Hostage Of The Hawk. Sandra Marton

if she’d ever let him know it. Well, not scaring her, exactly, that was too strong a word, but it was hard not to wish they were still seated in the civilised environs of the Oasis Restaurant.

      Was that why he’d dragged her to the middle of nowhere—so he could insult her? That was certainly how it seemed. Even if he hadn’t, even if he’d been deadly serious about taking her somewhere for a glass of champagne, she had absolutely no interest in it now. All she wanted was for him to turn the car around and take her back to the city, to lights and traffic and people.

      ‘I’ve changed my mind about having champagne,’ she said, swinging towards him. She waited for him to answer but he didn’t. After a moment, she cleared her throat. ‘Mr Hassan?’

      ‘I heard you. You’ve changed your mind about drinking with me.’

      ‘No, I mean, it’s not that. I just—I—um—I misjudged the time earlier.’ Damn! Why was she offering an explanation? ‘Please turn the car around.’

      ‘I can’t do that.’

      Can’t? Can’t? Joanna stared at him. ‘Why not?’

      ‘We are expected,’ he said.

      ‘You mean, you made a reservation? Well, I can’t help—’

      He swung to face her suddenly, and even in the shadowy interior of the car, she could see the sharp anger etched into his face.

      ‘The sound of your voice annoys me,’ he said coldly. ‘Sit back, and be silent!’

      Her mouth dropped open. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’ She stared at him, waiting for him to say something, to apologise or offer some sort of explanation, but he didn’t. ‘That’s it,’ she snapped. ‘Dammit, Mr Hassan, that’s the final straw!’

      ‘I don’t like women to use vulgarities.’

      ‘And I don’t like men to behave like bullies! I’m telling you for the last time, turn this car around and take me back to Casablanca!’

      He laughed in a way that made her heart leap into her throat.

      ‘Is that a threat, Miss Bennett?’

      ‘My father will be expecting me. If I’m not at the hotel soon—’

      ‘How charming. Does he always wait up for your return at night?’

      Her eyes flew to his face. What was that she heard in his voice? Disdain? Or was it something more?

      ‘He’ll be waiting to hear how our evening went,’ she said quickly. ‘And unless you want me to tell him that you—’

      ‘Why would he do that?’ He gave her a quick, terrible smile. ‘Was there ever any doubt of your success?’

      ‘Of course. There’s always a chance of a slip-up when—’

      ‘How could there have been a slip-up, once he put you in charge of dealing with the bandit Khalil?’ The awful smile came again, clicking on, then off, like a light bulb. ‘Surely he expected you’d get the agreement for him, one way or another.’

      Joanna clasped her hands together in her lap. Something was happening here, something that was beyond her understanding. All she knew was that she didn’t like it.

      ‘If you’re suggesting my father doesn’t have every confidence in me,’ she began, but the man beside her cut her short.

      ‘Confidence?’ The sound of his laughter was sharp. ‘In what? You’re no more a vice-president at Bennettco than that woman we passed in the street a while ago.’

      ‘Of course I am!’

      ‘What you are,’ he snapped, ‘is an empty-headed creature who knows nothing more important than the latest gossip!’

      Colour rushed into Joanna’s cheeks. ‘How dare you?’

      ‘What is the name of your secretary at Bennettco?’

      ‘I don’t have to answer your questions!’

      ‘Do you even have an office there?’ he demanded.

      She swallowed. ‘Not yet,’ she said finally, ‘but—’

      ‘You are nothing,’ he snarled, ‘nothing! Your father insults me by sending you to me.’

      ‘You’ve got this all wrong,’ Joanna said quickly. ‘I am his confidante. And his vice-president—well, I will be, when—’

      ‘What you are,’ he said grimly, ‘is a Jezebel.’

      She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. ‘What?’

      ‘I knew Bennett was desperate to hold on to his contract with that pig, Abu Al Zouad.’ His eyes shot to her face. ‘But even I never dreamed he’d offer up his daughter to get it!’

      ‘Are you crazy? I told you, my father is ill. That’s why he sent me to meet with you!’

      ‘He sent you to do whatever had to be done to ensure success.’ He threw her a look of such fury that Joanna felt herself blanch. ‘If Khalil wouldn’t accept one sort of bribe, surely he’d accept another.’

      She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Are you saying my father...are you saying you think that I...?’ She sprang towards him across the console and slammed her fist into his shoulder. ‘You—you contemptible son of a bitch! I’d sooner sleep with a—a camel than—’

      She cried out as the car swerved. The tyres squealed as they clawed at the verge; the brakes protested as he jammed them on, and then he swung towards her, his eyes filled with loathing.

      ‘But it would be like sleeping with a camel, wouldn’t it, Miss Bennett? Sleeping with a man like Khalil, I mean.’

      ‘If you touch me,’ Joanna said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, ‘if you so much as put a finger on me, so help me, I’ll—’

      ‘You’ll what?’ His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘Scream? Go right ahead, then. Scream. Scream until you can’t scream any more. Who do you think will hear you?’

      God. Oh, God! He was right. She looked around her wildly. There was darkness everywhere—everywhere except for his face, looming over hers, his eyes glinting with anger, his mouth hard and narrowed with scorn.

      ‘My father,’ she said hoarsely. ‘My father will—’

      ‘The scorpion of the desert is a greater worry to me than is your father.’

      ‘Surely we can behave like civilised human beings and—?’

      He laughed in her face. ‘How can we, when I am the emissary of a savage?’

      ‘I never said that!’

      ‘No. You never did. But you surely thought it. What else would a greedy, tyrannical bandit be if not a savage?’ His mouth thinned. ‘But I ask you, who is the savage, Miss Bennett, the Hawk of the North—or a father who would offer his daughter to get what he wants?’

      He caught her wrist as her hand flew towards his face. ‘I’ve had enough, you—you self-centred son of a bitch! My father would no more—’

      His face twisted. ‘Perhaps I should have let it happen.’ He leaned towards her, forcing her back in her seat. ‘Maybe it wasn’t your father who suggested you make this great sacrifice. Maybe it was you who wanted to share Khalil’s bed—or did you think it would be sufficient to share mine?’

      ‘I’d sooner die,’ Joanna said, her voice rising unsteadily while she struggled uselessly to shove him off her. ‘I swear, I’d sooner—’

      His lips drew back from his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘Just think what erotic delights a savage like me might have taught you. Enough, perhaps, to keep your useless New York friends tittering