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A wild look came into her eyes. “I need to see him. Now.”
“I’m sorry Miss Henderson, I cannot simply …”
“Yes you can, simply.” She pointed to his wrist. “Talk into that little thing, and tell him that he either comes to see me now, or I will go back to his father and demand my release.” She put her hands on her hips. “I will do it. This is not a joke. I’m sick and tired of all of this.”
Marook compressed his lips. He had known the minute he’d seen her emerging from Zamir’s aeroplane that it would not end well.
“Yes, ma’am. I will try. But Zamir is …”
“Not going to say no to me. Or he’ll be sorry.”
Marook stopped walking and pressed the digit for Zamir’s private valet He spoke in their language, his eyes glued nervously to Olivia.
“He will come to you shortly.”
“Shortly? That had better mean immediately,” she snapped crossly.
Marook suppressed the flare of admiration. She had spirit, that much was obvious. He nodded politely and began to move towards her room.
“No.” She said, not following. “I don’t want to go back there.” She was being stubborn and recalcitrant and she liked the way it felt. “I want to go outside.”
“Outside?” Marook repeated with bewilderment.
“Yes.”
“It is very hot …”
“I want to go outside.” I want an oompa loompah, and I want it now, she thought to herself.
“Very well, ma’am. This way.” Her position in the palace was not clear, but Marook had an instinct not to pick an argument with her.
There was a small courtyard beyond the library. It was most frequently used by staff, taking a break from their duties of dusting and ordering the thousands of books. But one word from Marook cleared the area for Olivia.
She sent him a look of reluctant gratitude and walked slowly to the edge of the terrazzo ground. There was a wall to one side and jasmine scrambled enthusiastically over it, covering it in a mass of knotted green. But for the rest, the courtyard was open, showcasing views down one side of a fruit orchard of some type, and down another of carefully maintained lawns. She ran a hand over the back of her neck and let out a soft breath.
Dashan, the little she’d seen of it, certainly had charm.
The sound of the door closing drew her attention, and she turned warily.
Zamir. He was dressed in a flowing grey robe, and he looked mysterious and wonderful. His own expression mirrored hers. There was a tension and reserve in his features that she well understood. Marook stepped backwards, into the palace, closing the door behind him.
They were alone.
Now that Olivia was confronted by her captor, the man she had once loved, she wondered just what the hell she could say.
“Hello.”
She almost rolled her eyes at the stupid greeting.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement.
“Zamir,” she hated that her voice trembled. “I want to go.”
“To go where?” He responded quietly.
“I want to go home.”
“Where is home?”
