, or of how Arkim's dark gaze settled there for a moment with a flash of hunger. If she'd seen that she might well have barricaded herself into the helicopter, come hell or high water.
But then she was out, and swaying a little unsteadily on the firm sun-baked ground.
Staff dressed in white rushed to and fro, loading luggage into the back of a small people carrier, and then Arkim was leading Sylvie over to what looked like a luxurious golf buggy. He indicated for her to get in, and after a moment's futile rebellion she did so.
She really was stuck here now-with him.
He got in beside her and drove the small open-sided vehicle to the entrance of the castle, where huge wooden doors were standing open. They entered a beautiful airy courtyard, with a fountain in the centre. A deliciously cool gentle mist of moisture settled on her skin from the spray.
But the vehicle had stopped now, and Arkim was at her side, holding out a hand. Sylvie ignored it and stepped out, not wanting to see what would undoubtedly be a mocking look on his face.
When he didn't move, though, she had to look at him. He gestured with a hand and-damn him-a mocking smile.
'Welcome to my home, Sylvie. I expect our time here to be...cathartic.'
CHAPTER THREE
SYLVIE PACED BACK and forth in the rooms she'd been shown to by Arkim. Cathartic! The arrogant, patronising son-of-a-
A knock sounded on the door and she halted, her breathing erratic. Her hands balled into fists at her sides-she wasn't ready to see Arkim again.
Cautiously she approached the ornately decorated door and opened it, ready to do battle, only to find two pretty, smiling women on the other side. They had her two wheelie suitcases. One filled with now redundant dance costumes, the other with her own clothes.
She forced a smile and stood back. They entered meekly and she observed their pristine white dresses. Like long tunics. They wore white head coverings too, but not veils obscuring their faces. They looked cool and fresh, and Sylvie felt sticky and gritty after the tumultuous day.
As they were leaving again one of the girls stopped and said shyly, 'I'm Halima. If you need anything just pick up the phone and I will come to you.'
She ducked her head and then was gone, leaving Sylvie feeling a little slack-jawed. She had her own maid?
Arkim had left her here with a curt instruction to rest and said that he'd let her know when dinner would be ready. Sylvie could see the sky outside turning blood-red from the setting sun, and for the first time took in the sheer opulence of the rooms.