Raif searched her expression for dishonesty ⦠Instead he found himself drinking in her beauty.
âAnn â¦â he breathed.
When she spoke, the anger had unexpectedly left her tone, replaced by what sounded like wariness. âWhat do you want me to say, Raif?â
It wasnât what he wanted her to say. It was what he wanted her to do. And that had nothing to do with his familyâs statue.
âHow can I end this?â she asked.
He pulled his thoughts back from the brink. âGive me my statue.â
âThatâs impossible.â
Raif took a step closer, crowding her, determined to get this farce over with. âIn Rayas we would not ask so politely.â
âWeâre not in Rayas.â
âPity.â
âWhy? If we were in Rayas would you throw me in a dungeon?â
âIf we were in Rayas Iâd tie you to my bed.â
BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canadaâs far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website: www.barbaradunlop.com
Recent titles by the same author:
AN INTIMATE BARGAIN
A COWBOY IN MANHATTAN A COWBOY COMES HOME AN AFTER-HOURS AFFAIR
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
To my husband
* * *
THE HIGHEST BIDDER
At this high-stakes auction house, where everything is for sale, true love is priceless.
Donât miss a single story in this new continuity!
GILDED SECRETS by Maureen Child
EXQUISITE ACQUISITIONS by Charlene Sands A SILKEN SEDUCTION by Yvonne Lindsay A PRECIOUS INHERITANCE by Paula Roe THE ROGUEâS FORTUNE by Cat Schield A GOLDEN BETRAYAL by Barbara Dunlop
One
Ann Richardson supposed she should be grateful the Interpol agents hadnât strip-searched her and slapped on the handcuffs. But after her sixth hour in the small, stuffy, gray-walled Federal Plaza interrogation room, she couldnât muster up anything but annoyance.
Agent Heidi Shaw was back, a half-filled cardboard coffee cup in one hand, clipboard tucked under her opposite arm with a sheaf of papers Ann assumed were some kind of investigative notes. Agent Shaw was playing bad cop to Agent Fitz Lydallâs good. She was five feet even, maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet. While Fitz was two-twenty of solid muscle with a face like a bulldog and the shoulders of a linebacker. Privately, Ann thought the roles should be reversed, but she hadnât offered up that suggestion.
Either way, since sheâd watched a few detective dramas in her time, it was easy enough to see through their textbook ploy. The fact that she was innocent was also going to mess with their strategy. Psychological tricks and circular questioning were not going to trip Ann up and make her tell them she was selling a stolen antique statue on behalf of her employer, Waverlyâs Auction House.
Sheâd learned a lot about Rayasâs Gold Heart statues in the past few months. Three statues had been commissioned by King Hazim Bajal in the 1700s. They were said to bring luck in love to his daughters, whoâd been required to marry for the convenience of their royal line and their country. One of the statues was still safe in Rayas with a modern branch of the Bajal family. The other had been lost at sea when the Titanic sank. A third had been stolen five months ago from another branch of the Rayasian royal family, the one that included Crown Prince Raif Khouri. Prince Raif was convinced Roark Black had stolen the statue on behalf of Waverlyâs. The accusation was preposterous. But the crown prince was a powerful, determined man, and he had both Interpol and the FBI dancing to his tune.
Heidi set her clipboard on the scarred wood table, and scraped back the metal folding chair to sit across from Ann. âTell me about Dalton Rothschild.â
âYou donât read the tabloids?â Ann countered, giving herself a moment to consider this new line of questioning. Dalton was the CEO of Waverlyâs rival, Rothschildâs.
âI understand the two of you were close.â
âWe were friends.â Ann paused. âWere being the operative word.â Sheâd never forgive Dalton for betraying her and destroying her professional reputation. His lies about their supposed affair were one thing. But his attack on her integrity was at a whole other level.
âFriends?â Heidi mocked with obvious skepticism and disdain.
âSo, you do read the tabloids.â
âI read everything. So I know you never denied he was your lover.â
âWould you like me to deny it?â
âIâd like you to answer the question.â
âI just did,â Ann pointed out.
âWhy are you being evasive?â
Ann shifted her body on the hard metal chair. She was being honest, not evasive, and she resented the agentâs new barrage of questions. She articulated her next words slowly and carefully. âWe were friends. He lied about me. We are no longer friends.â