But where was she?
Ami pushed the sheet away and gingerly dropped her feet to the bare wood floor. Take it slow, she told herself. She grabbed hold of the bedpost and was distracted a moment by the intricately carved detailing of the stout wooden post. She pulled herself up and stood absolutely still for a time to relieve the vertigo. She took in a deep, steadying breath. There was something vaguely familiar about the way the room smelled, but she couldn’t grasp the fleeting memory. Finally, when the dizziness had passed, she took one tiny step at a time until she reached the wall of windows.
French doors stood between two massive windows. A balcony sprawled in front of her. Beyond that was the autumn-colored forest she’d seen reaching up to the blue sky. The sun was low, almost hidden behind the treetops. Nothing she saw looked even vaguely familiar. She reached for the lever to open the door but a voice stopped her.
“That would be a mistake.”
The deep, erotic sound of the accented voice stroked across her senses, shimmered through her soul, stirring something hidden and long forgotten. But with the dangerous lure of the sound came fear, stark and deep, making her flesh pebble with goose bumps. Slowly, she turned to face the man who’d spoken.
He stood in the shadows on the far side of the room, watching her. Hair as black as midnight fell around his broad shoulders. Without the white shirt he would have disappeared completely into those deepening shadows.
“If you step out onto that balcony, the guards have orders to shoot.” He said this with cold, calculating calm.
Ami reached way down deep for any courage she could find and asked, “Where am I?” Her voice sounded small and as shaky as she felt. She trembled before she could stop herself. She was cold, she rationalized, and hugged her arms around her middle. Only then did she think to look down to see what she was wearing. A man’s shirt. The worn soft fabric whispered against her bare skin. The masculine scent that clung to it elicited an alien yet somehow familiar yearning deep inside her.
He moved toward her. Her head came up, not because she’d heard him, for he made no sound, but because she felt him. Felt him move closer to her as if his presence was somehow connected to her own. She flattened against the door as the thick tension radiating from him slowly closed in around her.
When he stood only three or four feet away, he stopped, the reality of his size slamming into her full-force then. He was tall. Broad shoulders tapered into a lean waist and narrow hips. Long, muscular legs filled out the jeans he wore. Her gaze traveled back up to his face. There was no denying that this was an extraordinarily good-looking man, all angles and shadow, but it was his eyes that were the most compelling of his assets. Deep, dark, pools of heat that could see right through her. That familiar yearning…a recognition of sorts flared, making her shiver.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, his silky voice now rough with impatience.
She shook her head. “Please, I just want to go home.” Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked rapidly to hold them at bay. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be strong. Strong enough to somehow convince this man that he’d make a mistake. A terrible mistake.
“I am Michal Arad.” That intent gaze bored more deeply into hers, watching, analyzing. “This name means nothing to you?”
Her lips trembled and a sob escaped before she could stop it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are or why I’m here, but there must be a mistake. I have to go home.” I need to hold my baby, her heart cried. “Please,” she whispered, emotion choking her. “Please, just let me go home.”
“So Gil was right. You remember nothing.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his chin. The sound of a day’s beard growth rasped beneath his fingers. She shivered, her gaze settling on his full lips. They moved slowly, sensually, as he spoke. “Even with the sodium pentathol. Interesting.”
Sodium pentathol? That’s why she felt so groggy. They’d drugged her. She suddenly remembered the prick of a needle when she’d first been dragged into the van in the hospital parking garage. How long ago had that been? Where was she now? She pivoted and stared out the window, desperation surging through her with every beat of her heart. She didn’t recognize anything at all about the landscape. How could she hope to get away when she had no idea where she was?
“Where am I?” she heard herself ask again, her voice weary now. The fierce emotions were draining out of her, leaving a kind of resigned numbness. She was going to die. The CIA guy named Tanner had warned her and she hadn’t listened. And now it was too late…no way back.
“You are in my home. That is all I will tell you until I have made a decision.”
Ami shivered again with something more than fear, then almost laughed out loud. She was pathetic. Despite her dire circumstances the man’s deep, compelling voice still had the power to make her tremble with a mixture of emotions that frightened her even more than the thought of death.
She faced him again, knowing that nothing she said or did at this point would make a difference. She was dead. It was only a matter of time. She would never see her baby again. And who would raise him? Would Robert still care for Nicholas now that she was out of the picture? She prayed with all her heart that he would. Why hadn’t she married him a year ago? Then there would be no question. She’d been such a fool.
“What decision?” she asked…no, it wasn’t a question, it was a demand, she realized as the harshly uttered words echoed in the room. Feeling suddenly brave, or maybe too incredibly stupid to care, she lifted her gaze and stared directly into his. “What decision do you have to make?”
He touched her then. Her breath caught, but to her credit she didn’t pull away. Those long fingers lingered on her cheek, then trailed along the column of her throat, making her tremble yet again.
“The decision,” he said, his accented voice soft yet undeniably lethal, “as to what I will do with you now that I’ve found you.”
She looked away, unable to tolerate that penetrating gaze a second longer. “Whatever you believe I’ve done to you, you’re wrong.” She stared fully into those dark eyes. “I’m not who you think I am.”
He flattened his hands on the door on either side of her and leaned in closer, so close she could feel the whisper of his warm breath on her face.
“It is not a matter of what I believe,” he told her, his voice just as soft, just as deadly as before. “It is a matter of what I know. I know what you’ve done. And I know exactly who you are.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MICHAL LEFT THE ROOM, his senses humming with a mélange of emotions. Need had somehow surged to the fore-front and overtaken all others, however, and that infuriated him beyond reason. He did not need this woman.
He would not fall prey to her seemingly innocent temptation again. For he knew firsthand that she was not innocent. His jaw tightened with the fury building inside him at his own stupidity. She had plotted the assassination of her own father and had used him to accomplish that end. She had made him drunk with her wicked, feminine wiles…had given up her body entirely to him. Whatever he had wanted she had given until he had grown blind with lust, driven only by need, and finally becoming completely obsessed.