Chapter 14
“Where are we?” Marianna asked, watching as guards surrounded the SUVs after they’d driven into a secure building.
“This is my home,” Amit explained, stepping out of the vehicle and extending his hand to help her step out.
“Why can’t I go back to Lativa?” she asked, resisting the offer of his hand. She was suspicious now. Everything felt…wrong! Not to mention, she kept reliving that kiss. It had felt like the world was moving under her feet!
No! Not amazing. She hadn’t asked for the kiss. So, why had she participated? Not just participated, she admonished herself. Marianna knew that she’d deepened the kiss, clung to this man as if she’d wanted more than just the kiss. Maybe she could blame it on heightened emotions? That had been one hell of a moment.
Immediately, her body tightened at the thought of “more”.
This was crazy! This man didn’t respect her! Well…actually, he’d said how much he respected her intelligence and…!
Marianna found herself in a whirlwind of emotions. Was she truly going to continue to harbor resentment over comments made eight years ago? If she decided to give weight to his past remarks, then she had to hold his current words to the same standard. Her commitment to fairness and her instinct to examine facts and data objectively had been the cornerstone of her growth over the years, not only in her blog posts, but also in her personal life. So, applying that same logical approach to her emotional responses was only fair.
“Let’s go inside,” he urged, pulling Marianna’s attention back to the present. Looking around at the parking garage, Marianna had so many questions. But guards surrounded her and Amit. Perhaps this wasn’t the moment to demand answers, she told herself.
Amit reached out, touching her arm. The warmth of his fingers scorched her skin, but Marianna didn’t want to pull away. Was she simply finding the man more attractive because he’d rescued her?
No, her attraction to the man had been a living force ever since she’d met him at the tender age of sixteen. She’d been too young back then to recognize, let alone understand, the rush of feelings he evoked within her. But she was older and wiser now. She’d been in the world, surrounded by men, challenged by those who wanted to tear down her reputation. Marianna knew that her ability to analyze the world had overcome those who’d tried to rip her political and economic arguments apart. So now was the time to step back and gather data.
She almost laughed at the idea that the kiss should be considered “data”, but it was.
So, instead of arguing with him, instead of demanding that he send her back home, Marianna allowed Amit to lead her into the elevator.
It was a silent, tense ride. She was painfully conscious of the heat emanating from him, warming up her arm and leg. He didn’t touch her, but he was so very close.
Marianna needed a place to think, to process everything that had happened. When she worked on a topic for her blog post, Marianna used a white board on which she listed the pros and cons of each topic. She needed to do that with what was happening between herself and Amit.
But that was not going to happen, she realized when he led her through a long, dimly lit hallway.
“This is the back hallway to my private suite,” he explained quietly.
Marianna wanted to protest, but she was surrounded by Amit and his personal bodyguards, who were on high alert. She considered protesting anyway, but thought it might be wiser to hold off until she knew what was going on.
And yet, she remembered her guards urging her to never be taken to a secondary site. It was better to fight as hard as possible and try to get away because once a person was locked in a prison cell, it was much more difficult to escape.
“Amit, this isn’t–”
“Wait,” he urged, his hand leaving her arm to press against the small of her back. For some reason, that felt much more intimate.
Marianna snapped her mouth shut, looking around. But she didn’t see anything that could be considered a threat. She opened her mouth again, intending to protest, to demand that he take her back to Lativa.
“Amit, I don’t think–”
Before she could finish that statement, he pushed through a non-descript door that led to a kitchen. He hurried her through the kitchen and into…what had to be his private suite. It was enormous and absolutely gorgeous! The silk draperies were done in rich shades of brown and sensuous cream silk, and just visible through a pair of French doors was a shimmering private pool surrounded by thick vegetation. The sun was just starting to come up, filtering through the plants that left dappled sunshine on the small oasis.
Inside his suite, there was an enormous, C-shaped dark leather sofa set in front of a massive television. There was a dining area, a study, and several doors that most likely led to…bedrooms? She couldn’t be sure, but the suite was incredibly lush and masculine. It reminded her of what her brothers’ private suites had been like before they’d married their wives. After that, the décor had lightened and, as the children arrived, the colors brightened.
“Okay, now you can speak,” Amit told her, finally slowing down. He strolled casually to the bar, retrieving a bottle. It wasn't wine, the only form of alcohol she had ever enjoyed. This was something altogether more potent. He poured the amber liquid into two glasses, offering one to her.
“Drink this,” he urged.
Marianna took the glass, but she didn’t drink it. Her nerves sang as the awareness that she was alone with Amit sank in.
“I want to go home,” she said, wishing her tone was firmer.
“I know, ya asal ,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. He sipped his drink, sighed quietly, and then moved closer to her. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a cell phone and handing it to her. “Here,” he offered. “Call your brother. I’ve already told him that I have you and that you’re safe. But I know that he wants to hear from you.” He led her over to the brown, leather sofa. “I bet you’ll feel better after you speak to Khal as well. Am I right?”
This was so unexpected, Marianna didn’t know what to say. She stared down at the glass of alcohol in one hand and the phone in the other. “You’re not…keeping me here against my will?”
He blinked at her, startled. But then he chuckled, shaking his head. “No, habibti . You’re not my prisoner.” He gestured to the sofa behind her and they sat down. “I know that would probably be more to your liking.”
She perched on the edge of the sofa. “Why would you say that? Why would anyone prefer to be a prisoner?”
His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Because that would reinforce your opinion of me,” he replied smoothly, lifting a dark eyebrow as he waited for her reaction. “You prefer to keep me as the bad guy so that you can deny the attraction I know you feel.”
The feeling of being pulled into his arms popped into her head and she could feel her cheeks heat with desire. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him.
Taking a deep breath, she set the glass down on the coffee table. “Let me call Khal.” She sighed and looked down at the phone in her hands. “I’m sure he’s worried sick.”