Anne Stuart's Out-of-Print Gems by Anne Stuart

could probably knock him over and rip out his life-support systems before Salvatore could return. And then Winslowe would be no threat at all.
    But she could scarcely kill in cold blood, even someone who was clearly deranged and dangerous. “Then you give me no choice,” she said in a deceptively calm voice.
    â€œNo choice at all.”
    She steeled herself, wondering exactly how far she was going to have to go to save her father. To save the company that so many people depended on. “And exactly what will my duties entail?”
    Dead silence met her question, and then he laughed, a dry, eerie sound. “Don’t tell me you’re imagining I expect you to be my bed partner? You do have strange fantasies, Ms. Carey. You strike me as someone far too young and far too inexperienced to be able to deal with someone in my…condition. I don’t want sexual acrobatics. I want…companionship.” There was an odd note in his voice, one Meg was too angry to define.
    â€œI don’t feel very companionable.”
    â€œPerhaps that was the wrong word. I want distraction. Your hatred and distrust is probably far more entertaining than an effort to please me. I’ll make a bargain with you. You can try to escape, and if, by any unbelievable set of circumstances, you manage to get away, I’ll leave your father alone.”
    Again that ominous gurgle. “It’s a bargain, then,” she said faintly, wishing she felt stronger, angrier. “I’ll despise you, insult you and do my damnedest to escape. And you’ll leave my father alone.”
    â€œA bargain,” he agreed, and she was feeling ill enough to imagine the distant trace of concern in his voice. “Are you feeling all right?”
    â€œOf course not!” she snapped, rising on unsteady feet. She couldn’t eat another bite—she knew she’d throw up if she tried. “I’m being held hostage by a madman who’s intent on destroying my father. It’s enough to put a girl off her feed.”
    Again he laughed, that dry, rusty little sound. “Salvatore will take you back to your tower. He could probably manage to come up with something to help you sleep. He has all sorts of interesting abilities.”
    â€œAn aspirin will do me just fine,” she said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy?” she echoed, furious. “Because I have a headache. This place is either too damned hot or too damned cold, and I want…” She let the words trail off. She was about to say, in a miserable little girl’s voice, that she wanted to go home. But she wasn’t going to show weakness to this vast, unseen creature of the night. She wasn’t going to show vulnerability to anyone.
    â€œThe rooms are climate controlled.” Ethan Winslowe’s voice came out of the dark. “Ask Salvatore to adjust the temperature for you. What else was it you were going to say? What else did you want?”
    Maybe if she asked him, begged him, he’d let her go. Maybe if she cried…
    â€œYou aren’t going to be tiresome are you?” he continued before she could decide. “I do hate weeping women. I warned you—I need to be kept amused if I’m going to let your father alone. The moment you begin to bore me, I’ll go after him and bring him down.”
    â€œYou’re a monster,” she said, her voice low and raw and furious. “A sick, evil creature, and if I have to spend another moment in this hothouse mausoleum with you, I’m going to throw up, probably all over your wheelchair. Call Salvatore and let me go back to your room.”
    â€œNot bad for a beginning. You’ll have to come up with some better epithets, though, if you’re going to be here for a while.” The door opened behind her, sending a dim pool of light into the darkened room, one that didn’t even begin to reach the man in the middle of the room. “Salvatore, give Ms.