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‘You’re not still trying to buy some of his oil wells?’
‘Indeed I am. And I am this close...’ he held up his thumb and forefinger, with a distance of an inch between them ‘...to succeeding. Which is why the trip cannot be cancelled—and why you will be accompanying me.’
‘Me?’ Her voice was a squeak as her hands tightened into balled fists. ‘Why on earth would I come with you to Jazratan?’
‘Why not? It will provide us with the space we need. I’ll have to run it past the Sheikh’s advisors first, but I can foresee no problem. You were the best secretary I’ve ever had and you’ve worked on some of the negotiations with me in the past. I can say that I want you beside me if and when I sign the biggest deal of my life.’
She stared at him. ‘Are you...out of your mind?’
Abruptly, his mood seemed to change. Gone was the element of negotiation and in its place was a steely determination she recognised only too well.
‘No, I am not out of my mind,’ he iced back. ‘I am trying to work out a solution and I am fighting every instinct I possess not to go in there and tell that little boy the truth. To tell him that not only is his mother a liar, but that she has kept me completely out of the loop. I don’t think the courts look very favourably on that kind of behaviour these days. A mother denying her child access to his father is seen as selfish, not noble—and gone are the days when a father has no rights. So are you going to accept my suggestion, Erin—or are you going to waste time by arguing with me, when we both know I always get what I want in the end?’
Yes, he did.
Always.
Erin tried to get her head around his words. Accompany him to Jazratan, to stay in a desert palace?
He couldn’t force her...yet if she turned him down, her refusal to cooperate would surely impact on Leo. Her gaze strayed to his stony profile and she saw a nerve flickering at his temple—an indication he had reached the limit of his patience, a quality for which he had never been renowned. And she knew he was right. There was no point in fighting him. Because he would win.
‘It seems I have no choice,’ she said.
He smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. ‘That is possibly the first sensible thing you’ve said all day,’ he said. ‘So go and get your stuff together and explain to your sister that there’s been a change of plan.’ He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘This is my private number. She can contact you via this should the need arise while we’re away.’
Erin took the card from him as the limousine drew up at the end of her road and thoughts of escape overwhelmed her as she reached for the door handle. What if he turned up at the appointed time and she and Leo weren’t there—he would have to leave for Jazratan without her, wouldn’t he?
But almost as if he’d read her mind, he reached out and caught hold of her and Erin could feel her pulse rocketing as his fingers curled over her wrist.
‘This is going to happen, make no mistake. So don’t keep me waiting and don’t even think about running away,’ he said softly. ‘You have precisely one hour and then my car will return for you. Do you understand?’
Erin was still shaking as she watched him drive away, taking a moment to compose herself as she pushed open the door of the Oranges & Lemons café, which her sister had named after a famous nursery rhyme about the church bells of London. It was a bright and cheerful place, decorated with framed paintings of the fruits done by local children, and usually Erin enjoyed that first explosion of colour whenever she walked in. But today all she could think about were a pair of icy eyes and the harsh words Dimitri had spoken to her.
Her sister, Tara, was polishing glasses behind the counter and she looked up in surprise when she saw her, blinking behind her owl-like glasses.
‘Erin! What on earth are you doing here? You look terrible,’ she added before lowering her voice, even though there were hardly any customers around. ‘Did something happen? Did it...’ She hesitated, her face twisting with a funny kind of expression. ‘Did the wedding all go off as planned?’
‘No,’ said Erin flatly. ‘It didn’t.’
Tara stared. ‘Whose clothes are you wearing?’
For a minute Erin didn’t know what her sister was talking about and then looked down and realised she was wearing another woman’s sweater and a pair of jeans which didn’t fit her properly. ‘It’s a long story,’ she said and then, stupidly, her voice began to wobble and for one awful moment she thought she was about to cry. She swallowed, because she wasn’t going to do that. She mustn’t do that. Staying calm needed to be her focus, not making stupid displays of unnecessary emotion. She drew a deep breath and tried to make her voice sound as bland as if she were announcing what was showing on TV that night. ‘Dimitri Makarov turned up.’
