“Don’t worry. Porn doesn’t appeal to me.”
“Thank God,” she replied, but she leaned forward when a second man in a dark uniform slid into the seat beside the driver. The glass partition behind the front seat was raised, and she couldn’t hear what passed between them before the limousine began to roll.
Griffin pulled her back beside him and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my pet. I’m sure the speaker is on here in the back seat, and should you have a request, they’ll hear your every word.”
Darcy understood his warning and did her best to appear totally unconcerned. But certain something, if not everything, wasn’t right, her heartbeat quickened to a wild thump. The traffic was thick around the airport and, with dark tinted windows, the limousine seemed to float among a sea of lights. She wasn’t fooled, however, by the deceptive calm.
She could only cling to the belief Simon Jordan, or Lyman Vaughn, must be a great fan of Griffin’s to offer a million dollars to meet him and hear him play. She tried to concentrate on that aspect, as it would surely guarantee his safety, but she was still terribly afraid.
“I wish we’d arrived earlier so that we could see something of the city,” she remarked breathlessly.
“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but it was so long ago I don’t recall much except for the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe.”
“We’ll make it a point to see everything in the guide books before we go home,” he replied.
They’d been traveling perhaps twenty minutes when he sat forward slightly. “Antoine, we appear to be going in the wrong direction. Are you lost?”
“You need not worry, sir. I know the city.”
The speaker lent the chauffeur’s voice a slightly metallic ring that alarmed Darcy as much as Griffin’s complaint. While she couldn’t tell east from west in a strange city at night, apparently he could. Thinking there still might be time to flee, she checked the doors, but the interior handles had been removed and there were no controls for the windows. She raised her brows and pointed, but Griffin merely nodded. Apparently he’d already noticed the limousine had been rigged for kidnapping.
When they continued on the same route, Griffin knew Antoine hadn’t merely mistaken the location of the hotel. They were headed somewhere else entirely. He addressed the chauffeur in French this time and, while Darcy couldn’t understand his words, there was no mistaking his displeasure.
“I can assure you, Mr. Moore,” Antoine responded in English, “that Monsieur Jordan’s hospitality is far superior to that of the Meurice, but the hotel will be informed to hold your reservation until you arrive.”
Darcy watched Griffin shake his head, but now that the choice had been made for her, she would simply have to deal with her fears. She rose to sit on her knees and, with a sparkling giggle, threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth close to his ear.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m going to play real dumb.”
Griffin laughed as though she’d offered something else entirely. “Not in the car, Darcy, absolutely not. Now turn around and behave yourself.”
She licked his ear. “What fun is that?”
“I’d no idea you’d enjoy having an audience.”
“I thought chauffeurs were paid to ignore what’s going on back here.”
“No one is that well-paid,” he argued, and he swatted her bottom and forced her back down beside him. “There’s a good girl.”
He looped his arm around her shoulders in a relaxed embrace, but he was furious with himself. It was his colossal arrogance that had landed his darling Darcy in this awful predicament and, determin
ed to get her out safely, he hugged her more tightly.
“The French countryside is very beautiful. Because you know the names of every shrub and tree, I imagine you’ll see a great deal more than I will on our way back to Paris.”
Darcy squeezed his thigh. She was uncertain if he were signaling her to keep her eyes open for landmarks so they could retrace their route, or if he were merely chatting to calm her nerves and fool their silent escorts.
“Yes, I especially want to visit Versailles again,” she responded gamely. “The palace is so very beautiful, but I’d really like to concentrate on the gardens this time.”
“I’ll take you there,” he promised.
She hoped they lived that long. At least she’d memorized the license plate number while Antoine, if that were really his name, loaded their luggage in the trunk.
“I’d hoped to spend tomorrow shopping,” she complained petulantly. “France has such wonderful designers. I hadn’t expected to be stuck out in the provinces.”
“I know.” Griffin sighed regretfully. “I’ll make it up to you, but at least you’ll have an opportunity to hear me play again.”