nothing on Ambrus.”
His gaze rested briefly on hers. “That’s not strictly true. There’s an unfinished resort on the northern headland.”
The yacht rounded a point and sailed into calmer water. Lilah stared at the curve of the beach ahead and the tumbled wreckage of the old pearl facility, which had been destroyed in the Second World War. It was, literally, a bombsite. In a flash, Spiros’s odd behavior and his hurried exit made sense. Zane had planned this. She gestured at the looming beach. “I didn’t agree to that. You said two days. Paradise.”
Zane throttled back on the engine. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about the scenery.”
An instant flashback to the heated few minutes on Zane’s couch made her blush. “I didn’t exactly find paradise in your hotel room.”
“There wasn’t time. If you’ll recall, you ran out on me.”
Her jaw firmed. When she had landed on Medinos her life had been firmly under control. Somehow in the space of an hour everything had gone to hell in a handbasket again. “I’m booked in at the Atraeus Resort. That’s where I’m staying for the next few weeks.”
“You agreed. Two days.” His jaw tightened. “Or did you want another media furor when Lucas arrives tomorrow?”
She stared at the tough line of his jaw. The dazzling few moments in the customs interview room when she’d been weak enough to allow him to kiss her replayed in her mind. That had been her first mistake. “I assumed you were taking me to my suite at the Atraeus Resort.”
“I apologize for the deception,” he said bluntly, although there was no hint of apology in his gaze. “I’ll take you to Medinos in two days’ time. Once Lucas leaves.”
She stared at the deserted stretch of coastline then back at the distant view of Medinos. She had wanted out of the media circus and she had wanted peace and quiet. It looked like now she was getting both, with a vengeance. “Is there power, an internet connection?”
“There’s a generator. No internet.”
“Then we need to go back to Medinos. I’ll be missed. People will be concerned. Questions will be asked.”
Zane frowned. “Who, exactly, is going to ask these questions?”
Lilah stared fixedly at the horizon, aware that the conversation had drifted into dangerous waters. “I have … friends.”
“It’s only two days.”
A little desperate now, Lilah tried for a vague look. “Online friends. I need to keep in touch.”
Zane’s gaze was unnervingly piercing. “And being away from an internet connection for two days is an issue?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to be drawn. “It could be.”
After the disappointment with Lucas she had felt an urgency to move along with her marriage project and had committed to a series of dates with her list of potentially perfect husbands. Howard had only been the first. Up until that moment she had been too busy with making arrangements to leave Sydney, and preparing herself for a new life and a new job, to stop and think about the upcoming series of dates she had arranged for a scheduled holiday back home in two weeks’ time.
The sound of the engine changed as they neared shore. The reality of what was happening sank in as the huge, deserted sweep of the crescent bay underlined their complete isolation. “You’re kidnapping me.”
Zane’s brows jerked together. “That’s a little dramatic. We’re staying at a beach house where we can spend some time together, uninterrupted.”
Against all the odds her heart thumped wildly at his bad-tempered, rather blunt statement, which definitely indicated a desire to keep her to himself. She guessed she could excuse him, although not right away.
He had kidnapped her.
She clamped down on the dizzying delight that he wanted her enough to actually commit a crime. After Zane’s behavior in Sydney and her misery when he had failed to come after her, it was a scenario she hadn’t dared consider.
The engine dropped to a low hum. Zane stabbed at a button. The rattle of a chain cut through the charged silence as he dropped anchor.
Lilah watched the grim set of Zane’s shoulders as he studied the chain for a few seconds to make sure the anchor had taken hold. “I suppose on Medinos, trying to get a conviction against an Atraeus is impossible.”
Zane went very still. When he straightened, she realized the faint shaking of his shoulders was laughter. He grinned, suddenly looking rakish. “Not impossible, just highly improbable.”
The inflatable boat scraped ashore on the pristine white-sand beach. With a fluid movement, Zane climbed out and held it steady against the wash of waves. Ignoring the hand he offered her, Lilah clambered over the side, shoes in one hand, handbag gripped in the other.
Ankle-deep water splashed her calves, surprisingly cold as she stepped onto the firmly packed sand at the shoreline. With muscular ease, Zane pulled the inflatable higher on the beach, unwound rope and tied it to an iron ring attached to a weathered post.
Shielding her eyes from the sun, which was almost directly overhead, Lilah examined the bay. Beyond the post was an expanse of tussock grass interspersed with darker patches of wild thyme and rosemary. Farther back, and to the right, she could see, following the broad curve of an estuary, the remains of sheds. To the right, flanked by a grove of gnarled olive trees, was the ivy-encrusted remnant of what must have once been a grand villa. She instantly knew that this had to be Sebastien Ambrosi’s villa. Sienna and Carla Ambrosi’s grandfather had left Medinos in the 1940s and settled in Broome, Australia, where he had reestablished the Ambrosi Pearls business. “The house looks smaller than I imagined.”
“You knew Sebastien Ambrosi?”
“My mother used to work for him in Broome, seeding and grading pearls. He was very kind to us.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve always been fascinated by Ambrosi Pearls, and I’ve always longed to see Ambrus.”
While Zane unloaded their cases, she walked along the beach. From here nothing was visible except the misty line where sea met sky, no land, no Medinos or any other island, just water and isolation.
She studied the Atraeus beach house, which was set back into a curve in the jagged cliffs. Built on three levels, it wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, a cottage. Planes of glass glinted in the sun. The teaklike wood and the jutting curves and angles gave it the appearance of a gigantic ship flowing out of the rock. Sited higher than the beach, it no doubt commanded a magnificent view.
“Are you all right?”
She whirled. “You’re holding me prisoner. Other than that, I guess everything is just fine.”
Any hint of amusement winked out of his gaze. “You are not a ‘prisoner.’ I’ve asked a Medinian couple, Jorge
