‘A scumbag…’
‘The lowest of the low,’ she drily explained.
‘Ah!’ One eyebrow arched in wicked challenge. ‘And what of the highest of the high, Miss Ross? Where does your measure start for a man to be accepted into your bed?’
The highest of the high…
Emily’s heart catapulted around her chest.
He was speaking of himself. Had to be. Which made this question far too dangerous to answer. If he actually did want to be accepted into her bed…the speculative look in his eyes was making her toes curl.
Emily quickly reached out to pick up some tasty tidbit from the table to stuff in her mouth.
Eating was safe.
Speaking was dangerous.
She was suddenly heart-thumpingly sure that a desire for sexual satisfaction was more on Sheikh Zageo bin Sultan Al Farrahn’s mind than a desire for truth, and what he wanted from her was capitulation, vindicating everything he thought about her.
No way.
Never, she thought fiercely.
But what if he kept her here until she did give him the satisfaction he expected from her? She might never get to Stone Town for the meeting with her sister!
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