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A stunningly beautiful female A woman to catch the breath of any man
But then she always had been that But not like this Not with sleek, pale, perfect hair—styled inon at the nape of her neck—hernone, the shimmer of pearls at her earlobes, her couture dress the colour of cha-sleeved
Alhed Harsh, unhunée … A thousandyears fro years in which to create the transformation his outward eye no The illusion
More than an illusion A lie
His shadow fell across her She turned her head And in the one microsecond that it took he saw the shock—far one Al down the visor over her face, the blankness—the flawless, perfect lack of any sign whatsoever of recognition, of acknowledgement of his identity
But admiration was not what he felt for her What he felt for her was—
So that had been buried deep for five long years Crushed like rocks under lava that had once burnt blisteringly hot and which had cooled to impenetrable basalt
Until this moment Out of nowhere
His hand slid inside the silk-lined inner breast pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a card He flicked it down on to the table in front of her
‘Call me,’ he said His voice was expressionless His face expressionless
Then he turned and walked away
As he did, he reached for his le number Instantly it was answered
‘The blonde I want a full dossier on her when I get back to ht’ He paused minutely ‘And her swain’
Then he slid the phone
away and rejoined his table His face was still expressionless
‘My apologies,’ he said s …?’
‘Thea? What on earth?’ Giles’s upper-class accents sounded bemused
She lifted her eyes fro seemed to move in her face
‘Angelos Petrakos’ She heard Giles read out the na ay Down an endless corridor of purgatory
Angelos Petrakos The nah her mind Five years Five years—
She could feel shock still detonating through her Invisible, but explosive A destructive force she could barely endure But endure it she must—must It was essential Yet she felt as if a Shockas sla her, and all she could do was hang on—hang on with her fingernails—as its force sought to overwhelm her