The Sultan's Virgin Bride. Sarah Morgan

forward to speak to his driver and then turned back towards the woman who was trying to open the car door. ‘Enough of playing games. I’m going to make you my wife, Farrah. And then I’m going to take you to my bed and keep you there for as long as it suits me.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      FARRAH sat in one of the soft leather seats inside his private jet, her slim body tense with panic as she struggled to find a way out of the current situation. She ignored the staff who discreetly provided for her every need and ignored Tariq who sprawled, relaxed and infuriatingly calm, in the seat next to her.

      She was just so angry with him. He was high-handed, controlling, dictatorial—Her brain thumping with anger, she ran out of adjectives before she could compile a decent list.

      But most of all she was furious with herself. How could she have got herself into this position?

      How could she have forgotten what he was like?

      He was arrogant and autocratic and used to dictating his desires to an audience of followers whose only purpose in life was to do his bidding.

      It had been foolish of her to provoke him, she knew that now.

      When he’d half flung her into the back of his limousine, she’d been so angry and churned up inside that all her emotions had been focused on him, rather than the situation. She’d given no thought whatsoever to where they were going.