# Hostage Of The Hawk

Sandra Marton

Heaven In His Arms… ?Khalil claimed that he never took what wasn't offered! But despite that claim, wasn't Khalil a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted? Kidnapped and held prisoner by Khalil, Joanna determined to escape. But she hadn't counted on this "Hawk of the North" fulfilling all her secret desires.Now Joanna had to discover if Khalil was simply using her as a political pawn. Or should she hope that the "hawk" wanted something more from her… ?

## Hostage of the Hawk. Sandra Marton


www.millsandboon.co.uk

## CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

## CHAPTER ONE

THE cry of the muezzin rose in the warm evening and hung trembling over the crowded streets of Casablanca. Joanna, listening from the balcony of her hotel suite, felt a tremor of excitement dance along her skin. Not that there was really anything to get excited about. While the hotel was Moroccan in décor, it was the same as hotels everywhere.

Still, she thought as she put down her cup and leaned her crossed arms on the balcony railing, it was wonderful to be here. This part of the world was so mysteriously different from the life she knew. She felt as if she had stepped back in time.

‘Jo!’

Joanna sighed. So much for stepping back in time. Her father’s angry bellow was enough to bring her back to the present with a bang.

‘Jo! Where in hell are you?’

And so much for the mystery of Casablanca, she thought as she straightened and turned towards the doorway. She was used to Sam Bennett’s outbursts—who wouldn’t be, after twenty-six years?—but she felt a twinge of sympathy for whatever poor soul had made him this angry. Jim Ellington, probably; Sam had been on the phone with his second in command, which meant that Jim must have done or said something that displeased him.

‘It’s about time,’ he snapped when she reached the bedroom. ‘I’ve been calling and calling. Didn’t you hear me?’

‘Of course I heard you.’ Her father was glaring at her from the bed where he lay back against a clutch of squashed pillows, his ruddy face made even redder by the pain in his back and his bad temper. ‘Half the hotel must have heard you. I take it there’s a problem?’

‘You’re damned right there’s a problem! That stupid Ellington—he screwed things up completely!’

‘Well, that’s no surprise,’ Joanna said pleasantly. She plumped the pillows, then took a small vial from the nightstand and dumped two tablets into the palm of her hand. ‘I tried to tell you not to rely on him, that he was the wrong person to deal with this idiotic Eagle of the East.’

‘Hawk,’ Sam said grumpily as he took the tablets from her. ‘Prince Khalil is called the Hawk of the North.’

‘Hawk, eagle, east, north—what’s the difference? It’s a stupid title for a two-bit bandit.’

Sam grimaced. ‘That “two-bit bandit” can end Bennettco’s mining deal with Abu Al Zouad before it starts!’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Joanna said. She poured some orange juice into a glass and offered it to Sam. ‘Abu’s the Sultan of Jandara—’

‘And Khalil’s been harassing him for years, stirring up unrest and trouble whenever he can.’

‘Why doesn’t Abu stop him?’

‘He can’t catch him. Khalil’s as sly as a fox.’ Sam smiled grimly, then gulped down the juice and handed back the glass. ‘Or as swift as a hawk. He swoops down from the northern mountains—’

‘The mountains Bennettco wants to mine?’

‘Right. He swoops down, raises hell, then escapes back to his mountain stronghold, untouched.’

‘He’s more than a bandit, then,’ Joanna said with a little shudder. ‘He’s an outlaw!’

‘And he’s opposed to the deal we’ve struck with Abu.’

‘Why?’

‘Abu says it’s because he’s opposed to our bringing in Western ways.’

‘You mean, he’s opposed to our bringing in the twentieth century,’ Joanna said with a grimace.

‘Whatever. The point is, he’ll do everything he can to keep Bennettco out. Unless we can change his mind, we might as well pack up and go home.’

‘I still don’t understand. Why can’t Abu simply have Khalil arrested and—?’ Her brows lifted as her father began to chuckle. ‘Did I say something funny?’

‘Have him arrested!’ Sam’s laughter grew, even though he clutched at the small of his back. ‘Have pity, Jo! It hurts when I laugh.’

‘I’m not trying to amuse you, Father,’ Joanna said stiffly. ‘I’m just trying to understand why this man isn’t in prison if he’s an outlaw.’

‘I told you, they can’t catch him.’

Joanna’s brows lifted. ‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ she said drily, ‘Khalil can be “caught” this very moment at a hotel on the other side of Casablanca.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I told that to Abu.’

‘Well, then—’

‘He doesn’t want to cause an international dispute with the Moroccan government. This is their turf, after all.’ Sam sighed and fell back against the pillows. ‘Which brings us back to square one and that dumb ass Ellington. If only I could get out of this bed long enough to make that dinner meeting—’

‘When we left New York, you made it sound as if this meeting were pro forma.’

‘Well, it is. I mean, it should have been—if I hadn’t pulled my back.’ Sam’s mouth turned down. ‘I know I could have finessed the hell out of Khalil—and now Ellington’s managed to make a bad situation worse.’

‘I’ll bet Ellington obeyed you to the letter, phoned your regrets about tonight’s meeting, and said he’d dine with Khalil in your place.’

‘You’re darned right he obeyed me.’ Sam glared at her. ‘If he wants to keep his job, he’d better!’

‘It’s what everybody who works for you does,’ Joanna said mildly, ‘even if your orders are wrong.’

‘Now, just a minute there, Joanna! What do you mean, my orders were wrong? I told Ellington to tell the Prince that something had come up that I couldn’t help and—’

‘You insulted him.’

‘What?’

‘Come on, Father! Here’s this—this robber baron with an over-inflated ego, gloating over the fact that he’s got Sam Bennett, CEO and chairman of the board of Bennettco, over a barrel. He’s probably been counting the minutes until tonight’s meeting—and then he gets a call telling him he’s being foisted off on a flunky.’

‘Don’t be foolish! Ellington’s my policy assistant.’

‘It’s a title, that’s all, and titles are meaningless.’ Joanna sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Who would know that better than an outlaw who calls himself a prince?’

‘I already know we’re in trouble, Jo! What I need is a way out.’

‘Take it easy, Father. You know what the doctor said about stress being bad for your back.’

‘Dammit, girl, don’t fuss over me! There’s a lot at stake here—or have you been too busy playing nursemaid to notice?’

‘I am not a “girl”.’ Joanna got to her feet, her gaze turning steely. ‘I am your daughter, and, if you weren’t so determined to keep me from knowing the first thing about Bennettco, I wouldn’t have to ask you all these questions. In fact, I might have been able to come up with some ideas that would have gotten you off the hook tonight.’

‘Listen, Jo, I know you have a degree in business administration, but this is the real world, not some ivy-covered classroom. It’s Ellington who let us down. He—’

‘You should have told Ellington to tell Khalil the truth, that your back’s gone out again.’

‘What for? It’s nobody’s business that I’m lying here like an oversized infant, being driven crazy by you and the hotel doctor!’

‘Contrary to what you think,’ Joanna said coolly, ‘being sick isn’t a sign of weakness. Khalil would have understood that he wasn’t being insulted, that you had no choice but to back out of this meeting.’

Sam glared at her, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe.’

‘What did you plan on accomplishing tonight?’

‘For one thing, I wanted to eyeball the bastard and see for myself what Abu’s been up against.’

‘And what else?’

Sam grinned slyly. ‘He may resent us dealing with Abu—but I bet he won’t resent a deal that has some under-the-table dollars for himself in it.’

A frown creased Joanna’s forehead. ‘You mean, Bennettco’s going to offer him a bribe?’

‘Baksheesh,’ her father said. ‘That’s what it’s called, and you needn’t give me that holier-than-thou look. It’s part of doing business in this part of the world. It just has to be done delicately, so as not to offend the s.o.b.’ Sam sighed deeply. ‘That was the plan, anyway—until Ellington botched it.’

‘Have you any idea what, exactly, he said to the big pooh-bah?’

‘To Khalil?’ Sam shook his head. ‘Ellington didn’t even talk to him. He spoke to the Prince’s aide, a guy named Hassan, and—’

‘His first mistake,’ Joanna said with crisp self-assurance. ‘He should have insisted on speaking with the Prince directly.’

‘He tried, but Hassan says Khalil doesn’t deal with underlings. Underlings, can you imagine?’ Sam chuckled. ‘The only good part of this is imagining Ellington’s face when he heard that.’

‘What did Ellington say then?’

‘The conversation was all Hassan’s after that. He made some veiled threats, said if Sam Bennett wasn’t interested enough to deal with Khalil man to man, Khalil wouldn’t be responsible for what might happen.’

‘That’s insane! He can’t be fool enough to think he can ride down on our crews with his band of cut-throats—can he?’

‘Maybe—and maybe not.’ Sam grunted with displeasure. ‘Hell, this meeting was the key to everything! I just know that if I could have met face to face with this Khalil I’d have been able to convince him that Bennettco—’

‘We still can.’

‘How? I just told you, Khalil won’t meet with Ellington.’

‘But he might meet with me,’ Joanna blurted.

She hadn’t planned those words, but once she’d said them her heart began to pound. Sam’s prideful stubbornness, Ellington’s blind adherence to orders and the arrogance of a greedy bandit with a fancy title had set in motion a series of events that might make all the difference in her life.

Sam laughed, and Joanna looked up sharply.

‘Right,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’m supposed to send my daughter to meet with a barbarian. Do I look like I’m crazy, Jo?’

‘Come on, Father. He’s not exactly a barbarian. Besides, I’d be meeting him for dinner, in a fancy restaurant. I’d be as safe as if I were dining in my suite.’

‘Forget it. The great Khalil doesn’t deal with underlings.’

‘Maybe he’d feel differently about someone named Bennett, someone with a vested interest in Bennettco.’ Joanna looked at her father, her voice strengthening as her idea took shape. ‘Someone who could identify herself as not just her father’s daughter but Bennettco’s vice-president.’

Sam scowled darkly. ‘Are we back to that?’

‘We never left it. Here I am, your only offspring, somebody who grew up as much in the field as in the office—’

‘My first mistake,’ he grumbled.

‘Here I am,’ Joanna said evenly, ‘the only person who knows as much about business as you do, my university degree clutched in my hand, and you absolutely refuse to let me work for you.’

‘You do work for me. You’ve been my hostess in Dallas and New York since you were old enough to carry on a conversation.’

‘That,’ she said dismissively.

‘Yes, that! What’s wrong with “that”, for lord’s sake? Any girl in her right mind would grab at the chance to—’ Joanna’s brows lifted and Sam put his hand to his heart. ‘Forgive me,’ he said melodramatically. ‘Any woman in her right mind would be perfectly happy to—’

‘Stanford Mining’s offered me a job,’ Joanna said softly.

‘They did what?’

She walked to the bureau and leaned back against it, arms folded over her breasts. She’d never meant to tell her father about the offer this way; she’d planned on working up to it, using it as the final link in a well-conceived argument designed to convince him, once and for all, that she wanted more than to be a beautifully dressed figurehead, but she knew in her bones that now was the moment.

‘The manager of their Alaskan operation is leaving. They asked if I might be interested.’

Sam’s face darkened. ‘My own daughter, working for the competition?’

‘The key word is “working”, Father. I’ve told you and told you, I’ve no intention of spending the rest of my life like some—some over-age débutante.’

‘And I’ve told you and told you, I didn’t work my tail off so my daughter could get her hands dirty!’

‘I’m not asking you to let me work in the field,’ Joanna said quickly. ‘Even I know better than to expect the impossible.’

‘Joanna.’ Sam’s voice softened, took on the wheedling tone she knew so well. ‘I need you doing just what you’ve been doing, baby. Public relations is important, you know that. Having your name listed on the committee for charity benefits, getting your picture in the paper along with the Whitneys, Rockefellers and Astors—’

‘You’re wrong about the importance of that stuff, Father, but if it matters to you so much I can hold down a job and still manage all the rest.’

Sam gave her a long, hard look. ‘Are you serious about taking the job with Stanford?’

Until this moment, she had only been serious about considering it—but now she knew that she would accept the offer rather than go on playing the part her father had long ago assigned her.

Joanna nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes locked with his, ‘I am.’

They stared at each other while the seconds passed, Joanna’s emerald gaze as unwavering as her father’s pale blue one, and finally he sighed.

‘Do you really think you could get this guy Khalil to agree to meet with you?’

A little thrill raced through Joanna’s blood but she was careful to keep her expression neutral.

‘I think I could have a good shot at it,’ she said.

‘By telling him you’re my daughter?’

‘By telling him the truth: that you’re ill but that this meeting is too important to miss. By telling him I’m your second in command, that everything I say has your full support and backing.’

Sam pursed his lips. ‘That simple, hmm?’

Nothing was ever that simple, Joanna knew, not in business, not in life, and surely not in this place where custom vied with progress for dominance. But this was no time to show any hesitation.

‘I think so, yes.’

She waited, barely breathing, while Sam glowered at her, and then he nodded towards the phone.

‘OK.’

‘OK, what?’ Joanna said, very calmly, as if her pulse weren’t racing hard enough so she could feel the pound of it in her throat.

‘Call the Prince’s hotel. If you can get past that watchdog of an aide, if Khalil will talk to you and agree to meet with you in my place, you’ve got a deal.’

Joanna smiled. ‘First let’s agree on the terms.’

‘I’m your father. Don’t you trust me?’

‘You’re my father and you raised me never to sign anything without reading it twice.’ She saw a glimmer of a smile in Sam’s eyes as she held up her fisted hand. ‘Number one,’ she said, raising her index finger, ‘I get a vice-presidency at Bennettco. Number two, it’s a real job with real responsibilities. Number three—’

Sam threw up his hands. ‘I know when I’m licked. Go on, call the man. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.’

Joanna’s smile blazed. ‘Just watch me.’

Her father reached out, took a notepad from the nightstand, and held it out to her. ‘Here’s the phone number. It’s direct to Khalil’s suite.’

Joanna nodded and reached slowly for the phone. She would have preferred to make this call from the other room instead of here, with her father watching her every move, but Sam would be quick to pounce on that as a sign of weakness.

‘Good evening,’ she said to the operator, then read off the number on the notepad. Her stomach was knotting but Sam’s gaze was unwavering and she forced a cool smile to her face as she sank into the bedside chair, leaned back, and crossed her legs. The phone rang and rang. Maybe nobody was there, she thought—and at that moment, the ringing stopped and a deep voice said something in a language she couldn’t understand, except for the single word ‘Hassan’.

Joanna clasped the phone more tightly. ‘Good evening, Mr Hassan,’ she said. ‘This is Joanna Bennett. Sam Bennett’s daughter.’

If Hassan was surprised, he covered it well. ‘Ah, Miss Bennett,’ he said in impeccable English, ‘I am honoured. What may I do for you?’

‘Well?’ Sam said impatiently. ‘What’s he saying?’

Joanna frowned at him. ‘How are you enjoying your stay in Casablanca?’ she said into the phone.

‘The city is delightful, Miss Bennett, as I’m sure you agree.’

Joanna touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘And the Prince? Is he enjoying his stay, as well?’

‘Dammit,’ Sam hissed, ‘get to the point! Is Khalil there, or isn’t he?’

‘Indeed,’ Hassan said pleasantly, ‘my Lord Khalil has always had a preference for this city.’

Joanna took a deep breath. Enough pleasantries. It was time to get down to business.

‘Mr Hassan,’ she said, ‘I should like to speak with the Prince.’

Hassan’s tone hardened. ‘I’m afraid that is out of the question, Miss Bennett. If you have a message for him, I shall be happy to deliver it.’

Joanna’s hand began to sweat on the phone. Her father was still giving her that same steadfast look and a self-satisfied smile was beginning to form on his lips.

‘Give it up, baby,’ he said quietly. ‘I told you you couldn’t pull it off.’

‘Mr Hassan,’ Joanna said evenly, ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand. I want to assure the Prince that the only reason for the change in plans is because my father is ill. As for Mr Ellington—I’m afraid he misunderstood my father’s instructions. The Prince will be dining with my father’s representative, whom he trusts completely and holds in the highest esteem.’ Joanna looked at Sam. ‘Vice-president Jo Bennett.’

‘One moment, please, Miss Bennett,’ Hassan said.

Joanna felt a rush of hope. She smiled sweetly at Sam. ‘He’s going to put the Prince on,’ she said, and hoped that her father couldn’t see her crossed fingers.

* * *

Across town, in the elegant royal suite of the Hotel Casablanca, Prince Khalil glared at his prime minister.

‘What sort of man is this Sam Bennett,’ he growled, ‘that he asks his daughter to telephone me and beg on his behalf?’ He folded his arms across his chest, his dark blue eyes glinting like sapphires in his tanned, handsome face. ‘Bennett is worried,’ he said with satisfaction as he leaned his hard, six-foot frame against the wall.

‘Precisely, my lord. He must be ready to bend to your will or he would not have ordered a woman to act as his agent.’

‘Only a fool would bring his daughter on such a trip,’ Khalil said with disdain. ‘The woman must have thought Casablanca would be an exotic playground in which to amuse herself.’

Hassan’s grizzled brows lifted. ‘Of course, my lord. She is, after all, of the West.’

Khalil grunted in assent. ‘What does she want?’

‘To speak with you.’ Khalil laughed and Hassan permitted himself a smile. ‘I told her, of course, that was not possible, and then she said Sam Bennett wishes tonight’s dinner meeting to take place.’

‘Ah.’ Khalil’s hard mouth curled with the shadowy beginnings of an answering smile. ‘Bennett has decided he wants to keep our appointment now?’

‘He is ill, sire, or so the woman claims, and wishes to send an emissary. I suspect it is an excuse he uses to save face.’

Khalil strode forward. ‘I do not meet with emissaries, Hassan.’

Hassan dipped his head in respect. ‘Of course, my lord. But her offer is interesting. The emissary is Joe Bennett, a vice-president of the company.’

Khalil’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who? I have never heard of such a person.’

Frowning, Hassan took his hand from the telephone and spoke into it. ‘We have no knowledge of this person who would meet with Prince Khalil, Miss Bennett. Is he related to your father?’

‘Mr Hassan, if I could just speak with the Prince—’

‘The Prince does not speak with underlings, and he surely does not meet with them,’ Hassan said coldly. ‘If you wish to answer my questions, I will transmit the information to my lord. Otherwise, our conversation is at an end.’

‘Jo,’ Sam said, ‘give it up. You’re not gonna get to first base with this guy.’

Joanna swung away from her father. ‘Jo Bennett is hardly an underling, Mr Hassan.’

‘Jo,’ Sam said, his voice gaining authority, ‘did you hear me? Give it up. You took a shot and you lost.’

‘Miss Bennett,’ the voice in her ear said sharply, ‘I asked you a question. Who is Joseph Bennett? Is he Sam Bennett’s son?’

Joanna swallowed, shut her eyes, then opened them. ‘Yes,’ she said into the telephone, praying that the Prince would forgive the deception after she convinced him that there’d be enough money in this deal to make him happy, ‘yes, that’s right, sir. He is.’

‘A moment, please.’ Hassan put his hand over the mouthpiece again and looked at the Prince. ‘The man you would dine with is the son of Sam Bennett.’

Khalil glared at his minister. ‘A son,’ he snarled, ‘a young jackal instead of the old.’ He stalked across the elegant room, turned, and looked at Hassan. ‘Tell the woman you will accept a meeting with her brother. Perhaps my judgement is wrong. Perhaps the son has some influence on the father. At any rate, you can convey my message clearly: that I will not be ignored in this matter!’

Hassan smiled. ‘Excellent, my lord.’ His smile fell away as he tilted the phone to his lips. ‘Miss Bennett.’

Joanna blinked. ‘Yes?’

‘I, Adym Hassan, Special Minister to His Highness Prince Khalil, will meet with your brother tonight.’

Joanna clutched the cord tighter. ‘But—’

‘Eight o’clock, as planned, at the Oasis Restaurant. As they say in your world, take it or leave it, Miss Bennett.’

‘Jo?’ Sam’s voice rose. ‘Dammit, Jo, what’s he saying? He’s turning you down flat, isn’t he?’

Joanna hunched over the phone. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘eight o’clock. That will be fine. Thank you, sir.’ She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned to her father. ‘You see?’ she said briskly. ‘That wasn’t so hard after all.’

‘He’s meeting with you?’ Sam said doubtfully.

Joanna nodded. ‘Sure. I told you he would.’

Sam blew out his breath. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘OK. Now, let’s figure out how to get the most mileage we can out of tonight.’ He looked at his daughter and a grin spread over his face. ‘Not bad, kid,’ he said, ‘not bad at all.’

‘It’s not “kid”,’ Joanna said with an answering smile. ‘It’s Vice-President Jo Bennett, if you don’t mind.’

Vice-President Joseph Bennett, she thought, and gave a little shudder. Things were going to get interesting when Special Minister Adym Hassan found out he’d been lied to.

* * *

Halfway across the city, Special Minister Hassan was already thinking the same thing.

‘I am suspicious of Bennett’s motives, my lord,’ he said to Prince Khalil as he hung up the phone. ‘But we shall see what happens. The woman’s brother will meet with me tonight.’

Khalil nodded. ‘Good.’ He turned, walked slowly across the room, and stood gazing out the window as if he could see beyond the city to the hills that marked the boundary of his kingdom. Sam Bennett was a sly, tough opponent; it was more than likely his son would be the same. Too sly and too tough for Hassan, who was loyal and wise and obedient but no longer young. How could he let the old man meet with Bennett? If he’d learned one thing these past weeks, it was that dealing with anybody named Bennett was like putting a ferret in charge of the hen house.

Khalil spun away from the window. ‘Hassan!’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘I have changed my mind. I will meet with Sam Bennett’s son myself.’

Hassan looked startled. ‘You, sir? But—’

‘There are no “buts”, Hassan,’ Khalil said sharply. ‘Call down for some coffee and lay out my clothing.’ He smiled tightly, the sort of smile that chilled those who knew him well. ‘I promise you this, old man. One way or another, tonight will change everything.’

* * *

It was Joanna’s thought, too, as she sat beside her father, only half listening as he droned on about tonight’s agenda.

One way or another, she knew in her bones that her life would not be the same after this night ended.

Afterwards, she would remember how right she’d been.

## CHAPTER TWO

WHAT did you wear to a dinner meeting with a Hawk of the North?

Not that she’d be dining with the great man himself, Joanna thought wryly as she peered into the wardrobe in her bedroom. Her appointment was with Hassan, Special Minister to Prince Khalil, although what a bandit needed with a minister was beyond her to understand. Their conversation had been brief but it had been enough to give her a good idea of what he’d be like.

He’d be tall and angular and as old as the hills that lay beyond the city. The skin would be drawn across his cheekbones like ivory papyrus. His eyes, pale and rheumy with age, would glitter with distaste when he saw her and realised that she was Joanna Bennett, for he lived in a world in which female equality was unheard of.

Joanna smiled tightly as she riffled through the clothing hanging inside the wardrobe.

How would she convince him to continue the meeting, once her deceit was obvious?

‘Surely, the great Khalil wishes prosperity for his people,’ she’d begin, ‘and would not wish you to refuse to meet with someone who can provide it.’ Then, as distasteful as the prospect was, she’d dig into her purse, take out the envelope with the numbered Swiss bank account her father had established, and slide it gently across the table.

After that, Hassan wouldn’t care if she were a man, a woman or a camel.

* * *

Joanna glanced at her watch as she stepped from her taxi. Eight o’clock. Her timing was perfect. She put her hands to her hair, checking to see if the pair of glittery combs were still holding the burnished auburn mass back from her face, then smoothed down the skirt of her short emerald silk dress. She’d hesitated, torn between a Chanel suit and this, the one cocktail dress she’d brought with her, deciding on the dress because she thought the suit might make her look too severe, that it would be enough of a shock for the minister to find himself dealing with a woman without her looking like that kind of woman.

The doorman was watching her enquiringly and she took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and walked briskly towards him. She was nervous but who wouldn’t be? Everything she wanted—her father’s approval, the vice-presidency at Bennettco—hung on the next couple of hours.

‘Masa el-kheyr, madam.’

Joanna nodded. ‘Good evening,’ she said, and stepped through the door.

Soft, sybaritic darkness engulfed her, broken only by the palest glow of carefully recessed overhead lighting and flickering candlelight. Music played faintly in the background, something involving flutes and chimes that sounded more like the sigh of wind through the trees than anything recognisable to her Western ear.

‘Masa el-kheyr, madam. Are you joining someone?’

The head waiter’s smile was gracious but she wondered if he would continue smiling if she were to say no, she wasn’t joining anyone, she wanted a table to herself.

‘Madam?’

Joanna gave herself a little shake. The last thing she needed was to get herself into an antagonistic mood.

‘Yes,’ she said pleasantly. ‘My name is Bennett. I believe there’s a reservation in my name.’

Was it her imagination, or did the man’s eyebrows lift? But he smiled again, inclined his head, and motioned her to follow him. There was an arched doorway ahead, separated from the main room by a gently swaying beaded curtain. When they reached it, he drew the curtain aside and made a little bow.

‘The reservation request was for as private a table as possible,’ he said.

Joanna nodded as she stepped past him. A private alcove. That would be better. At least, she and Hassan wouldn’t have to deal with—

A man was rising to his feet from the banquette. Joanna’s eyes widened. He was thirty, perhaps, or thirty-five, tall, with a lithe body and broad shoulders contained within a finely tailored English suit. Her gaze flew to his face. His eyes were shockingly blue against his tanned skin. His nose was straight, his mouth full and sensuous. And he was smiling.

Joanna’s heart gave an unaccustomed thump. Lord, he was gorgeous!

She smiled back, flustered, then turned quickly to the head waiter.

‘I’m terribly sorry, but there must be an error.’

‘Yes.’ The man had spoken, and she looked back at him. His smile had grown, tilting a little with intimacy and promise. ‘I’m afraid the lady is right.’ His voice was soft, smoky, and lightly tinged with an indefinable accent. ‘If I were not expecting a gentleman to join me—’

The head waiter cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, sir. I believe you said you were waiting for a Mr Joseph Bennett.’

‘Yes, that’s right. I am.’

‘Then there’s been no error, sir. This is the gentleman—uh, the lady—you were waiting for.’

Joanna’s eyes flew to the man’s face. They stared at each other in silence. This was Hassan, Minister to Prince Khalil? Oh God, she thought, as she saw his expression go rapidly from surprise to disbelief to fury, and she stepped quickly forward and shot out her hand.

‘Mr Hassan,’ she said with a big, determinedly cheerful smile, ‘what a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jo Bennett.’

He looked at her hand as if it were contaminated, then at her.

‘If this is an example of Western humour,’ he said coldly, ‘I should warn you that I am not amused.’

Joanna swallowed, dropped her hand to her side, and fought against the desire to wipe the suddenly damp palm against her skirt.

‘It’s not a joke, no, sir.’

Sir? Sir? What was going on here? Was she really going to permit this—this arrogant minister to a greedy despot to reduce her to a deferential schoolgirl? It was one thing to be nervous, but it was quite another to let the balance of power be stripped from her without so much as a whisper. Whether Mr Hassan liked it or not, they were here on equal footing. The sooner she reminded him of that, the better.

Joanna lifted her chin and forced a cool smile to her lips.

‘I am Joanna Bennett,’ she said calmly. ‘And I can understand that you might be a bit surprised, but—’

‘Where is Sam Bennett’s son?’

‘I’m his son.’ Joanna shook her head. ‘I mean, he has no son, Mr Hassan. I am—’

‘You are his daughter?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are Joe Bennett?’

‘Joanna Bennett. That’s right. And—’

He swung towards the head waiter. ‘Bring me the bill,’ he snapped. ‘For my apéritif, and for whatever the restaurant will lose on this table for the evening.’ He snatched a liqueur glass from the table, drained its contents, slammed it down, and made a mocking bow to Joanna. ‘Goodnight, Miss Bennett.’

Open-mouthed, she stared after him as he strode towards the beaded curtain, still swaying delicately from the waiter’s exit, and then, at the last second, she stepped out and blocked his path.

‘Just a minute, Mr Hassan!’

‘Step aside, please.’

It was the ‘please’ that was the final straw. The word was not offered politely, but was, instead, tossed negligently at the floor, as one might toss a bone to a dog. Joanna drew herself up.

‘And what will you tell Prince Khalil, Mr Hassan?’ Joanna slapped her hands on her hips. ‘That because you were narrow-minded, old-fashioned, petty and stupid—’

The dark blue eyes narrowed. ‘I advise you to watch your tongue.’

‘And I advise you to use your head,’ Joanna said sharply. ‘Prince Khalil sent you here to meet with me.’

‘I came here to meet with Sam Bennett’s son.’

‘You came to meet with his emissary, and that is precisely what I am!’

A muscle knotted in his cheek. ‘Whose idea was this subterfuge? Ellington’s? Or was it your father’s?’

‘There was no subterfuge meant, Mr Hassan.’

His smile was swift and chill. ‘What term would you prefer? Deception? Trickery? Perhaps “fraud” has a finer ring.’

‘At the worst, it’s just a misunderstanding.’

He rocked back on his heels and folded his arms over his chest. ‘Please, Miss Bennett, don’t insult me with games of semantics.’

‘I’m simply trying to explain why—’

‘What sort of misunderstanding could possibly have led to your thinking I would even consider discussing your father’s greedy plans for my country with you?’

His disdain, his contemptuous words, were like a bucket of iced water. Joanna met his harsh gaze with unflinching directness.

‘Wrong on all counts, Mr Hassan. For starters, I did not wish to discuss anything with you. It was Prince Khalil I wished to meet this evening, remember? As for greed—it is not my father who’s standing in the way of progress and betterment for the people of Jandara, it’s your high and mighty ruler.’

Hassan’s brows lifted. ‘An interesting description of the Prince, Miss Bennett. Clearly, your father didn’t send you on this errand because of your subtlety.’

Joanna knew he was right. Her words had been thoughtlessly spoken but to back down now would be a mistake.

‘He sent me because I have his trust and confidence,’ she said. ‘And if my honesty offends you, I can only tell you that I see little value in not being as direct as possible.’

An unpleasant smile curled across his mouth. ‘How readily you use the word “honesty”—and yet here you stand, having lied your way into my presence.’

‘I did no such thing! I am who I said I was, Jo Bennett, the vice-president at Bennettco.’

‘And we both know that if you had identified yourself properly, this meeting would not have taken place.’

‘Exactly.’ Joanna smiled thinly. ‘I’m glad you admit it so readily. You and the Prince would have turned your noses up at the very idea of discussing business with a woman.’

‘Typical Western nonsense,’ he sneered. ‘A woman, taking a man’s name, trying to pretend she can do a man’s job.’

‘I haven’t taken anything,’ Joanna said coldly. ‘”Jo” is short for Joanna. As for a woman trying to pretend she can do a man’s job—I don’t know how to break this to you, but women don’t have to “pretend” such things any more, Mr Hassan. In my country—’

‘Your country is not mine,’ he said, his tone rife with contempt.

‘It certainly isn’t. In my country—’

‘In Jandara, those who lie do not break bread with each other.’

Joanna glared at him. ‘It isn’t my fault you assumed Jo Bennett was a man.’

‘I don’t recall you attempting to correct that assumption, Miss Bennett.’

Anger overcame her. ‘If I didn’t,’ she said, stepping forward until they were only inches apart, ‘it was because I knew your boss would react exactly the way you are at the prospect of a woman representing Bennettco. No wonder my father’s gotten nowhere all these weeks! Trying to deal with a—tyrant is like—like...’

The rush of words stopped, but it was too late. He smiled slyly as she fell silent.

‘Please, Miss Bennett, don’t stop now. You’ve called Prince Khalil a tyrant, a chauvinist—I can hardly wait to hear what else you think of him.’

What was she doing? She’d come here to further her cause, to succeed in a tricky endeavour and convince Sam that she was capable of carrying her weight at Bennettco, and instead she was alienating the Hawk of the North’s right-hand man with terrifying rapidity. She took a deep breath, let it out, and pasted a smile to her lips.

‘Perhaps—perhaps I got carried away.’

The Prince’s emissary smiled tightly. ‘You may not be given to subtlety but you surely are given to understatement. Referring to m—to the Prince as a dictator is hardly—’

‘I never called him that!’

His brows lifted. ‘But you think it.’

‘Certainly not,’ she said, lying through her teeth. Of course she thought it. If this—this overbearing, arrogant, insolent pig of a man was the Prince’s minister, she could only imagine what the Prince himself must be like. ‘Besides, my opinion of your Prince is no more important than your opinion of me. You and I have lost sight of the facts, Mr Hassan. We are representatives, I of my father, you of Khalil. I doubt if either of them would be pleased if we reported back that we’d cancelled this meeting because we’d gotten off to a bad start.’

Her smile did nothing to erase the scowl from his face. ‘Perhaps we’ll simply tell them the truth, that we cancelled it because I resent having been made a fool of.’

He had a point. Much as she hated to admit it, she had twisted the facts to suit her own needs. She’d lied to him, lied to her father. And if Sam found out...

‘Well?’ She blinked. He was staring at her, his expression as unyielding as stone, his eyes cold. ‘What do you say to that, Miss Bennett?’

‘I say... I say...’ Joanna swallowed hard. Go for broke, she thought, took a deep breath, and did. ‘I say,’ she said, her eyes meeting his, ‘that you have every right to be annoyed.’

His scowl deepened. ‘The start of another bit of trickery?’

Colour flared in Joanna’s face but she pressed on. ‘I admit I may have stretched the facts, but I haven’t lied. I do represent my father. I have his every confidence and I’m fully authorised to act on his behalf. I know you have a problem dealing with me, but—’

But, he thought impatiently, his eyes on her face, but! She was good at suggesting alternatives, this Joanna Bennett. She had insulted him, apologised to him, and now she was doing her best to convince him her father had Jandara’s best interests at heart—but for what reason? Why had Sam Bennett sent her? She kept insisting she was Bennettco’s representative, but what man would be fool enough to believe that?

His gaze moved over her slowly, with an insolence born of command. She kept talking, although her skin took on a rosy flush, and that amused him. Why would a woman like this colour under his gaze? Surely she was not innocent? She was a beauty, though, perhaps more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. What she couldn’t know was that her beauty meant nothing to him. Despite what Joanna Bennett thought she knew of him—or of the man she believed him to be—he had long ago wearied of beautiful faces and bodies that hid empty souls. He preferred his women with strength and character, individuals in their own right, not the pampered lapdogs Western women so often were.

The logical thing to do was to tell her that she and her father had wasted their time, that he was not Hassan but Prince Khalil, that he was not interested in whatever game it was they were playing.

But if he did that, he would not learn what game it was. And that, surely, was vital.

‘I still fail to see why your father sent you to this meeting, Miss Bennett,’ he said sharply, ‘unless he thought you could succeed where others had failed simply through the element of surprise.’

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Joanna blurted, ‘I’m as surprised as you are. I thought you’d be—I thought...’

‘Yes?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What did you think?’

Joanna stared at him. That you’d be a million years old, she thought, that you’d be a wizened old man... His voice. His voice had sounded old on the telephone. Hadn’t it? Maybe not. She could remember little of their conversation except how desperate she’d been to make him commit to this meeting—this meeting that she was on the verge of ruining, unless she used her head.

‘I thought,’ she said carefully, ‘we’d be able to sit down and discuss our differences face to face.’

He smiled tightly. ‘But not man to man.’

‘The bottom line,’ Joanna said, ignoring the taunt, ‘is that we—that is, Prince Khalil and Bennettco—do have differences.’

‘Yes. We do, indeed.’ His voice hardened. ‘Bennettco thinks it can ignore Khalil and deal only with Abu—’

‘Abu Al Zouad is the King of Jandara,’ Joanna said with an icy smile, ‘or has your Prince forgotten that little item?’

‘He is not the King, he is the Sultan,’ Khalil said sharply, ‘and surely not Khalil’s.’

‘Abu is the recognised leader of your country, and he has guaranteed Bennettco the right to mine in the northern mountains.’

Khalil’s smile was wily. ‘If that is the case, why has your father sent you to meet with me?’

‘To talk about what is best for Khalil’s people.’

He laughed, this time with such disdain that it made Joanna’s spine stiffen.

‘You spout nonsense, Miss Bennett. That is hardly the issue we’re here to discuss.’

At least the man was blunt, Joanna thought grimly. ‘Very well, then,’ she said. ‘My father’s sent me to talk about what will most benefit Bennettco—and what will most benefit your Prince, which is why your unwillingness to listen to what I have to say surprises me, Mr Hassan. This meeting is in Khalil’s best interests, but—’

‘Sir?’ They both spun towards the curtained doorway. The head waiter was standing just inside it, smiling nervously. ‘The bill, sir.’

Khalil looked at the silver tray in the man’s hand, then at Joanna. She was right. It would be foolish of him not to find out what tricks her father had up his sleeve, even if it meant enduring her company.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will give you an hour, and not a moment more.’

Joanna nodded. She was afraid to breathe or even to answer for fear this impossible man would change his mind again and walk out.

Khalil nodded, too, as if they had made a pact, then looked towards the waiter.

‘Bring us the meal I ordered,’ he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

‘Certainly, sir.’

‘Be seated, Miss Bennett.’

Be seated, Joanna thought as she slid into the padded banquette, just like that. No ‘please’, no attempt at courtesy at all. It was ludicrous. He’d already ordered dinner, even though she’d reserved the table. The man was impossible, arrogant and imperious and—

‘So.’ She looked up. He had slid into the booth opposite her and he was watching her intently, his eyes unreadable as they met hers. He sat back, his broad shoulders straining just a bit at the jacket of his suit, and a faint smile touched his mouth. ‘Why don’t you start our meeting by telling me about the Bennettco project?’

She did, even though she was certain he knew all the details. It would only help her make her case at the end, when it became time to ask him for assurance that he’d not try and hinder the project. She talked through the lemon soup, through the couscous, through the chicken baked with saffron, and finally he held up his hand.

‘Very interesting—but you still haven’t told me why I should permit—why my Prince should permit Bennettco to mine in the mountains?’

‘Well, first of all, the operation will bring money into Jandara. It will—it will...’ Joanna frowned. ‘Permit, Mr Hassan? I don’t think that’s quite the correct word, do you?’

‘English is not my first language, Miss Bennett, but I learned it at quite an early age. “Permit” was the word I intended.’

‘But the decision’s not Khalil’s. It’s Abu’s.’

‘Is it?’ He smiled lazily. ‘If that were completely true, you wouldn’t be here.’ He smiled lazily. ‘You’re concerned that Khalil will interfere with the project, isn’t that right?’

What was the sense in denying it? Joanna shrugged her shoulders.

‘We think he might try, yes.’

‘And have you stopped to consider why he might do that?’

‘Perhaps he hasn’t given enough thought to how much this project will benefit his people.’

The arrogance of the woman! Khalil forced his smile not to waver.

‘He is selfish, you mean?’

Joanna looked up, caught by the man’s tone. He was still smiling, but there was something in that smile that made her wary.

‘Well, perhaps he doesn’t see it that way,’ she said cautiously, ‘but—’

‘But you do, and that’s what matters.’

‘You’re twisting my words, Mr Hassan.’

‘On the contrary. I’m doing my best to get to the heart of your concerns. What else am I to tell him, apart from a warning about his selfishness?’

Joanna stared at him. Was he asking her to be more direct about the bribe money? It galled her to make such an offer but reason seemed to be failing. Sam had warned her that this was the way things were done in this part of the world, but—

‘Don’t lose courage now,’ he said coldly. ‘Be blunt, Miss Bennett. It’s why you came here, remember?’

‘Tell him—tell him we won’t tolerate any harassment of our workers.’

‘I see. You worry he might have them beaten. Or shot.’

There was a lack of emotion in his words, as if having men hurt were an everyday occurrence.

‘We are not “worried” about anything, Mr Hassan,’ she lied, her tone as flat as his. ‘This project will go ahead, no matter what your Prince does. We simply want to encourage Khalil’s co-operation.’

His nostrils dilated. He yearned to take the woman’s slender shoulders in his hands and shake some sense into her.

‘Really?’ he said, and if Joanna had not been so caught up in her own determination to succeed, if she had not already decided that the only thing that would close the deal was the enormous bribe Sam had suggested, she’d have heard the note of warning in that single word. ‘And how are you going to do that, Miss Bennett?’

Joanna gave him a look laced with contempt, then unclasped her evening bag and took out the envelope her father had given her.

‘With this,’ she said bluntly, and slid the envelope across the table towards him.

He bent his head and looked at it. His anger made the words on the paper a meaningless blur but then, what this female Judas was offering didn’t matter. She had accused him of being obstinate, selfish and despotic, and now she had sought to buy him off as if he were a common thief.

‘Well?’ Her voice was impatient. ‘Is it enough?’

Khalil silently counted to ten, first in Arabic, then in English, and then he took the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said, the words almost a purr, ‘it is enough. It is more than enough.’

She’d done it! She’d won the co-operation of the infamous Prince Khalil—well, Bennettco’s bribe had won it, which stole away most of the pleasure. Concentrate on the victory, she told herself, on what this will mean to your future...

He rose to his feet. ‘Come, Miss Bennett,’ he said softly.

Joanna looked up. He was holding out his hand and smiling. Or was he? His lips were drawn upwards, but would you really call what she saw on his handsome face a smile?

‘Come?’ she said, smiling back hesitantly. ‘Come where?’

‘We must celebrate our agreement with champagne. But not here. This place is for tourists. I will take you somewhere much more authentic, Joanna.’

Joanna? Joanna’s heart thudded. Don’t go with him, she thought suddenly, don’t go.

‘Joanna?’

That was ridiculous. She had done it, she had closed the deal her father thought couldn’t be closed. What on earth could there possibly be to fear?

Smiling, she got to her feet and gave him her hand.

He led her through the restaurant, pausing only long enough to say something to their waiter, who bowed respectfully all the way to the front door. Outside, the night seemed to have grown darker. He was holding her elbow now, his grip firm, as he led her towards a low-slung sports car at the kerb.

Suddenly, Joanna thought of something.

‘Did you say we were going to have champagne?’

He nodded as he handed her into the car, came around to the driver’s side, then slipped in beside her.

‘Of course. It’s a celebration. Why do you sound surprised?’

Joanna frowned slightly. ‘Well, I’m just—I guess I am surprised. I didn’t think your people drank wine.’

He smiled. ‘Believe me, Joanna,’ he said, ‘you are in for a number of surprises before the evening ends.’

He stepped hard on the accelerator and the car shot into the night.

## CHAPTER THREE

EVERYONE Joanna knew had had the same reaction to the news that she was going to Casablanca.

‘Oh,’ they’d sighed, ‘how incredibly romantic!’

Joanna, remembering the wonderful old Humphrey Bogart-Ingrid Bergman movie, had thought so too. But after a week she’d decided that things must have changed a lot since the days of Rick and Ilse. Casablanca was ancient and filled with history, it was beautiful and mysterious, but it was also the economic heart of Morocco which meant that in some ways it was not only prosaic, it was downright dull.

The man beside her, though, was quite another story. She gave him a surreptitious glance from beneath her lashes. There was nothing dull about him. She’d never met a man like him before, which was saying a great deal. The circles in which she travelled had more than their fair share of handsome, interesting men but even in those circles, this man would stand out.

Joanna’s gaze flew over him, taking in the stern profile, the broad sweep of his shoulders, the well-groomed hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. He seemed so urbane, this Mr Hassan, so at home in his well-tailored suit, his pricey car, and yet she could easily imagine him in a very different setting.

Her lashes drooped a little. Yes, she thought, she could see him in her mind’s eye, dressed in long, flowing robes, mounted on a prancing black stallion, racing the wind across the desert under a full moon.

‘You’re so quiet, Miss Bennett.’

Joanna’s eyes flew open. They had stopped at a light and he was looking at her, a little smile on his lips. For some reason, the thought that he’d been watching her without her knowing made her uncomfortable. She sat up straighter, smoothed her hair back from her face, and gave him a polite smile in return.

‘I was just enjoying our drive,’ she said.

She glanced out of the window as the car started forward. They were passing the Place des Nations Unies, deserted at this hour except for a solitary pair of strollers, a man and woman dressed in traditional garb, she walking barely noticeable inches behind. Like a respectful servant, Joanna thought with a grimace, or a well-trained dog...

‘She is not being obedient, Miss Bennett,’ the man beside her said, ‘she’s simply gawking at the sights.’

Joanna swung towards him. He was looking straight ahead, intent on the road.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘That couple.’ He glanced at her, an insolent smile curled across his mouth. ‘You were thinking the wife was following her husband out of custom, but I assure you, she wasn’t.’

He was right, but what did that matter? Joanna gave him a frigid look.

‘Do you make a habit of reading people’s thoughts, Mr Hassan?’

‘It isn’t difficult to read yours. You seem convinced we classify our women as property in this part of the world.’

She smiled tightly. ‘Your definition, not mine.’

He laughed. ‘A diplomatic response, Joanna—but then, your father would not have sent you on such a delicate mission if he hadn’t been certain of your ability to handle yourself well.’

Some of the tension flowed from Joanna’s posture. He was right. This had been a delicate mission, and she’d carried it off successfully. Let the Hassans and Khalils of this world have their baksheesh and bribes. What did it matter to her? She’d set out to snatch success from the jaws of defeat and she’d done it, despite the arrogant high-handedness of the man next to her.

‘You’re quite right,’ she said pleasantly, folding her hands neatly in her lap and watching as the dimly lit streets spun by, ‘he wouldn’t have.’

‘He has no sons?’

‘No.’ Her smile grew saccharine sweet. ‘I know you must think that makes him quite unfortunate, but—’

‘I suspect it simply makes him all the fonder of you.’ He glanced at her, then looked back to the road. ‘You must be very important to Sam Bennett, not only as vice-president of Bennettco but as the jewel of his heart.’

Joanna looked at him. She was neither, she thought with a little pang, not the vice-president of Bennettco nor even the jewel of her father’s heart. It was Bennettco itself that was his love, it always had been, but now that she’d pulled this off...

‘Am I right, Joanna?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes,’ she said quickly, ‘I’m as important to him as you are to Prince Khalil.’

His head swung towards her. ‘As I...?’

‘I mean, you must be very important to Khalil, for him to entrust you with negotiating such important matters.’

‘Ah.’ He smiled. ‘Of course. You are wondering if my word is Khalil’s bond.’

‘No. I wasn’t. It never occurred to me to doubt—’

‘I promise you, he will abide by my judgement.’ He looked towards her, and suddenly his smile fled. ‘I will not repudiate anything I do this night.’

Joanna’s brows rose a bit. ‘I’m sure you won’t,’ she said politely.

The man wasn’t just arrogant, he was contemptuous as well. ‘I will not repudiate anything I do this night‘! It was almost laughable. How could he say that when he was only the Prince’s minister?

Khalil would be even worse, Joanna thought with a sigh, rigid and imperious and completely egotistical. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t agreed to meet with her. As it was, she’d had difficulty holding her temper with Hassan. Heaven only knew how she’d have been able to deal with someone even ruder.

But she didn’t have to worry about that any more, she thought, permitting herself a little smile. She’d done the impossible, pulled the coup that would set her firmly on a path she’d always wanted, and if she’d have been happier managing it without pushing a bribe under Hassan’s nose, well, so what? If that was how things were done here, who was she to ask questions? She had succeeded, and now she and Hassan were going to drink a toast to their agreement.

Joanna settled back in her seat. Where was he taking her, anyway? Somewhere far from the streets she knew, that was obvious. In fact, they’d left the streets behind completely. The car was racing along a straight, narrow road that disappeared into the night.

Perhaps he was taking her to some place less Western than the restaurant where they’d dined. Perhaps, for all his seeming urbanity, he’d been uncomfortable in its sophisticated setting.

‘You’ve become quiet again, Joanna.’ Hassan stepped down harder on the accelerator and the car seemed to leap forward. ‘Have you nothing to say, now that you’ve got what you wanted from me?’

His tone was nonchalant but Joanna sensed the underlying derision in his words. She shifted into the corner of her seat and smiled politely.

‘I think we’ve each gotten something from the other,’ she said.

‘Of course. You have my promise of co-operation and I—’ He looked at her, his teeth showing in a swift smile. ‘I have the bribe you offered me for it.’

It was what she had just been thinking but hearing it from the man on the receiving end made it different. Surely people who demanded you buy them off didn’t go around admitting it, did they? And, just as surely, they didn’t make it sound as if you were the one who’d done something vile—yet that was what his tone had clearly suggested.

Joanna caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Was he still smarting over the clumsy way she’d handled the bribe offer? She knew she hadn’t done it with any subtlety, that she’d come within a breath of insulting him, something that was not done anywhere but especially not in this part of the world.

‘Everyone benefits,’ he said softly. ‘Khalil is bought off, Bennettco turns a handsome profit—and Abu Al Zouad grows fatter.’ He looked at her, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. ‘All in all, a fine arrangement, yes?’

Joanna shifted uneasily. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what it is between your Prince and the Sultan, but—’

‘Everyone benefits,’ he said again, his tone hardening. ‘Everyone—except my people.’

As if he or his mighty Prince really gave a damn, she thought angrily. But she bit back the words and offered ones that were only slightly more diplomatic instead.

‘It’s too late to have second thoughts, Mr Hassan. You gave me your word—’

‘If you intend to speak to me of honour,’ he said coldly, ‘you are wasting your time.’

Their eyes met and held. All at once, Joanna wished she were anywhere but here, in this fast car tearing through the darkness to some unknown destination.

‘I was only going to point out that we agreed on—’

‘What would you have done if I’d turned down your bribe money?’

‘Listen, Mr Hassan, if you’ve a problem with Prince Khalil’s accepting money...’ Joanna clamped her lips together. What was needed here was a touch of diplomacy, not anger. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that you were—that you should...’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not my place to make judgements, but—’

‘Of course it is. You and your estimable father both make judgements. You judged Abu Al Zouad worthy of Bennettco’s largesse, you judged Prince Khalil a man to be easily bought off—’

‘Easily?’ His supercilious tone made Joanna bristle and she spoke sharply, before she could stop herself. ‘Who are you kidding? I know how much is waiting for him in that Swiss bank account, remember?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Wait a minute. Is that what this is all about? Are you going to try and hold us up for more?’

‘And what if I did? You’d pay it. You’d pay whatever you must to get what you want.’ He shot her a look so deadly she pressed back in her seat. ‘That’s how people like you do things. Don’t waste your breath denying it!’

Joanna stared at him. What was happening here? A little while ago, he’d been all silken cordiality, and now he was treating her with an abrasive scorn that bordered on insult. He was scaring her, too, although she’d be damned if she’d ever let him know it. Well, not scaring her, exactly, that was too strong a word, but it was hard not to wish they were still seated in the civilised environs of the Oasis Restaurant.

Was that why he’d dragged her to the middle of nowhere—so he could insult her? That was certainly how it seemed. Even if he hadn’t, even if he’d been deadly serious about taking her somewhere for a glass of champagne, she had absolutely no interest in it now. All she wanted was for him to turn the car around and take her back to the city, to lights and traffic and people.

‘I’ve changed my mind about having champagne,’ she said, swinging towards him. She waited for him to answer but he didn’t. After a moment, she cleared her throat. ‘Mr Hassan?’

‘I heard you. You’ve changed your mind about drinking with me.’

‘No, I mean, it’s not that. I just—I—um—I misjudged the time earlier.’ Damn! Why was she offering an explanation? ‘Please turn the car around.’

‘I can’t do that.’

Can’t? Can’t? Joanna stared at him. ‘Why not?’

‘We are expected,’ he said.

‘You mean, you made a reservation? Well, I can’t help—’

He swung to face her suddenly, and even in the shadowy interior of the car, she could see the sharp anger etched into his face.

‘The sound of your voice annoys me,’ he said coldly. ‘Sit back, and be silent!’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’ She stared at him, waiting for him to say something, to apologise or offer some sort of explanation, but he didn’t. ‘That’s it,’ she snapped. ‘Dammit, Mr Hassan, that’s the final straw!’

‘I don’t like women to use vulgarities.’

‘And I don’t like men to behave like bullies! I’m telling you for the last time, turn this car around and take me back to Casablanca!’

He laughed in a way that made her heart leap into her throat.

‘Is that a threat, Miss Bennett?’

‘My father will be expecting me. If I’m not at the hotel soon—’

‘How charming. Does he always wait up for your return at night?’

Her eyes flew to his face. What was that she heard in his voice? Disdain? Or was it something more?

‘He’ll be waiting to hear how our evening went,’ she said quickly. ‘And unless you want me to tell him that you—’

‘Why would he do that?’ He gave her a quick, terrible smile. ‘Was there ever any doubt of your success?’

‘Of course. There’s always a chance of a slip-up when—’

‘How could there have been a slip-up, once he put you in charge of dealing with the bandit Khalil?’ The awful smile came again, clicking on, then off, like a light bulb. ‘Surely he expected you’d get the agreement for him, one way or another.’

Joanna clasped her hands together in her lap. Something was happening here, something that was beyond her understanding. All she knew was that she didn’t like it.

‘If you’re suggesting my father doesn’t have every confidence in me,’ she began, but the man beside her cut her short.

‘Confidence?’ The sound of his laughter was sharp. ‘In what? You’re no more a vice-president at Bennettco than that woman we passed in the street a while ago.’

‘Of course I am!’

‘What you are,’ he snapped, ‘is an empty-headed creature who knows nothing more important than the latest gossip!’

Colour rushed into Joanna’s cheeks. ‘How dare you?’

‘What is the name of your secretary at Bennettco?’

‘I don’t have to answer your questions!’

‘Do you even have an office there?’ he demanded.

She swallowed. ‘Not yet,’ she said finally, ‘but—’

‘You are nothing,’ he snarled, ‘nothing! Your father insults me by sending you to me.’

‘You’ve got this all wrong,’ Joanna said quickly. ‘I am his confidante. And his vice-president—well, I will be, when—’

‘What you are,’ he said grimly, ‘is a Jezebel.’

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. ‘What?’

‘I knew Bennett was desperate to hold on to his contract with that pig, Abu Al Zouad.’ His eyes shot to her face. ‘But even I never dreamed he’d offer up his daughter to get it!’

‘Are you crazy? I told you, my father is ill. That’s why he sent me to meet with you!’

‘He sent you to do whatever had to be done to ensure success.’ He threw her a look of such fury that Joanna felt herself blanch. ‘If Khalil wouldn’t accept one sort of bribe, surely he’d accept another.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Are you saying my father...are you saying you think that I...?’ She sprang towards him across the console and slammed her fist into his shoulder. ‘You—you contemptible son of a bitch! I’d sooner sleep with a—a camel than—’

She cried out as the car swerved. The tyres squealed as they clawed at the verge; the brakes protested as he jammed them on, and then he swung towards her, his eyes filled with loathing.

‘But it would be like sleeping with a camel, wouldn’t it, Miss Bennett? Sleeping with a man like Khalil, I mean.’

‘If you touch me,’ Joanna said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, ‘if you so much as put a finger on me, so help me, I’ll—’

‘You’ll what?’ His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘Scream? Go right ahead, then. Scream. Scream until you can’t scream any more. Who do you think will hear you?’

God. Oh, God! He was right. She looked around her wildly. There was darkness everywhere—everywhere except for his face, looming over hers, his eyes glinting with anger, his mouth hard and narrowed with scorn.

‘My father,’ she said hoarsely. ‘My father will—’

‘The scorpion of the desert is a greater worry to me than is your father.’

‘Surely we can behave like civilised human beings and—?’

He laughed in her face. ‘How can we, when I am the emissary of a savage?’

‘I never said that!’

‘No. You never did. But you surely thought it. What else would a greedy, tyrannical bandit be if not a savage?’ His mouth thinned. ‘But I ask you, who is the savage, Miss Bennett, the Hawk of the North—or a father who would offer his daughter to get what he wants?’

He caught her wrist as her hand flew towards his face. ‘I’ve had enough, you—you self-centred son of a bitch! My father would no more—’

His face twisted. ‘Perhaps I should have let it happen.’ He leaned towards her, forcing her back in her seat. ‘Maybe it wasn’t your father who suggested you make this great sacrifice. Maybe it was you who wanted to share Khalil’s bed—or did you think it would be sufficient to share mine?’

‘I’d sooner die,’ Joanna said, her voice rising unsteadily while she struggled uselessly to shove him off her. ‘I swear, I’d sooner—’

His lips drew back from his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘Just think what erotic delights a savage like me might have taught you. Enough, perhaps, to keep your useless New York friends tittering for an entire season!’

‘You’re disgusting! You—you make me sick to my stomach!’

His mouth dropped to hers like a stone, crushing the words on her lips. She struggled wildly, beating her free hand against his shoulder, trying to twist her face from his, but it was useless. He was all hard sinew and taut muscle that nothing would deter.

After a moment, he drew back.

‘What’s the matter?’ he said coldly. ‘Have you changed your mind about adding a little sweetening to Bennettco’s bribe offer?’

Hatred darkened Joanna’s eyes. ‘What a fool I was to think I could deal with you in a civilised manner! You’re just like your Prince, aren’t you? When you can’t get what you want, you just—you reach out and grab it!’

‘What if I said you were wrong, Miss Bennett? What if I told you that I am not a man who takes?’

Anger made her reckless. ‘I’d call you a liar,’ she snapped.

To her surprise, he laughed. ‘Which of us is the liar, Joanna? Or are you suggesting I not take what you are prepared to give?’

The look she gave him was pure defiance. ‘I offered you nothing.’

For a long moment, their eyes held. Then he smiled, and the smile sent her heart into her throat.

‘I never take that which has not been offered,’ he said, very softly.

She cried out as he reached for her again but there was no way to escape him. He caught her face between his hands, holding it immobile, and bent his head to hers. She stiffened, holding her breath, preparing instinctively for the fury of his kiss, for whatever ugly show of strength and power lay ahead.

But there was no way to prepare for the reality of what happened. His lips were soft, moving against hers with slow persuasion, seeking response.

Not that it mattered. It was a useless effort. She would never, could never, respond to a man like him, a man who believed he could first terrorise a woman, then seduce her. His hands spread over her cheeks, his thumbs gliding slowly across the high arc of her cheekbones. His fingers threaded into her hair, slowly angling her head back so that his lips could descend upon hers again—and all at once, to Joanna’s horror, something dark and primitive stirred deep within her soul, an excitement that made her pulse leap.