“Interesting,” he muttered, then pivoted on his heel and faced her again. “So you don’t know anything about the photograph?”
She shook her head.
“Not even that there was a piece of an ancient papyrus hidden behind it?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I see.” A smile tugged at one side of his lips. “I’m beginning to think you may have been innocent in this after all.”
Her mind whirled. He couldn’t be serious. She had the picture in her room for days and never suspected it could be hiding something. Not even after Xander had shown it such interest.
She swallowed, debating if she should bother to ask. He said he thought she was innocent. Maybe he’d cooperate.
“Can I have it back, then? The Bible you stole?”
“Hm?” He studied his fingernails. “Oh that. I threw it in the Nile.”
She jerked like she’d been slapped in the face. “It… it’s gone?”
“I thought it might have been a journal. Turned out to be useless.”
Gritting her teeth, she curled her hands into fists. Gone. It was gone. Forever. The liquid in her eyes burned. Without thinking, she blurted her next demand.
“I want to see it. The papyrus.”
“That can be arranged. But first, we must come to the next part of business.” He positioned himself squarely in front of her, his features hardening. “You know where the tomb is.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Had Xander told him? Deciding to err on the side of caution, she shook her head and frowned. “What tomb?”
He dug a hand into his pocket and, to her dismay, slid out her camera. “The one you took pictures of.”
Oh crap. Once again the ice bucket dumped over her head.
Unsmiling, he pocketed the camera and prowled forward.
“So,” he said firmly, raising his voice. “Why don’t you make life easier for all of us and tell me where it is?”
She clamped her mouth shut and backed away, only to be stopped by the dresser. She wasn’t going to tell him. Not after everything she went through to find the tomb. Not after her father dying because of the papyrus. The tomb had to be protected.
Annoyance flashed in Amir’s eyes, then he lowered himself onto the chaise lounge. With a sigh, he sat back as if ready to relax after a tiring day.
“I don’t know about you, but I have all the time in the world.” He shrugged. “So, how about some tea? Or are you a coffee person? I prefer tea, myself.”
Taken aback, she glared at him for a moment. She didn’t know what she should expect from her captivity here, but she had an inkling it would be similar to the fate of the veiled woman.
Leila turned her back to him, all too aware of his scrutiny.
Just play along for now.
She concentrated on pouring the hot, dark liquid into the glass cup, trying not to spill it all over the place because of her shaking hands.
Figure out what to do when you know more about him and this place.
She regained control enough to bring the cup over to him, tempted to dump its contents in his face. Common sense told her not to do anything rash. Not yet.
He took a sip then placed the teacup down beside him and got to his feet. With calculated steps, he crossed the room toward her.
“I hate to do this,” he said. She caught a hint of mock sadness in his voice. “You should be allowed to move about the villa, walk into town, perhaps even ride the horses or see your friend. But here, you have to earn your privileges.”
“I don’t plan on staying,” Leila said through gritted teeth. “I’m not your slave, either.”
He advanced until he was so close she could smell the bitter scent of the strong tea on his breath. She cringed and leaned back.
“I think…” His voice dropped to almost a whisper as he placed his hands on the dresser, locking her in between his arms. His eyes narrowed, danger churning in their black depths, and he lifted a hand and wrapped it lightly around her throat. “That is for me to decide.”
Her breath caught. An overwhelming need to run welled up inside. Without thinking, she seized the handle of the teapot. She threw it into his face, not caring how the ceramic burned her palms.
Amir jumped back with a yell, the tea stain running down his front. He held his arms out at his sides and gaped as the tea dripped down his formerly spotless white shirt. His head snapped back up, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring. He swung his arm around, the back of his hand slapping her across the cheek.
Her head jerked to the side as a sharp pain shot through her jaw. She lifted her arm to protect her face from his next attack, but a cheerful song with Arabic singing and a playful oud filled her ears.
Amir stopped and tugged his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the display. Then he gave her another scowl.
“Next time, I won’t stop,” he growled and spun on his heel, putting the phone to his ear.
Leila touched her skin gingerly where her cheek smarted, glaring at his back until the door slammed shut behind him. Then she let the tears fall.
Chapter Nineteen
