by Lily Harlem
“Poor young man.” Mum gave a shake of her head.
“Indeed,” Ty said.
I noticed his thigh twitching as if he was tapping his foot beneath the table.
“Did you stress the importance of the case to Hans?” I asked Dad, resisting the urge to place a comforting hand on Ty’s leg.
“I did, sweetheart.” He smiled.
“Good,” I said. “Thanks.”
“So this could turn out really well for James and his family,” Ty said. “Thank you so much, sir, for taking time out of your busy schedule for him.”
“It wasn’t just for James’ sake,” Dad said, glancing between Mum and me. “A positive outcome to this unfortunate situation has become important to us too.”
I gulped and stared numbly at the menu, praying that Dad wouldn’t elaborate or Ty quiz him about the meaning of his last statement. Where that conversation could go was anyone’s guess.
“Are you ready to order?”
I glanced up at a tall, suited waiter smiling around the table, his pen and notebook at the ready.
“Oh yes, please,” I said quickly.
After we’d placed our orders, Mum leaned around me and looked at Ty. “Which part of Australia are you from?”
“I grew up in Perth but then went to university in Sydney.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit Perth,” Mum said. “What’s it like?”
“It’s isolated, surrounded by thousands of miles of nothing but outback, the most remote city in the world I believe, geographically.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be,” Dad said, nodding. “You went to Perth on your trip last year, didn’t you, Penny?”
I nodded and took a sip of the wine that had just been poured. I needed it. Every breath I took held a hint of Ty’s citrus-fresh aftershave and beneath that top layer of scent I could smell him, just a little, just enough to remind me of the addictiveness of his body when hot with sex and frantic with desire.
Boy, have I got it bad.
“Penny took a whole year out to travel,” Mum said then gave a small frown. “Well, in fact, it turned out to be more than a year in the end, didn’t it, dear?”
“Yes, nearly eighteen months,” I said, fiddling with the polished silver cutlery.
Dad’s face tensed. “Yes, shame you hadn’t just called it quits at seventeen months. You wouldn’t have had to go through what you did at the hands of that monster.”
I willed myself not to look at Ty. The uncomfortable prickling over my skin intensified and I was grateful for the high neckline on my dress, because I knew without looking my chest would be pink and blotchy.
“Yeah, definitely,” Phil muttered, folding his arms and glancing out the window at the decorated boats floating on the river.
The pause in conversation extended. This time Dad’s last words were impossible to dismiss. Ty had to comment, otherwise he would appear rude, deaf or ignorant.
He cleared his throat. “Um, what do you mean monster?” he asked, then took a big swig of his wine.
“An evil brute who, if I ever get my hands on him, will die a very slow and excruciatingly painful death.” Dad paused as if settling his emotions. “Tell me, Ty, do you think my daughter is beautiful?” He lifted both his hands as if presenting me.
“I do, sir, very much.” Ty cast his gaze downward.
“Look at her,” Dad said sternly.
My breath hitched at his snapping tone.
Ty turned to me. I saw uncertainty in his eyes, but also the same softness I felt in my own heart whenever I looked at him.
“She is very beautiful,” Ty said quietly. “Perfect, in fact.”
“Absolutely perfect,” Dad said, “and beautiful inside and out. So tell me, what kind of sick thug would cut off her hair and send it in the post to me with threats of adding bone, blood and flesh to the next parcel?”
I automatically touched my patch of spiky stubble and my fingers tingled at the thought of them being sent through Royal Mail.
Ty’s gaze went to my hairline. “I don’t know what kind of person could possibly do that, sir.” His tanned cheeks had paled.
“And,” Dad said, “what kind of maniac, irrational son of a—”
“Richard,” Mum interrupted.
“Sorry,” Dad said, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth. “What kind of thug would steal my baby, drug her, take her away and hold her to ransom? And that’s without even mentioning the damn torture picture.”
“It was hardly torture,” I said with a groan.
“Stop being so brave. A picture speaks a thousand words and I could see by your eyes that you were terrified. The pain in my soul will never go away from seeing you like that.”
“Richard, please, calm down,” Mum said, glancing at Phil.
Phil topped up Dad’s empty wineglass.
“I’m fine,” Dad said, taking a deep breath and reaching across the table for my hand.
With my heart thudding, I rested my fingers in his palm. He closed his fist and squeezed me tight.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and controlled. “But the thought of someone holding you captive, treating you any way other than with the utmost respect is the most sickening thing I can think of. Your mother and I created you, we have treasured you for the last twenty-three years. I will protect you and I will hunt down anyone I see as a threat to you.”
“I know, Daddy.”
“It sounds like you’ve had a rough time,” Ty said.
“Yes, it has been pretty awful.” Mum rested her hand on my shoulder. “Horrific for Penny, of course, but as parents the worry and guilt is a heavy burden to bear too.”
I withdrew my hand from Dad’s. He smiled and reached for his wine.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Ty said. “Just goes to show that having money and status brings its own problems.”
“I guess.” I shrugged.
He smiled gently at me. “If there was something I could do to make it all better for you I would.”
“If James is released it will be the end of my ordeal. We have to hope for that.”
“What do you mean the end of your ordeal?” Ty raised his brows, feigning incomprehension.
“Because this…brute, who keeps threatening me, taking me, is making demands on James’ behalf.”
“Really?” Ty gave an excellent expression of shocked surprise.
“Yes, really,” Dad chipped in. “The police can’t work out what connection he has with James Hill. Like I told you earlier, he’s an older guy, graying, English accent, Penny says, but there is no one of that description known to James as far as his family are aware.”
“Perhaps he’s just a human rights fanatic who hears of an unjust case and gets involved,” Ty said. “Someone who likes the drama.”
Mum tutted. “Who knows, but whoever he is, he’s a man of low and foul morals and the sooner he has no interest in Penny the better.”
“As long as another case doesn’t pop up that he decides to fight for,” Phil said.
“Mmm, that did go through my mind,” Dad said, giving Phil a worried frown. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Ty nodded. “Yes, let’s hope that our way, and by that I mean the correct legal channels, brings about James’ release, or at the very least takes away the threat of the death sentence. And after today I think we can all dare to be a little more positive about the future.”
Dad relaxed his shoulders and lifted his glass. He smiled around the table. “Yes, let’s raise a toast to positive thinking.”
“And to James,” Ty said, clinking the rim of his glass with Dad’s.
As he shifted forward slightly, his knee brushed mine under the table and stayed connected. I raised my own glass and relished the heat and solidity of his leg. In my mind that small, hidden connection of our bodies was like an intricate pathway of communication. I nudged him gently only to receive a slight acknowledgment in return.
“Du
ck foie gras with raspberry brandy?” a waiter asked at my side.
“Oh, yes please, lovely,” Mum said, smiling.
A flurry of waiters surrounded the table, each proffering forward plates of delicious food. I was relieved the conversation had been interrupted. Dad’s distress blurted out in front of my kidnapper was excruciating. Goodness only knew what was going through Ty’s mind. Guilt? Triumph? Regret? Victory?
“Apparently this river flows for three hundred kilometers,” Mum said when the waiters melted away.
“Really,” Phil said, glancing out. “Hell of a journey on one of those little chug boats.”
“They’re water taxis,” Ty said. “And the owner would no doubt be delighted if you commissioned him to show you the entire length of the river, which to be precise, is three hundred and seventy-two kilometers. These guys are so poor it’s unbelievable.”
“Mmm, the economic situation here is not good,” Dad said, tucking into his lobster.
The conversation moved to a discussion about the wealth of Thailand and its exports and imports. Dad had great plans for improving the fair trade agreements for the farmers in the north of the country. This seemed to fascinate Ty and he contributed to the conversation intelligently, unlike me, for although I could chat about foreign trade law and policy, for some reason tonight my mind wasn’t quite following.
We finished our third course with a discussion about the Great Wall of China. Phil had walked a considerable length of it in his younger days and Ty had also visited.
A teapot was wheeled out on a silver trolley and a waiter poured five teas into tiny white cups with triangular handles.
“It’s getting late,” Dad said. “I think I’ll have this then head up to the room.”
“Yes,” Mum replied. “I’ll join you. It’s been a long day.”
Ty reached for the sugar bowl, dropped a small white cube into my tea then passed the bowl to Phil.
My heart tripped over itself. The flush that had tormented me earlier raged over my chest and up my neck again. My eyes would hardly focus as I stared at the telltale ripple on the surface of the tea.
What the hell has Ty just done?
I didn’t need to look to know Phil’s eyes were on me. I could feel them burning into my face. The man didn’t miss a damn thing and for once I wished he was sloppy and incompetent.
“Please let me settle up the bill,” Ty said.
“Goodness, no, I won’t hear of it,” Dad said. “Our treat, we’ve enjoyed your company.”
I risked a glance at Phil. He was rubbing his finger on his bottom lip, his gaze narrowed on Ty.
I thought about nudging Ty, warning him to be super careful, but there was no point, he clearly hadn’t realized he’d done anything wrong. Dropping that sugar into my tea had come naturally to him. But that very familiarity was the problem.
How the hell would he know I took sugar?
Unless we weren’t complete strangers.
“Perhaps, Mr. Tipping,” Ty said, “if it is okay with you, I could ask Penny to share a nightcap with me in the bar next door? I noticed a sign in the lobby saying they’re hosting a jazz band tonight.”
Mum’s face lit up. “Oh yes, I think that would be lovely, don’t you, Penny?”
“I, um, yes, sure,” I said, glancing at Phil again.
He sat back in the chair, folded his arms and studied me.
“Absolutely,” Dad said, “of course it’s fine. You young people have so much more energy than us old ones, go and have fun.” He grinned then looked at Phil, confirming the plan.
Phil nodded. “No problem.” He shifted his gaze to Ty. “But just so you know, I’ll be around, to keep an eye on Penny.”
There was an undercurrent in his tone. I struggled to guess exactly what. Was it a warning, was it confusion? Either way, Phil would have to be handled with extreme care. We couldn’t afford another slip-up.
As Ty and I stepped into the Bamboo Bar, the gentle jazz and the dim lighting settled my mood. A couple of minutes alone with Ty before Phil appeared again would be like a breath of fresh air.
“What would you like to drink?” Ty asked as we drew up at the bar.
“Not tea,” I said, resting my purse on the shiny surface.
He looked confused.
“You didn’t even notice yourself do it, did you?”
“Do what?”
“In front of everyone you dropped a sugar cube into my tea, as if you did that every day for me.”
His jaw tightened. “Shit, did I?”
“Yes, Phil saw.”
“Fuck.” Ty rested his elbow on the bar and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “Do you think he’ll say anything?”
“I don’t know, but the man has hawk eyes so don’t do anything like that again, okay?”
“But—”
“Don’t sweat it. If he does bring it up I’ll just say you must have seen me put sugar in my tea when we were at the embassy this morning.”
“But I didn’t, I put sugar in your tea last night, in your room.”
“I know, but we’ll just have to hope Phil’s memory isn’t that good, won’t we? One slip we can get away with, two will land us in big trouble.” I glanced at a hovering barman who was looking at us expectantly.
“Two champagnes, please,” Ty said.
I sat on the barstool to my left. It had zebra print upholstery and a curved back. As the slit in my tight dress revealed my slim, tanned thigh I noticed Ty’s gaze slip down my body.
“Well, apart from that,” Ty said, licking his lips, “today has been a massive step in the right direction, a great success.”
“Success maybe isn’t quite the right word from my point of view. I just about had a heart attack when I saw you with Hans Richmond this morning.”
He looked up and grinned wickedly. “Yeah, sorry about that, I didn’t exactly have time to tell you when we woke up.”
“Mmm, something tells me even if we’d had time you still wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
He raised his brows and the devilish smile on his lips told me I was right.
“Your face was a picture,” he said, “and I have to say, you looked damn hot in that tight little skirt, and I could just make out a hint of white lace through your silky blouse.” He glanced around and dipped his head to mine. “I’d like to check out that lacy bra in detail some time…with my tongue.”
I struggled to control a shiver of desire. “Mmm, well, it won’t be tonight, that’s for sure. My parents are happy for us to have a drink because they want me to date nice young men, but I think they would have issues with you hopping into my bed. They’re kind of old-fashioned like that.”
“Nothing wrong with old-fashioned, and just for the record, when I’m not involved in kidnap and blackmail, I am actually quite a nice young man. They might even approve of me.”
The burgeoning emotion in my chest grew a little more. “I know you’re nice, more than nice, and I think they already approve of you.” I was fighting an internal battle not to lean over and kiss him. My lips actually tingled with the need to press against his. I had to knot my fingers in my lap to stop myself from touching him.
He swallowed, shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his feet. “It’s a damn shame they’re old-fashioned though, because I’ve been so hard for you all day and a night in your bed would have been just the cure.”
I smiled teasingly. “You were hard even through dinner?”
“Especially through dinner. Jesus, why do you have to wear such a damn sexy dress when you know I have to keep my wits about me?”
The barman set two flutes before us, the tiny champagne bubbles leaping upward and bursting in a fine mist.
“Charge it to room 802, please,” Ty said.
The barman nodded and moved away.
“Huh, I thought you were taking me for a nightcap, not the other way ‘round?” I said.
“Yeah, sorry, baby, I’m many things and one of them is poor. I
spent the last of my travel funds on the plane ticket to England, and I’ve had to take a loan from my father to get here, pay for the hostel and buy this cheap suit. Thank goodness your dad didn’t take me up on the offer of paying for dinner, I would have had to run for it.” He picked up his drink and glanced over my shoulder. “Phil has just settled himself near the door.”
I clinked the rim of my glass to his. “Just ignore him, but at the same time, remember we’re not supposed to know each other, okay?”
He grinned, one of his devastatingly sexy smiles that balled his cheeks, creased the skin around his eyes and made my insides melt.
“Yes, miss, I’ll try and act as though I don’t know how good it is to have my cock inside you, and I’ll pretend that I’ve never heard that sweet little gasp you make when you come, or…” His voice lowered further and he leaned toward me. “That we haven’t shared a first ass experience together.”
I gulped back a huge glut of bubbles and squirmed on my chair. I didn’t think it was humanly possible to be any more infatuated with another person. Any more turned-on or any more desperate to rip someone’s clothes off and ride them all night until I collapsed with exhaustion. It seemed it was, every moment that passed I fell for Ty a little more.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.
I listened to the languid jazz number playing and noticed several other couples swaying on the small dance floor.
“I think we could just about get away with that,” he said. “Providing, of course, you don’t rub yourself all over me until I lose control.”
“Now that would definitely give the game away,” I said, slipping from the stool.
He offered his arm and I took it. The need to touch him, the need for connection was growing by the second.
As we walked to the dance floor, I was hyperaware of Phil. It was annoying, this sense of his presence. He’d been around Dad for years and I’d hardly noticed him, but today it was oppressive, irritating, and I wished he’d disappear and leave me alone.
