‘What? What were you going to say?’
She stared at him in bewilderment. She knew what she’d been going to say, that she was the one whose heart was broken. But it wasn’t true. She was defending Khalil, yes, but not because she loved him. It was only because it would be wrong to lie about him, to raise doubts in the minds of his people.
‘You can’t do something so evil,’ she said flatly.
Sam’s face hardened. ‘Listen to me, Joanna. Khalil’s trying to put together this mining deal, sure. But when the banks and the power brokers know the truth about him, how he abducted you and how he treated you—’
‘But they won’t.’ Joanna’s eyes flashed with defiance. ‘The story’s mine, and I’m not going to tell it.’
Sam’s mouth thinned with distaste. ‘It’s useless, treating you as if you understood business! You’re not the son I wanted, and you never will be.’
Tears glinted on Joanna’s lashes. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘at least it’s finally out in the open. I’m not, no, and—’ The car jounced to a stop at the kerb. Joanna grabbed her evening bag from the seat. ‘We can discuss this later, Father.’
‘Jo. Wait!’
She snatched her hand from his and reached for the door, too angry and upset to wait for the chauffeur to open it. Sam cared about protocol, but it had never meant a damn to her.
‘Joanna,’ Sam said sharply, but she ignored him, swung open the door—and stepped straight into a bewildering sea of cameras and microphones.
‘Miss Bennett!’ Someone shoved a mike into her face. ‘Is it true,’ an eager voice asked, ‘that you were abducted and held for ransom by the new ruler of Jandara?’
Joanna stiffened. ‘Where did you—?’
‘Is it true he abducted you because he’d demanded bribe money from your father’s company and your father refused to pay it?’
She spun towards Sam, who had stepped out of the car after her. ‘Did you do this?’ she said in a low voice.
His eyes narrowed. ‘We’ll discuss this later, you said. I think we should stay with that idea.’
‘Answer me! Did you set this up?’
‘Do unto others as they do unto you, Jo,’ Sam said out of the side of his mouth. ‘Khalil’s in New York, his hat in his hand. It’s my turn now.’
Joanna’s mouth trembled. ‘You would lie about Khalil, let the media swarm over me, all to get even?’
Sam glared at her. ‘Business is business, Joanna. How come you can’t get that straight?’ He pushed past her, making it look as if he were defending her against the press, and held up his hands. ‘My daughter finds this too emotional a topic to talk about,’ he said. ‘I’ll speak on her behalf.’
He launched into a tirade against Khalil, about his greed and his barbarism, about how he’d been angered by Bennettco’s refusal to pay enough baksheesh and how he’d stolen Joanna in retaliation, then demanded a king’s ransom for her return—
‘No,’ Joanna said.
The microphones and cameras swung towards her and Sam did too, his eyes stabbing her with a warning look.
‘The only reason we’ve decided to come forward now,’ he said, ‘is because my daughter refuses to let Prince Khalil trick our bankers into investing in—’
‘No!’ Joanna’s voice rose. ‘It’s not true!’
‘Do you see what the bastard did?’ Sam roared. ‘She’s still afraid to talk about how he imprisoned her, starved her, beat her—’
‘It’s a lie!’ Joanna stepped past her father. ‘Prince Khalil asked for no ransom, no bribes. He’s a good, decent man, and my father’s trying to blacken his name!’
There was a moment’s silence, and then a voice rang out.
‘Decent men don’t abduct women.’
There was a titter of laughter. Joanna lifted her chin and stared directly into the glittering eyes of the video cameras.
‘He didn’t abduct me,’ she said in a clear voice.
‘Your father says he did. What’s the story, Miss Bennett?’
What had Khalil said, the night he’d taken her? That he could tell the world she’d run off with him and be believed, that no one would doubt such a story. Joanna took a deep breath.
‘I was with Khalil because I wanted to be with him,’ she said. She heard her father growl a short, ugly word and her voice gathered strength. ‘The Prince asked me to go away with him—and I did.’
A dozen questions filled the air, and finally one reporter’s voice cut through the rest.
‘So, you don’t hate the Hawk of the North?’
Joanna’s lips trembled. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t hate him.’
‘What, then?’ someone called.
Joanna hesitated. ‘I—I—’
‘Well, Miss Bennett?’ another voice insisted, ‘how do you feel about him?’
Joanna stared at the assembled cameras. How did she feel about Khalil? What did she feel?
A woman reporter jostled aggressively past the others and stuck a microphone under her nose.
‘Do you love him?’ she said, her crimson lips parting in a smirk.
Joanna looked at the woman. The time for lies and deceit was past.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘I do.’
She heard Sam’s groan, heard the babble of voices all trying to question her at once, and then she turned and fled into a taxi that had mercifully just disgorged its passengers.
* * *
Joanna stalked the length of the terrace that opened off her living-room. The night had proven even warmer than the afternoon; the long, white silk robe she wore was light against her skin but even so, she felt as if she were smothering.
But she knew it had little to do with the temperature. She was smothering of humiliation, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She groaned out loud and sank down on the edge of a chaise longue. How could she have made such an ass of herself?
I love him, she’d said—but she didn’t. She didn’t love Khalil, she never had.
So why had she said such a preposterous thing? Anger at Sam, yes, and pain at how he’d been prepared to use her, but still, why would she have made such an announcement?
She rose and walked slowly into the living-room, just as the clock on the mantel chimed the hour. Four a.m. If only it were dawn, she’d put on her running shoes, a T-shirt and shorts, and go for a long run through Central Park. Maybe that would help. Maybe—
The phone shrilled, as it had periodically through the night. Would it be the Press, which had found her despite her ex-directory listing, or Sam, who’d called three times to tell her she had ruined him? She snatched it up and barked a hello.
It was Sam, but the tone of his voice told her that his rage had given way to weariness.
‘Will you at least apologise for making fools of me and of Bennettco, Jo?’
Joanna put a hand to her forehead. ‘Of course. I never intended to embarrass you, Father.’
‘How could you do it, then? My reputation and the company’s are in shambles.’
She smiled. ‘You’ve survived worse.’
Sam sighed gustily into the phone. ‘I’m not saying you were right,’ he said, ‘but maybe my idea wasn’t so hot.’
Joanna’s smile broadened. ‘Are you apologising to me, Father?’
‘I’ve always walked a thin line between what’s right and what’s wrong and sometimes—sometimes, I lose my way.’
It was an admission she would never have expected, and it touched her.
‘You’re one tough lady, Joanna,’ Sam said quietly.
‘I love you, Father,’ Joanna whispered.
‘And I love you.’ She heard him take a deep breath. ‘Jo? I really did believe I’d endanger you by negotiating with Khalil. That’s the only reason I didn’t tear up that blasted contract. I want to be sure you know that. You mean the world to me.’
Tears stung her eyes. ‘I know.’
‘Well,’ Sam said brusquely, ‘it’s late. You should get some sleep.’ There was a s
ilence. ‘Goodnight, daughter.’
Daughter. He had never called her that before. Joanna’s hand tightened on the phone.
‘Goodnight, Daddy,’ she said.
She hung up the phone and smiled. So, she thought, stretching her legs out in front of her, some good had come of this mess after all. She and her father might yet be friends—
She started as the doorbell rang. Who could it be, at this late hour? Who could the doorman have possibly admitted without calling her on the intercom first?
Joanna stood and walked slowly to the door. A reporter, she thought grimly, a reporter who’d sneaked in the back way.
The bell rang again, the sound persistent and jarring in the middle of the night silence.
‘Go away,’ she called.
Someone rapped sharply at the door.
‘Do you hear me? If you don’t get away from here this minute, I’ll call the police!’
‘You call them,’ a man’s voice growled, ‘or your neighbours will, when I break this door down!’
Joanna fell back against the wall. ‘Khalil?’ she whispered.
‘Do you hear me, Joanna? Open this door at once!’