by Abby Green
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they’d left the city behind and were on the open road. The sooner he was airborne and onto his next meeting the better. It would mean welcome distraction from thinking about a pixie-sized, short-haired enigma. Just then his phone rang, and his mouth curved into a smile when he saw a familiar name.
He answered with affection, ‘Cherie … how are you today?’
What felt like a long time later, Luc became aware of waking up and feeling inordinately groggy. He opened his eyes and blinked at the bright sunlight streaming in the small window beside him. His surroundings were very quiet, but he could hear the sea in the distance and gulls overhead. The plane had obviously landed—the cabin door was open just a few feet away—but there was no sign of the air steward or pilot.
He remembered being on the phone as he’d boarded the plane, and then the flight attendant offering him coffee which he’d drunk with relish to perk up his tired mind. He’d drunk two cups, and after that remembered nothing—which was odd, because he’d intended working.
Slowly tendrils of lucidity came back into his brain, and with them finally came clarity. He looked around him. All his belongings were gone. His laptop that he’d been working on, his phone, his briefcase … He looked outside the window properly now, and the realisation hit him that he wasn’t looking at the mountainous peaks of Switzerland. He was looking at an altogether hotter vista.
Feeling increasingly as if he’d stepped into a twilight zone, Luc undid his seat belt and stood up. Shaking his head free of a residual fogginess, he went to the open door and squinted into the glaring sunlight. It was warm. And it was most certainly not Switzerland. A faint heat haze shimmered in the distance, and the cerulean blue sky showcased the glittering waters of the … Luc blinked disbelievingly. The Mediterranean?
A movement out of the corner of his eye made his head swivel round, and he saw a small Jeep parked near the plane. Someone was standing by its side. It was a slim, petite figure, with short strawberry-blonde hair. Faded jeans, running shoes and a white shirt. Dark glasses hid eyes which he could recall with all too disturbing ease, despite the lingering fog in his head.
Luc slowly descended the steps attached to the plane and as the warm salt-tangy air hit him all his synpases started firing again. This was real—not a dream or the twilight zone—and he took it from the slightly defensive stance of the small woman in the distance that she was entirely responsible for the fact that he wasn’t where he was meant to be.
Storming into his office demanding answers was one thing … This action had taken things to another level. The fact that Luc had underestimated someone for the second time in his life sent acrid anger to his gut. No one underestimated him any more.
He wasn’t aware of the hurried movements behind him when his feet touched the tarmac, but as soon as he walked away from the steps the air steward appeared in the plane’s doorway to haul the steps back up out of sight, and the door was closed. Luc went towards Jesse Moriarty and came to a stop just feet away, head thrown back, nostrils flaring, and he stared down at her from his considerable height advantage.
‘Well, well, Ms Moriarty, fancy meeting you here. Are you going to tell me where I am?’ His voice dripped with ice.
He could see Jesse’s slim throat work as she swallowed. The fact that she wasn’t as cool as she was obviously striving to appear did nothing for his temper levels.
Slowly she supplied, ‘Greece. This is a privately owned Greek island, which I’m renting.’
‘That’s nice. And you felt compelled to bring me along to join you on your holiday?’
Jesse didn’t answer immediately and Luc added caustically, ‘If I’d known how desperate you were for my company we could have come to some arrangement.’
He could see her cheeks flush red and she bit out, ‘It’s not … not like that. That’s not why you’re here.’
Somehow that had a more incendiary effect on Luc than finding himself landed in a different country from the one he’d been flying to. He closed the distance between them and grabbed Jesse’s arms in two hands, shaking her. She was so slight that her sunglasses fell off with the motion, revealing those huge grey eyes, stormy with swirling emotions, staring up at him.
‘Well? Are you going to tell me what the hell I’m doing here?’
‘I …’ She gulped visibly, and then said more forcibly, ‘I’ve kidnapped you.’
CHAPTER THREE
LUC Sanchis’s hands were painfully tight on her arms, but Jesse wouldn’t emit so much as a squeak to let him know. She looked up into those flashing dark brown eyes and noticed for the first time that he had the most absurdly long lashes. She blinked. This was crazy! She’d just kidnapped one of the world’s most influential men and she was noticing his eyelashes?
Jerkily, and with a lot of effort, Jesse pulled free of Luc Sanchis’s tight grip; she knew she’d be bruised. He was still staring at her, stunned. Fear pierced Jesse for a second. He looked okay, but what if he’d been allergic to—?
Suddenly his slightly stunned look changed to something much cooler and angry. ‘I presume you had them slip something into my coffee?’
Jesse flushed. She could see the small plane now almost at the other end of the runway out of the corner of her eye. Neither of them had even noticed the low throb of the engine.
‘I asked them to put a herbal sleeping aid into your coffee. I was hoping it would make you too groggy to notice the detour in your flight, and also give them time to take your things. We didn’t know it would knock you out.’
Grimly Luc surmised that that was because they hadn’t known how tired he was. He wasn’t feeling any lingering effects of the herbal remedy now, so he knew it hadn’t been anything stronger.
He heard the throttle of the plane roar behind him as it geared up to make its dash back down the runway. Luc turned around and saw it start its run, gathering speed. As he watched it come closer and closer and faster incredulity kept him immobile. He realised that this was the first time in a long time that things had deviated off the tracks of his well-ordered life, and along with the incredulity was something much more ambiguous.
The small plane sped past him, bringing a small tornado of wind and hot air in its wake, and he watched with a hand over his eyes as it lifted up into the clear blue sky and banked to the right, with the sunlight glinting mockingly off its black wings.
That fleeting feeling of something ambiguous dissolved as the enormity of what had happened hit Luc. He looked down at Jesse Moriarty now, his insides tensing at the reality of how petite she was—especially in flat shoes. Her short hair had been whipped up by the wind, leaving it tousled and surprisingly sexy against her delicate skull. Then he remembered her arrogance in his office last week—her proposal to match his buy-out. Luc crossed his arms and felt the acrid burn of anger in his gut.
Jesse gulped; she had seen the way Luc Sanchis’s disbelieving eyes had followed the plane’s ascent. He was looking down at her now, though, and his eyes were flat and hard. Completely emotionless. Jesse knew that along with her father she’d just made possibly the worst enemy of her life.
As the noise of the plane became fainter and fainter silence surrounded them again, only broken by the sound of small chirruping insects in the distance, stopping and starting.
Luc Sanchis’s voice was silky when it came, disconcerting and jarring.
‘You do know that you’re looking at possibly eight years’ imprisonment for this stunt?’
Jesse nodded slowly. She’d had to weigh up all the possible consequences, but the main one would be that her father wouldn’t be bailed out by Luc Sanchis—and that was all that mattered.
‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said now, as much to herself as to Luc Sanchis.
His face was tight, the lines starkly beautiful against the blue sky. ‘Where are my things—my laptop, phone … passport?’
Jesse fought not to quail under his censorious gaze and tone. She swallowed
. ‘They’re in a safe place … and will be given back to you on the day you leave.’
The sound of tension was evident in his voice. ‘And when will that be?’
Jesse felt the tightness in her chest. ‘When the deadline has come and gone on your deal with O’Brien.’
When it would be too late to make sure that he had O’Brien where he wanted him.
Luc reeled, and his mind almost closed down at that unpalatable prospect. Fury gripped him like a physical force. To be rendered so powerless, helpless. For the first time in his life he felt capable of violence.
He stepped back. He forced air into his lungs and shook his head. ‘Unbelievable … You want him this badly yourself?’
Jesse felt hard inside. No one else had come forward to save O’Brien, and if she could hold Sanchis off until it was too late her father would effectively be a sinking ship that no one would touch. He’d be mired in legal red tape for years, and Jesse knew that once people started looking into his affairs his years of tax evasion, corruption and fraud would catch up with him. He’d most certainly be facing a gaol sentence.
Luc Sanchis wouldn’t touch him then, for fear of being embroiled in his mess. Everything she’d learned about his pristine ethics and business practices told Jesse that. In a way, if he’d turned out to be as corrupt as her father it would have made this easier …
‘Yes,’ Jesse said firmly, ‘I want him this badly.’
Luc Sanchis stepped closer again, and Jesse couldn’t help a small faltering step backwards, hating herself for showing him the slightest weakness.
‘You’ve made a very grave error in deciding to fight me on this matter.’
Jesse forced steel into her spine and looked straight into those dark eyes. ‘I offered you an opportunity to step aside and you didn’t take it.’
Luc Sanchis stepped even closer, intimidating, his scent woodsy and distracting.
‘All you’ve done here is make yourself a foe for life. When I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky to get work in an internet café.’
Luc welcomed the rage simmering inside him. It was distracting him from how delicate Jesse Moriarty appeared even when she’d just kidnapped him! He’d spent so long dreaming of the moment when he’d have O’Brien exactly where he wanted him, and now he was looking at years of plans gone to waste.
He had to step away from Moriarty and her faux vulnerability and turn around. Spiking his hands in his hair, his muscles bunched with angry tension, Luc wanted to smash his fist into something solid. Preferably a wall. But nothing surrounded him except the mocking silence of this mystery island.
He whirled round again, taking in her pale features. That angered him even more. ‘Where the hell are we? And don’t just say “a Greek island” again.’
Jesse bit her lip so hard she could feel blood. When Luc Sanchis had turned away from her just now she’d had a very real sense that he wanted to hit something.
She quickly considered his question and decided that there was nothing he could do about it anyway. ‘We are on a small uninhabited island called Oxakis. It’s privately owned. It’s one of the most remote islands in the Greek archipelago.’
Sanchis bit back a curse. Out of the thousands of islands and islets in Greece he knew only a few hundred were inhabited. They could literally be anywhere right now, and there was no land in sight. And nothing that signified any other kind of habitation on this island.
‘That’s handy, then, isn’t it?’
It was rather, Jesse thought a little hysterically. As was the fact that the very security-conscious owner had made his sumptuous villa—the only dwelling on the island—practically impregnable once you were within the alarmed fence … which was where she needed to get Luc Sanchis now, so she could be assured of his location at all times.
More jerkily than she liked, Jesse moved back towards the Jeep and the driver’s side. Luc Sanchis just stood there, staring at her. Jesse’s conscience struck her hard and she had to force down the feeling. From what she’d read about him, this man was one of the least vulnerable on the planet.
She’d unearthed the infamous story of how he’d wreaked revenge on an ex-lover who had betrayed him by decimating her reputation so comprehensively that the woman had suffered a very public nervous breakdown. It had sent out a clear message to anyone who thought they could play Luc Sanchis: they couldn’t.
And yet here she was, doing exactly that.
When he didn’t immediately follow her to the Jeep, panic struck Jesse. She was no match physically for this man, and at that thought an insidious burn began in her belly, the effortless awareness she seemed to have around him intensifying.
She bit out, more caustically than she’d intended, ‘There’s nothing else on the island except the villa. You can stay here if you want, but it’ll be a long wait and it gets cold at night.’ She added, ‘We’re not under a flight path, and no boats or ships sail close to this island.’
Jesse could see his hands clench into fists. He should have looked incongruous against this backdrop, in his dark suit, shirt and tie, but he seemed to meld with the harsh rock formations in the distance. And the searing sunlight only made his olive skin seem more exotic. He’d run his hands through his hair and it was slightly tousled, giving him a devilish air.
That angry tension was practically vibrating off him now, but after a tense inner struggle that Jesse could practically feel he bit out, ‘Damn you, Moriarty.’
He ripped off his jacket, taking it in one hand, and with his other hand reached up to undo the top button of his shirt under the tie. He strode towards the passenger side of the Jeep and almost pulled the door off its hinges. It visibly sagged under his weight when he got in and sat down.
Wiping suddenly sweaty hands on her jeans, Jesse picked up her fallen sunglasses and opened her own door and got in too, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in her hand as she put the key in the ignition. The engine fired to life. When she pressed on the accelerator too hard and they jerked forward her cheeks burned under his scathing look, which she could feel like a brand on her skin.
Taking a deep breath, Jesse navigated the Jeep out of the airfield and onto the one very narrow road which led around to the other side of the island and the villa.
Luc’s hand was clenched tight around the handle above the door. The Jeep felt like a prison cell—compounded by the fact that he wasn’t in the driving seat. He hated not driving unless he was in the back of his chauffeur-driven car. He winced as Jesse changed gear and they screeched. The Jeep was new and luxurious, but his long legs were still cramped. He was uncomfortably aware of how stretched out her legs had to be to reach the pedals.
She was like a doll. He imagined that he could wrap one hand all the way around one taut jean-clad thigh. Her hands were tiny on the steering wheel. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up, revealing slim arms and slender wrists.
Luc felt himself turning so he could scrutinise her even closer, almost unaware of what he was doing. The top button of her shirt was open, revealing pale skin at the bottom of her throat and long neck. The seat belt cut across her chest, making the small swells of her breasts appear more prominent.
Suddenly her head turned and she cast him a quick suspicious glance. ‘What are you looking at?’
With more effort than he cared to admit he dragged his gaze up to see pink cheeks and those long-lashed dark grey eyes. He noticed that her lips were soft and surprisingly full—especially the bottom lip. Luc felt very peculiar for a fleeting moment, and then cursed himself and swung back to face the road.
‘A way out,’ he muttered acerbically, telling himself that this awareness of her was a pure side effect of the extraordinary circumstances. He could feel the shock wearing off, and suddenly thought of something.
He looked back at her grim profile and tried not to notice her stubborn chin or the straight line of her nose. Crossing his arms across his chest, he sat back against the door and regarded her. ‘I’m expected in Switzerland
for a meeting at the economic forum; people will already be wondering where I am and asking questions. My security staff on the ground there will be mounting a search as soon as I don’t arrive.’
Jesse’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She could see the huge wrought-iron gates of the villa up ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. She really didn’t want to have the next part of this conversation in a confined space when she needed all her concentration. Her driving wasn’t assured at the best of times.
She ignored Luc Sanchis and once they were through the gates pressed a button in the Jeep which activated their closure behind them. Finally she felt a little bit more secure.
The driveway was a steep climb up to the villa, which rested on a high rocky outcrop overlooking the sea. On either side a wall of lush bougainvillaea bushes with pink and purple flowers lined the route.
She saw out of the corner of her eye that Luc Sanchis had glanced back too, to see the gates close, and felt a fresh wave of enmity coming from him.
The villa that came into view was a stunning example of the old style—nothing jarring or modern. The classic, elegant lines of the two-storey house drew the eye down to floor level, with three long French windows and a patio. Wooden shutters were painted a faint eggshell, offset by walls painted a warm cream colour. Traditional terracotta tiles on the roof were faded from the sunlight. Trees and bushes slightly obscured the steps leading up to a green lawn, which led to the patio outside the French doors.
Gravel crunched under the wheels of the Jeep as Jesse bypassed the steps up to the patio and drove to the main door. A glorious profusion of flowers bloomed everywhere from pots and trellises. But Jesse was blind to the magical beauty of the place.
