Ice Storm - Anne Stuart [85]
“It didn’t seem to hurt your future employment prospects any,” she said.
His smile was cool and deadly. “There’s always employment for a man with my skills and moral…flexibility. I’d be more than happy to give you names, positions of President Busanovich’s advisors, but like the president himself, they’re all dead, and Mauritzia is discovering the wonders of democracy. I like to think in my own modest way I contributed to that.” His tone was mocking.
“Next you’ll be telling me that you were saving the world with your incompetence.”
He shrugged. “You could look at it that way. I’m afraid Fouad Assawi was a bit more determined than some of my previous employers. Which is why I decided to throw myself on the mercy of the Committee.”
She said nothing, closing the lid to her laptop.
“If you’re done with that do you mind if I check my e-mail?” he said, sitting up. “I was bidding on a couple of things on eBay and I wanted to see if I won—”
“Oh, shut up. You’ve probably never been on eBay.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. There’s quite an interesting bit of black market trade going on—you just have to know how to find it.”
“And what’s the e-mail for—online dating services?” Her voice was caustic.
“No, princess. I’ve already got you.”
She stood abruptly, needing to get away from him. “As a matter of fact, we don’t have Internet service in here. No cell phone service, either—we’re completely cut off. The walls are lined so that nothing, not even a telecommunications signal, can get in or out.”
“Then how are you going to know what to do with me?” he said lazily.
“The door still works, if you know where to find it and how to open it. If you don’t know the codes you’ll die, but Peter doesn’t make mistakes like that.”
“Which is why he walks with a limp nowadays.” Killian swung his legs over the side of the sofa, stretching, and she moved back, skittish.
It was too much to hope he hadn’t noticed her retreat. And responded. He came toward her, and she told herself she wouldn’t back up, but her feet moved, anyway, until she ended up against one of the blanketed walls, and there was nowhere else to go. He was standing too close to her, and she couldn’t remember ever being so intensely aware of another human being. “That means no one would hear you scream,” he said softly. “No one would come to your rescue. You’re just as trapped as I am.”
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t waver, her gaze was clear and steady, and even if her heart was racing there was no way he could know that.
He put his hand against her neck, cradling her throat with his long fingers. “Your pulse is too fast, Isobel. Are you afraid of me?”
“No. I don’t feel anything at all.”
He moved his face closer, his mouth hovering just over hers, and it took everything to keep her lips from trembling. “Are you lying, princess?” He was stroking her throat, the roughened pads of his fingertips brushing against her soft, vulnerable skin. “I think you’re lying to me.”
He could tighten his hand, crush her larynx and she’d drown in her own blood. He could move his mouth a fraction of an inch closer and kiss her.
Or he could step back, away from her, releasing her from the prison of his cool gaze. “If we’re finished for now I think I’ll take a shower,” he said, dropping his hand.
“There should be new clothes in the bedroom. Our people are good about such things.” Her voice was only slightly husky—most people wouldn’t notice. She didn’t make the mistake of thinking Killian was most people, but her control was good enough, considering the circumstances.
“I’d suggest you join me, but I can imagine your reaction.”
“I’ve already had a shower.