then another emerged.
The silver barrel of a handgun flashed. It was trained on me.
My vision narrowed until the gun was all I could see—and instinct kicked in.
I ran, adrenaline spiking through my veins. I fled in the opposite direction, down a hallway. Footsteps closed in behind me. Light broke at the corner, and I strained to reach it. Darkness flashed across the light, and my face slammed into something solid.
Hands clamped over my arms, and I did the only thing I could think to do.
I screamed.
I filled my lungs and let sound boom out of my chest like a siren.
“Angelina?”
The sound of my name wrapped around me like an embrace. I looked up at Haithem, taking in his magnificent features drawn tight and fierce. My blood pounded manically, thudding in my eardrums. I clung to him, buried my hands into his shirt and held on.
“There are men with guns.” I glanced over my shoulder.
The men slowed. The one with the gun held it loosely at his side.
Haithem wound an arm around my waist and pressed my face against his chest. I breathed in the subtle strength of his scent.
He spoke quiet, foreign words, and the men fell back.
“Come with me,” he said, and grasped my arm, leading me around the corner and upstairs.
We glided across the deck, then into his cabin. The walls swam around me. I still felt hot, as if I’d been baked alive under that tarp. Haithem lowered me into a chair. I sank down, then gripped the arms. Things had gone blurry again. I needed water. There were cracks on my tongue. He dragged another chair across the carpet and positioned it in front of me.
Haithem flicked the button of his right shirt sleeve, rolled the material and pushed it above his elbow, then did the same to the other side. His bulky forearms flexed. The raw masculinity of those meaty arms hit me even through the madness flooding my system.
All I could think was Man. Man. Man. Man. My upper lip twitched where moisture cooled the skin. Finally, it made sense. The weirdness. The fogginess.
I must be dreaming.
That seductive nightmare where I wanted those arms to crush me. Where I could do all the things I longed for and be absolved of guilt for choosing to do them. Hadn’t I longed for this? To escape with him? But I couldn’t make that decision. Not without facing an ocean of guilt. So now dreams took over and let me have my fantasy.
Nicely done, imagination. In that case, I’d bloody well enjoy it.
I reached for that warm olive skin, but his roughened voice stopped me.
“Why are you still on my yacht?”
He wasn’t acting like he should be in my dreams. He wasn’t revealing the rest of that magnificent skin. Wasn’t touching me. He was acting serious—being real .
My fingers flew to my temples, where pain radiated and scattered the flood of thoughts. “I fell into the lifeboat.”
He leaned forward, rested those forearms on his knees and studied me. Studied me as if he just might open his mouth and swallow me whole.
“We departed Melbourne over twelve hours ago. You expect me to believe you only just scrambled out?”
Twelve hours...
I couldn’t have been on the boat that long. I ran my hands over my crumpled dress, and smelled the slightly sweet scent of sweat clinging to me like film. “I think I knocked my head...”
His jaw flexed, and his words took on lethal sharpness. “I’m going to give you this one chance, and I hope you are smart enough to take it...” He scanned my eyes. “Who do you work for?”
I straightened up. The absurdity of it all, of being on a yacht with armed men, of his questioning, sank in. I laughed. Laughed until the sound snorted out of my nose, and tears leaked out my eyes.
Haithem wasn’t laughing. He scowled, and that look—my god, it made me laugh harder. It was entirely too fierce for one man’s face—it probably made people piss themselves, but I could only piss myself laughing.
He stared at me until my laughter wafted into giggles.
“Who do you work
The silver barrel of a handgun flashed. It was trained on me.
My vision narrowed until the gun was all I could see—and instinct kicked in.
I ran, adrenaline spiking through my veins. I fled in the opposite direction, down a hallway. Footsteps closed in behind me. Light broke at the corner, and I strained to reach it. Darkness flashed across the light, and my face slammed into something solid.
Hands clamped over my arms, and I did the only thing I could think to do.
I screamed.
I filled my lungs and let sound boom out of my chest like a siren.
“Angelina?”
The sound of my name wrapped around me like an embrace. I looked up at Haithem, taking in his magnificent features drawn tight and fierce. My blood pounded manically, thudding in my eardrums. I clung to him, buried my hands into his shirt and held on.
“There are men with guns.” I glanced over my shoulder.
The men slowed. The one with the gun held it loosely at his side.
Haithem wound an arm around my waist and pressed my face against his chest. I breathed in the subtle strength of his scent.
He spoke quiet, foreign words, and the men fell back.
“Come with me,” he said, and grasped my arm, leading me around the corner and upstairs.
We glided across the deck, then into his cabin. The walls swam around me. I still felt hot, as if I’d been baked alive under that tarp. Haithem lowered me into a chair. I sank down, then gripped the arms. Things had gone blurry again. I needed water. There were cracks on my tongue. He dragged another chair across the carpet and positioned it in front of me.
Haithem flicked the button of his right shirt sleeve, rolled the material and pushed it above his elbow, then did the same to the other side. His bulky forearms flexed. The raw masculinity of those meaty arms hit me even through the madness flooding my system.
All I could think was Man. Man. Man. Man. My upper lip twitched where moisture cooled the skin. Finally, it made sense. The weirdness. The fogginess.
I must be dreaming.
That seductive nightmare where I wanted those arms to crush me. Where I could do all the things I longed for and be absolved of guilt for choosing to do them. Hadn’t I longed for this? To escape with him? But I couldn’t make that decision. Not without facing an ocean of guilt. So now dreams took over and let me have my fantasy.
Nicely done, imagination. In that case, I’d bloody well enjoy it.
I reached for that warm olive skin, but his roughened voice stopped me.
“Why are you still on my yacht?”
He wasn’t acting like he should be in my dreams. He wasn’t revealing the rest of that magnificent skin. Wasn’t touching me. He was acting serious—being real .
My fingers flew to my temples, where pain radiated and scattered the flood of thoughts. “I fell into the lifeboat.”
He leaned forward, rested those forearms on his knees and studied me. Studied me as if he just might open his mouth and swallow me whole.
“We departed Melbourne over twelve hours ago. You expect me to believe you only just scrambled out?”
Twelve hours...
I couldn’t have been on the boat that long. I ran my hands over my crumpled dress, and smelled the slightly sweet scent of sweat clinging to me like film. “I think I knocked my head...”
His jaw flexed, and his words took on lethal sharpness. “I’m going to give you this one chance, and I hope you are smart enough to take it...” He scanned my eyes. “Who do you work for?”
I straightened up. The absurdity of it all, of being on a yacht with armed men, of his questioning, sank in. I laughed. Laughed until the sound snorted out of my nose, and tears leaked out my eyes.
Haithem wasn’t laughing. He scowled, and that look—my god, it made me laugh harder. It was entirely too fierce for one man’s face—it probably made people piss themselves, but I could only piss myself laughing.
He stared at me until my laughter wafted into giggles.
“Who do you work
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