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I sat upright. “Egypt?”
“Yes, is that bad? That’s where one of our compounds is and I have a contact there. A good friend that I’d trust with my life.”
“No, I’ve been dying to go to Egypt for years,” I said. “That’s why I wanted to stay at the resort where we met.”
“Oh, that’s nothing close to the real thing. Egypt is a harsh and beautiful climate with more history than you could learn about in a lifetime,” he said. “But we won’t be able to venture much further than the compound.”
“Oh. I understand.”
“The compound is beautiful, princess, you won’t be suffering. It used to belong to a man who ran guns from overseas before the revolution and he spared no expense.”
“What happened to the man?” I asked, frowning.
“He got shot,” said Duran blandly. “Not for running guns, over a racing bet. My father swooped in and had it bought for the outfit for times like these. I spent several months of my boyhood there and they were one of the best summers of my life. It was where I met Ahmed.”
“Who is Ahmed to you?” I asked.
“He’s a useful contact for the outfit and a close friend to me,” Duran said. “You’ll like him, everyone does. I think he’s got a girlfriend now, an American. Anyway, he lives at the compound when he’s not traveling for work.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a little overwhelmed by everything.
“You rest now,” he said. “And don’t think or worry about anything. Not your parents, not you, not anything. I have it under control, princess.”
“Okay,” I said.
I finished my coffee in silence and curled up in the chair while Duran stared down at his phone. After a while, he let his hand fall slack and his head lolled back. I turned a little so I could watch him. He looked so much younger and more relaxed in his sleep, as though years had melted from him in an instant. His chest rose and fell and the hint of hair on his chest above his collar caught my attention as it always did.
My mind shifted back to the other night when he’d asked me for sex again. Even though my refusal had been automatic, my mind wasn’t as resistant to the idea as before. Perhaps this impulsive, passionate man was beginning to wear down my defenses after all. Or perhaps I was beginning to want what he offered more now that I knew him better, now that I trusted him.
The thought of lying beneath him while he had his way with me made my nipples harden beneath my shirt and my face flush. Would it be pleasurable the first time? Or would it just cause me pain? He was large and I’d never had anything bigger than a tampon anywhere near that part of my body. The thought sent a shiver of fear and excitement through me and I wrapped my arms around myself. Perhaps I should stick to my plan to save myself for marriage, despite my newly waning commitment to it.
I fell asleep despite the adrenaline and coffee coursing through me. When I woke I could hear Duran speaking rapid Italian to someone on the phone. My neck ached in protest as I untangled myself and sat up, my mouth dry and my eyes bleary. I could tell we’d landed and I got to my feet, stretching my back and heading to the window.
It was dark outside and there were overhead lights shining over a concrete landing strip. I couldn’t see any further than the end of the strip, but there was a black windowed car parked at the bottom of the stairs with an armed man standing by the passenger door.
Duran pocketed his phone. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
He took my hand and pulled me against him, one hand holding the door shut, and kissed me. His lips were gentle and his tongue was hot as it swiped over my mouth. The bottom of my stomach flipped and a flush ran up my throat and face. He pulled back, a slight smile playing over his face as he turned and pushed the door open.
I followed him down the stairs. To my left was complete blackness beyond the periphery of the lights and to my right were faint glimmers in the distance, as though there was a town just a few miles away. The air smelled different, hot and very dry.
I climbed into the car and nestled against the wall, enveloped in the warm darkness surrounding us. Duran sat opposite me, his gun just visible at his hip, and kept his eyes fixed on the window as we began to move.
We drove for almost thirty minutes until I felt the road change beneath the car’s tires, becoming more bumpy. Then we paused and Duran rolled down the window and spoke in Italian to someone outside and I heard the hiss and clang of electric gates opening. The road smoothed out and flickers of light came into view up ahead, drawing closer by the minute.
We drew up to an enormous, modern compound that stood two stories and had a great curved archway leading to the front door. The car pulled around a fountain in the front and paused at the bottom of the stairs and Duran alighted onto the pavement. He held out his hand and I took it, letting him guide me from the car.
“We have a few servants here to take our bags in and get them set up,” he said. “Let’s go up to our room and have a bath.”
“Our room?” I said, following him up the stairs.
“I want you close,” he said. “For protection.”
I didn’t protest because the sight on the other side of the front door took my breath away. Everything was opulent, Egyptian-style decor in the most beautiful shades of red, black, and gold. From the ornately carved hallway table to the arching ceiling painted and hung with glass lamps to the tiles beneath our feet, everything was a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and beauty.
“Do you like it?” Duran asked.
