SHEIKH ZAGEO bin Sultan Al Farrahn was not amused. Not only had there been criminal trespassing in the walled grounds of this family propertyâhis motherâs pleasure palace on the legendary spice island of Zanzibarâbut also criminal use of the private harbour by a drug-running French yachtsman who was actually offering him a woman to warm his bed in exchange for letting him go.
Did the sleazy low-life think he was speaking to the kind of man whoâd indulge in indiscriminate sex?
âSheâs very special,â the drug-dealer pleaded with all the oiliness of a practised pimp. âA genuine strawberry-blonde. Hair like rippling silk, falling to the pit of her back. Beautiful, bright, blue eyes. Lush breastsâ¦â His hands shaped an hourglass figure. âFantastic legs, long andâ¦â
âA virgin, as well?â Zageo cut in mockingly, despising the man for thinking he could trade his whore for his own freedom, for thinking the trade could even be an acceptable possibility.
âCompletely untouched,â Jacques Arnault instantly replied, a consummate liar, not so much as a flicker of an eyelash nor the twitch of a facial muscle to betray any unease with the question, despite the impossibility of there being anything virginal about a woman who had to be his partner in crime.
âAnd where is this precious pearl?â Zageo drawled, barely holding back his contempt for a man who was prepared to sell flesh to save his own skin.
âOn my yacht. If you get your security peopleââ he glanced nervously at the guards whoâd caught him ââto take me out to it, they can fetch her back to you.â
While he silently sailed away in one hell of a hurry!
Zageo gave him a blast of scepticism. âOn your yacht? Youâve managed to sail from the Red Sea, down half the east coast of Africa to this island, without being tempted to touch this fabulous jewel of femininity?â
The Frenchman shrugged. âStupid to spoil top merchandise.â
âAnd where did you get this top merchandise?â
âPicked her up from one of the resorts where she was working with a dive team. She agreed to help crew the yacht for free passage to Zanzibar.â His mouth curved into a cynical smile. âA drifting traveller who could go missing indefinitely.â
âA fool to trust you with her life.â
âWomen are fools. Particularly those with an innocent turn of mind.â
Zageo arched a challenging eyebrow. âYou take me for a fool, as well?â
âIâm being completely straight with you,â came the swift and strongly assertive assurance. âYou can have her. No problems.â His gaze flicked around the lavishly rich and exotic Versace furnishings in the huge central atrium which had always served as the most public reception area. âWith all you have to offer, I doubt youâd even have to force her. Unless you enjoy force, of course,â he quickly added on second thoughts.
Anger burned. âYou are breaking another law, monsieur. The slave trade was abolished in Zanzibar over a century ago.â
âBut a man of your standing and influenceâ¦whoâs to question what you do with a woman no one knows? Even if she runs away from youâ¦â
âEnough!â Zageo gestured to his security guards. âPut him in a holding room. Have his yacht searched for a woman. If there is one onboard, bring her to me.â
Arnault looked alarmed as two of the guards flanked him to escort him elsewhere. He spoke quickly in anxious protest. âYouâll see. Sheâs everything I said she is. Once youâre satisfiedâ¦â
âOh, I will be satisfied, monsieur, one way or another,â Zageo silkily assured him, waving his men to proceed with the execution of his orders.
Zageo doubted the woman existed, certainly not with all the attributes ascribed to her by Jacques Arnault. He suspected the Frenchman had been dangling what he thought would be a tempting sexual fantasy in the hope of getting back to his yacht and somehow ditching the men escorting him. Even though the security guards carried guns, a surprise attack might have won him time to escape.
However, if there was a female accomplice, she had to be brought in and handed over to the appropriate authorities. While she might not have been actively involved in drug-dealing, there was no way she couldnât know about it and would surely be able to supply useful information.
He relaxed back on the thronelike sofa, reached over the elaborately rolled armrest to pick up the mango cocktail heâd previously set down on the entwined monkeys table, and sipped the refreshing drink slowly as the anger stirred by the Frenchmanâs attempt to use sexual currency turned onto Veronique, who had declined the invitation to accompany him on this trip.
âYour mind will be on business, cheri,â she had prettily complained. âIt will not be fun.â