Her cheek was clammy against the cool leather of the couch. She swam up through a red haze, the rich scent of the fabric filling her senses. Combined with the pounding pain in her head, the smell made her feel nauseous. She felt feverish, shaky, hot and cold at the same time; she was confused, and groggy. Slowly she raised a hand and gingerly explored the lump that was forming under her dark hair.
A glass of water was placed with a clink on the table in front of her. She flinched at the sound; it bit viciously into her head. But the lure of the cold water was too much; she struggled into a sitting position, her eyes focused only on the water that promised cool relief. She gulped at it.
'Slowly.' The voice was clear, precise. Ashleigh lifted her head to focus on the owner, as she saw him the glass slipped from her suddenly numb fingertips, shattering on the hardwood floor.
'Janus!'
That laugh again. The rasping hiss building up into a rich reverberating laugh that grated against her senses. The owner of that voice was staring at Ashleigh with an unsettling smile on his face. That face was scarred badly down the right side, scars that Ashleigh knew would continue all the way down his lean muscled body to his slim hips.
A strong jaw. A confidence that vibrated through his entire demeanour. Grey blue eyes glittered beneath dark blond hair, now closely cropped to his head. The man oozed power. It was the scarring that gave the definite clue to his identity. But he was a man that was dead. A man killed three years previously by James Bond.
Her confusion shone through her façade of bravery. Her knitted brow gave away every thought to Alec Trevelyan, the traitor of the British Secret Service.
'So surprised?' A little smirk was beginning to play on the edge of his lips. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'
'You're supposed to be dead.' Her tone was flat, her wording blunt.
'I would think that all evidence points to the contrary.'
'James killed you.' She was desperate to regain the upper hand, her confusion, her headache, her shock at seeing him running rings around simple coherent thought. She played her trump card, his hatred of Bond.
His attitude changed from one of quiet amusement to full on aggression, he lunged across the room, his strong hands pinning her wrists to the chair.
'He failed.' Alec hissed. 'And I want you to inform him of his mistake.' Like his namesake his mood suddenly switched again, he moved slowly back from her, one hand smoothing down his hair. He pushed a button on the intercom.
'Show our guest to her room please.'
To her surprise Ashleigh was treated with respect. Having guessed that she was in Trevelyan's private quarters she tried to recall the passages around her, but the place was so large she soon became disorientated. She was deposited into a large tastefully furnished room, where she found her belongings, minus her phone, keys and gun. Left alone she roamed the room searching for a mode to escape, but the place was windowless, and the vents too small for her to even consider. In the bathroom she found thick towels, a large shower, even a new toothbrush. Looking for something to occupy herself she opened a bottle of shampoo and smelt its clean fruity fragrance. It was a gorgeous set of rooms to be in, but it was still her cell, and she was beginning to feel caged.
The bedroom had been done in soft muted neutrals, a huge bed in the centre of the room, with crisp sheets and soft blankets. Her head was still hurting her, it was tempting to just lie down and sleep, but she couldn't relax yet, knowing her every move was probably being watched, two way mirrors, peepholes, cameras on every part of the room. She prowled, feeling a little stir crazy already, trying the door with little hope of success, proved right when it refused to open. Like a caged animal she paced the room, one side to the other, and then back again, all the time worrying her thumbnail, trying to concentrate. She sat on the sofa. She opened every drawer she could find, amused to find them empty. She lay on the bed, overwhelmed by a sense of anticipation. Finally she decided that a shower would help to ease the pain in her head.
Having showered she lay on the bed. She no longer felt the urge to escape. Common sense told her that it would be better to just wait the situation out. Wait for instructions rather than take action. Wrapped in the soft bathrobe, her head still throbbing she felt strangely safe on the comfortable bed. To surprise she fell asleep.
Hours had passed when she was woken by a buzzing noise. Turning her head she saw a slim handset on the chest of drawers next to the bed. Slowly she picked it up and listened. An accented voice told her to be dressed and ready within twenty minutes, she would be taken to dinner. Dinner with Janus. She murmured her assent, what else could she do?
Dressing quickly, she left off her suit jacket, the elbow scuffed through during her fall. She had a bruise in a corresponding position. Flinging the jacket over the back of the sofa, she sat and waited. Anxiously she wondered what Trevelyan's role in all of this was. Had he been supplying or taking receipt of the virus? How dangerous was he? Her stomach turned over at the thought of having to spend time in his company, he was a man with little remorse, a known killer and her fate was in his hands. She was scared. Very scared. She jumped as there was a knock at the door, and a man entered, beckoning her to follow. It was time to dine with a ghost.
It was claustrophobic in the room, shrouded in darkness, lit only by the tall cream candles. She trembled, feeling trapped, feeling like she was bound in this room with this man. She had no idea what to expect, instead she sat and waited, waited for him to strike. She barely noticed the intimacy of the setting, the shadows cocooning them. She simply sat opposite him, sometimes catching his eye through the flickering flames. She refused wine, ignored the food in front of her, she sat with her hands in her lap, anticipating. Her attention was solely on the candle in front of her, watching the wax cascade down the column, and pool at its base. She couldn't speak, her mouth was dry, if he asked her a question, she merely nodded or shook her head. His closeness was intimidating, she was well aware of the danger posed by the man who watched her through the flames.
Alec Trevelyan was clearly a man of taste. His suit was cut to emphasise the broadness of his shoulders, and the tapering of his lean muscled body into narrow hips. He had long legs she noted, when he had walked into the room, and a slight limp. He stood at six feet, a good half foot taller than Ashleigh, and she knew she was no match for his strength. As if it would disguise her silence he spoke constantly, telling her simply of his fall to his so called death, the terrible pain of his shattered body, knowing his only chance to escape would be an agonised roll into the satellite's draining system, forcing himself to move, lying on the narrow edge, feeling and hearing the roar of the flames over him, knowing he had cheated death for a second time. He had learnt to walk again, to rebuild his broken body, and was now back to full strength.
Ashleigh sat in silence, simply listening, horrified to find herself attracted to this man. He was her enemy, he could destroy her at any moment, and yet still she wanted to reach out, and touch his face, or to feel the texture of his hair under her hands. He watched her with cold grey eyes, that focused on her with an intensity she thought would scald her, and without realising it she found herself running her hands through her own hair, and brazenly staring at him, willing him to touch her. He never broke her gaze. She reached for her water glass, letting the cold ice bump against her burning lips.
'You should eat.'
She frowned, dragged back to the moment, finding her voice at last. 'I'm not hungry.'
'How did you find your room?'
'Delightful,' she was sarcastic.
He sighed. 'I'm trying to be civil.'
'Since when did being civil involve abduction?' she glared at him. 'I presume that my presence here means that it was two of your hired goons that attacked me.'
He ignored her comment, focusing on his own agenda. 'I'm far more interested in finding out why a member of the British Secret Service was investigating that particular garage.'
She decided to be straight with him. 'There was an exchange taking place. I was warning the agents that I was working with when I was pursued.'
He frowned. 'What sort of exchange?'
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. 'You were there. You would know far more than me.'
'I see.' He leaned forward. 'Yesterday afternoon, a man in my employment learnt of a consignment being made in my name. Understandably, since I like to keep a low profile, I was intrigued, and decided that it was worth examining in more detail. You interrupted my men, and they took what they believed to be the appropriate action.'
'So why am I here?'
'Because you were brought here by my men under my orders.'
An obtuse answer. She gritted her teeth. 'Then when am I allowed to leave?'
'When I say so. Forgive me, Ashleigh, but your presence here puts me in a strong position, until I can negotiate your release.'
She was relieved that she would at least remain alive. 'So I'm a hostage here? A pawn to be negotiated.'
'To put it plainly, yes. You will remain in your rooms, anything you require will be provided.'
'How generous.' Her eyes were narrowed at him; they remained in a deadlock of a cloying silence.
The door opened to the room, and one of the men that all seemed identical to Ashleigh entered. Ashleigh decided now was her moment. With a sudden crash her chair tipped backwards as she flung herself from it, her body already pumping with adrenaline, sprinting for the open door. The man paused, unsure what to do, and Ashleigh took her chance, knotting her fists together into a crude cudgel, with a well time swing she aimed for his face, and was rewarded with a crack as his nose broke, splattering his face and Ashleigh with warm blood. Ashleigh barely noticed her attention solely on forcing her way through the door.
With sudden speed and viciousness a hand shot out and grabbed Ashleigh by the wrist. He snapped her back, swinging her body in a broad arch, using her momentum to hit her against the wall with some force. She slumped against the cool wall, feeling the shock in her back and neck, the pain in her head reawakened once more. Alec's snarling face was inches from her terrified one, holding onto her wrist with a painfully strong grip, yet somehow she managed to form her features into a look of contempt.
The fallen man was being helped to his feet, clutching his nose and muttering in Russian that needed no translation.
'Leave us.' Alec growled at them, still staring at her. When they were slow to respond he turned his head in their direction. 'Get out!' he roared, and Ashleigh cringed back from the anger in his voice.
The men ran.
Alec and Ashleigh's faces were inches apart, their eyes boring into one another; she could feel the heat coming from him. Ashleigh was stunned by the strength in his tense body, he was bent slightly to meet her face on, he was holding her only by her left wrist but she could barely move. She no longer felt fear, instead her entire body was screaming for him to touch her, despite the threat he posed. Pressed against the wall, she fought against the urge to lean forward and mould her body against his.
Alec examined her flushed face, the shining eyes as dark as chocolate, glittering with adrenaline. Her slim body quivered with tension, he could feel her supple strength, had seen the speed she could move at. She was a strong, albeit young intelligent woman, and he admired intelligence, as he admired the courage she had shown in her desperate escape plan. Foolhardy, but still courageous. She was also James Bond's goddaughter, he knew that, she was James's and he wanted her all the more for it.
Reaching up he stroked his thumb against her cheek, rubbing away the smear of blood that lay against her creamy skin. Her lips parted and she gave a small sigh, almost against her will, at his touch.
Ashleigh didn't know what this man could do. He had tried to kill James more than once; he was the leader of a huge crime syndicate, a known killer, and an active seeker of revenge. And to her surprise, she wanted him more than any man she had ever seen.
Alec kissed her. His stubble grated against her, his hand tightened on her wrist until she gasped, and kissed him back harder. Suddenly, breaking the kiss, still holding onto her wrist, his long fingers digging into her slim arm, he dragged her along dark corridors until they came to a large double mahogany door. A guard stood nearby, but seeing Alec's approach he stepped discreetly away. Alec opened the door and Ashleigh was flung into the room.
It was dark in the room, made darker by the heavy furniture and leather sofas. Ashleigh only had time to take in the bed, lit by a sliver of light creeping in through the window, before Alec's mouth was on hers once more and she was lost in his electrifying kiss.
Alec finally let go of her wrist, but pulled her into an incredibly tight embrace, pressing the length of his body against hers. His fingers reached up beneath the fabric of her shirt to stroke the smooth skin of her lower back, feeling her arch against his touch, pressing her body closer against his. A little gasp stole from her lips, and he crushed her against him.
She ran her hands over his hair, tugging his head down to hers, tracing the pattern of his scars, and not minding them. Her arms slid under his jacket to find the muscle of his torso, her hands skimmed over his hips, wanting to move them further down, to caress the areas of his body that she wanted most. She could feel his desire for her in every touch, desire that was echoed in her own caresses, he was shrugging off his jacket, bringing his freed hands to her shoulders. He broke the kiss, moving away from her slightly, he saw the dismay in her eyes, so kissed her gently, his fingers deftly undoing each button on her shirt, teasing her, and himself, until he could pull the shirt from her shoulders, kissing each in turn, trailing up the hollow of her throat until he found her lips once more, laying her upon the bed.
Undressing her slowly he took in every curve, every patch of skin, she watched his eyes as they roamed over her body, darkening with every second that passed, and her response was to pull him down to her.
They made love for hours, danger and passion combined in hedonistic pleasure, truly Ashleigh was sleeping with the enemy. Yet this enemy held her gently in his arms, one hand tracing the curve of her side until she fell asleep.