Who Rides the Tiger Read Online Free PDF

her way back to their table, and re-seated herself, wishing she had the courage to walk out of the night club. But outside was a strange alien city and she didn't* much fancy trying to get a taxi alone at this time of night.
    A few moments later a shadow fell across the table and she looked up into Vincente's dark face. 'Do not do that again,'he snapped.
    'Do what? Leave you to your mistress?' she exclaimed, stung by his assumption that he had the right to dictate her affairs.
    He caught her wrist and wrenched her up out of her seat. . 'Come,' he said. 'We will go somewhere else.'
    Dominique struggled uselessly. 'I want to go home, Mr. Santos,' she said coldly. 'At least back to my hotel!'
    He did not reply, but merely turned and walked out of the restaurant, practically dragging her along behind him.
    Outside the night air was warm and velvety, and millions of stars twinkled overhead, vying with the myriad strings of lights that edged the promenade adjacent to Copacabana beach. The sound of the ceaseless surf was like thunder in their ears, and Dominique took several deep breaths to rid her lungs of the smoky atmosphere of the club.
    They reached the car, and he put her inside firmly, and then walked round to get in beside her. He flicked the ignition, and the powerful engine roared to life, and they drove out of the parking area and along the sea front. Presently he turned off into the winding side streets, steep thoroughfares that wound round the older buildings of the city. Dominique wanted to ask where he was taking her, but his expression brooked no interference and she kept silent, wishing with all her heart she had never been foolish enough to come out with him.
    Eventually they emerged from the side streets into a wide avenue of trees, and he drove along this towards a park at the far end. Near the park were several blocks of luxury apartments, and it was into the forecourt of one of these apartment buildings that he drove. He halted the car, pocketed the keys, and helped Dominique out. She looked up at the block fearfully, and then at Vincente.
    'Come,' he said, and she had no choice but to follow him.
    Inside several lifts transported the tenants to their assigned destination, and it was into one of these that he drew her. He pressed the button for the penthouse, and the lift shot up silently. Dominique barely had time to collect herself before they were stepping out into a wide carpeted hall. Vincente closed the lift doors, pressed a button, and it glided away. Then he took Dominique's arm and led her towards double panelled doors.
    Producing his keys, he flung open one of the doors, and gently urged her inside. When he switched on the lights, Dominique just stood and stared. She had never seen such luxury in all her life.
    Shallow steps led down into the body of the room on to a floor that was tiled in mosaic of blue and gold, an iridescent kind of mosaic that glinted in the artificial lights. Skin rugs adorned this floor, echoed in the seats of deep armchairs which were otherwise made of black leather. Almost a whole wall had been given over to a window that gave a panoramic view of the city, fitted with a V enetian blind that could be adjusted to admit light but not the dazzling sunshine. Tonight it was open and even from the doorway Dominique could see the shimmering lights below them. Long golden curtains hung at the windows also, and several lamps in a very contemporary design provided oases of brilliance. And yet in spite of its opulence Dominique thought it was a very attractive room, and one in which one could completely relax. Up here, away from the noise and bustle of the street, it was like being in the air-conditioned cabin of an airliner.
    Then she became conscious of Vincente Santos again, as he closed the door and walked ahead of her down the steps and into the room.
    'Well?' he said, somewhat mockingly. 'What do you think?'
    Dominique stiffened. 'It's beautiful, of course. But you don't need me to