‘I am at that somewhere. Right here, beside you.’

He frowns. ‘But when I am not around—’

‘Brian and his pack take over.’

‘I’d still prefer to lock you up in an enchanted tower.’

‘That doesn’t sound quite fair. I get locked up while you go into the world and do all the things that you love to do.’

‘I don’t love what I do, Lana. I do it because I have to.’

‘Why can’t you walk away? You have more than we can ever spend.’

‘Sometimes we are given the illusion of choice. Give a man dying of thirst in a desert a glass of water and tell him it’s his choice. Drink or leave it. Is that really a choice, Lana?’

I say nothing. I remember when my mother was so ill that choice became an illusion.

‘I am like that man,’ he continues. ‘If I drink it will mean danger to you and Sorab. I know too much for them to allow me to walk away. I have responsibilities that I must see through.’

‘Responsibilities to carry on destroying the world?’

He smiles sadly and puts his finger on my lips. ‘No more. That will happen with or without me.’

‘Then why do you have to do it?’

‘What happens to the whistleblower, Lana?’

‘They get put in prison or they or their loved ones meet with “accidents” or they commit “suicide” and the agenda goes on uninterrupted.’

I frown and move my mouth away from his finger. ‘Why—?’

His fingers stop my lips, stop any further conversation. His eyes look so sad I wish I had never started this conversation. I move towards him and hug him hard. He is in pain. Terrible pain, but he cannot tell me. He is the man in the desert with a glass full of cool, life-giving water. I am asking him to drink, but he is resisting because of me and Sorab. I realize then that he has reason for the secrecy he maintains. He believes it is for the greater good. He believes harm will befall me and Sorab. I have to accept it. I decide then to stop pestering him. I will do my own research.

‘I’m going to church tomorrow.’

‘OK, what time would you like us to go?’

I stare at him, astonished. ‘You mean you’ll come to church with me?’

He shrugs. ‘Sure why not?’

‘But what about the brotherhood?’

‘The cloak of respectability the brotherhood wears is organized religion.’

And I remember that his father’s funeral had been held in a church. ‘But if you come with me, wouldn’t that be a sham?’

He looks me in the eye. ‘No, it wouldn’t.’

‘I’m going to love you like I’ll never be hurt.’

He lays his head on the pillow beside me and looks deep into my eyes. ‘Often I look at you and I can’t believe my luck,’ he whispers.

Two days later I am pushing Sorab on High Street Kensington when time suddenly suspends. The blood stills in my veins. For a moment it is as if I am in a movie frame that suddenly freezes.

Victoria is standing only a few yards away. We stare at each other. Her eyes are translucent with a strange mixture of bewilderment and hatred. She reminds me of a wild animal that is caught in a mangle. It is dangerous because it is so desperate. I know I am safe—Brian is only a shout away—but I still feel the icy claw of fear squeeze at my heart.

She takes a step towards me and my internal organs lurch as if I am in a fast-moving lift that suddenly stops. My mind instantly starts making plans to protect Sorab. A voice in my brain says, ‘She wouldn’t dare,’ but I stand ready.

She begins to walk towards me, her head held straight, but her eyes unblinking and deadly are trained on me, the eyeballs moving to the sides of her eyes as she passes by me. So close to me, almost her shoulder brushing mine. The malice and madness I see in her eyes chill me to the bone. And yet, she has done nothing. I turn around and watch her walk away without once turning back.

I clamp my hand over my mouth, as if to cover the horror of the knowledge that she has fooled Blake. She will be trouble. But how will I convince him otherwise? She has done nothing to me.

That night Blake’s lips crash against mine, and afterwards he tells me we are going to Dubai—a romantic weekend. I lose myself in the moment and forget the maniacal hatred in Victoria’s eyes…momentarily.

Seventeen

When we arrive at the airport I am surprised to note that we are not getting into Blake’s Gulfstream jet, but a Boeing 767. We walk through the doors and I gawp in awed silence. It looks like no plane I’ve ever been in. Brand new and customized to look like the interior of an apartment it is luxurious and stunningly elegant.

I turn to Blake. ‘Do you own this?’

‘It’s registered to the Bank of Utah.’

‘But really it’s yours?’

He shrugs. ‘Own nothing, control everything.’

Smiling staff come forth with smiles and hot towels.

After take-off I turn to Blake. ‘Can I explore?’

‘Want me to show you?’

‘Nope. Want to take it all in on my own.’

He smiles and reaches for his briefcase. ‘Knock yourself out.’

I touch my lips to his. ‘I will.’

I take Sorab from Jerry and we start exploring the three floors. It is truly amazing. All the spaces have no hard edges, everything curves and swirls around to meet the next environment. There is a dining table that seats twenty, three guest bedroom suites, lifts, a kitchen, an office, a boardroom, two sumptuous lounges with cream couches, a concert hall, a TV room, a gym and a sauna.

We end up in the master bedroom, which is on two levels. I playfully throw Sorab on the massive white bed and he bounces and squeals with startled laughter. He lifts his hands up to me. I pick him up and throw him back down on the bed. He laughs happily and lifts his hands again.

‘One last time,’ I say, and fling him on the bed again. He bounces, sits up and crawls towards me. I lay on the bed.

He arrives beside me and climbs on my body. I hold him up in the air, his body horizontal to mine.

‘Mummy and Daddy will be christening this bed soon,’ I tell him.

He cackles loudly.

‘I know. Wouldn’t that be nice, huh?’

My mobile rings.

‘Where are you?’

‘In the master bedroom.’

‘Don’t move.’

We spend an hour together, playing, just as an ordinary family would. When Sorab nods off, we lay for a while with him between us, just looking into each other’s eyes.

‘We are so lucky, aren’t we?’ I whisper.

‘I can hardly believe I have both of you.’

I grin. ‘Wanna have sex?’

His answering grin is wolfish. ‘Obviously.’

‘What about His Highness?’ I jerk my head in the direction of the sleeping child.

‘He can have the bed,’ he says, and grabbing my hand he slides me off the round bed. And there on the soft white carpet we have quiet sex. It is unfamiliar and in a funny way taboo, and so incredibly exciting.

When we finish I am giggling breathlessly. ‘My knees,’ I complain.

‘We’ll use the bed on the return trip,’ Blake promises.

I stare at him in wonder. His hair is falling down his forehead, his eyes are sparkling and he looks so young and carefree.

We are flown by helicopter to the roof of the iconic and awesomely beautiful Burj Al Arab, considered the best of the three seven star hotels in the world. As soon as we step out on to the green felt landing pad, waiters in tails and white gloves stand in a line to greet us with champagne and flowers.

There is no check-in and we are immediately charmed into the royal suite. Inside the opulence is shocking. Its luxury and excess are such that it is almost intimidating. There is a butler outside the door who knows us all by name which I frankly find unnerving! I feel as if I am an impostor. Surely only kings and emperors live with gold and gilt on every surface and leopard skin-covered empire chairs.