Awakened by Her Desert Captor Read Online Free PDF

this kind of thing to happen. Their revue had performed privately for A-list stars around the world, much as a pop star might be asked to perform, and they’d done a residency one summer in Las Vegas. But this... Something about this made Sylvie’s skin prickle uncomfortably.
    She tried to reassure herself that she was being silly. The other girls would be waiting for her, they’d rehearse and perform, and then they’d be home before they knew it.
    They were landing now, and she noticed that they were quite far outside the city limits, with nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. The airport didn’t look like a busy capital city’s airport. Just a few small buildings and a runway carved into the arid landscape. She pushed the nervous flutters down.
    Once the small jet had taxied to a gentle stop Sylvie was escorted to the door of the plane—and the heat of the desert hit her so squarely that she had to suck in a breath of hot, dry air. Sweat instantly dampened the skin all over her body. But along with the trepidation she felt at what lay ahead was a quickening of something like exhilaration as she took in the clear blue vastness of the sky and the rolling dunes in the distance.
    She was so far away from everything that was familiar in this completely alien landscape, but it soothed her a little after the last tumultuous couple of weeks. It was as if nothing here could hurt her.
    â€˜Miss, your car is waiting.’
    Sylvie looked down to see a sleek black car. She put on her sunglasses and went down the steps and across the scorching runway to where a driver was holding the back door open. He was dressed in a long cream tunic, with close-fitting trousers underneath and a turban on his head. He looked smart and cool, and she felt ridiculously underdressed in her jeans, ballet flats and loose T-shirt. Like a gauche westerner.
    Someone was putting her cases into the boot, and Sylvie smiled as the driver bowed deferentially, indicating for her to get in.
    She did so—with relief. Already craving the cool balm of air-conditioning. Already wanting to twist her long, heavy hair up and off her neck.
    The door was closed quickly behind her and then a lot of things seemed to happen simultaneously: she heard the snick of the door locking, the driver slid into the front seat and the privacy partition slid up, and Sylvie realised that she wasn’t alone in the back of the car.
    â€˜I trust you had a pleasant flight?’
    The voice was deep, cool—and instantly, painfully, recognisable. Sylvie turned her head and everything seemed to go into slow motion.
    Arkim Al-Sahid was sitting at the far side of the luxurious car, which was now moving. A fact she was only vaguely aware of. She went hot and cold all at once. Her belly dropped near her feet. Her breath was caught in her chest. Shock was seizing at her ability to respond.
    He was dressed in his signature three-piece suit. As if they were in Paris or London. En route to some civilised place. Not here, in the middle of a harsh sun-beaten land. Here in the middle of nowhere. Here where she’d just thought nothing could touch her.
    Arkim Al-Sahid looked so dark, and his face was etched in lines of cruelty.
    A small voice jeered at Sylvie, Did you really think he would do nothing? And underneath the shock was the pounding of her heart that told her that perhaps, in some very deep and hidden secret space, she hadn’t thought he would do nothing. But she’d never expected this...
    He reached forward and her sunglasses were plucked off her face and tucked away into his pocket before she could react. She blinked, and he came into sharp, clear focus. Dark hair brushed back from a high forehead. Deep-set eyes over sharp cheekbones. His patrician nose giving him a slightly hawk-like aspect.
    And that mouth... That cruel and taunting mouth. The mouth that even now she could recall being on hers. Hard and demanding, sending her senses