“Aslan Bey?” she said, and the use of that masculine name hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt the blood rush to my head in a millisecond. “Yes, yes… I’m fine. Malik told you everything, right? No, please, don’t come. He’s here… Sebastian found me. He’s in the lounge. He has armed men all over the hotel, it’s dangerous…”
Aslan. The Turkish name echoed in my ears like a declaration of war. My worst fears, the sickening jealousy I’d tried to suppress with whiskey, exploded in perfect combustion.
Who the hell was Aslan? The ex-boyfriend she’d told me about? The man who’d been hiding her in Istanbul, the owner of the mansion the driver had mentioned? The damned bastard who thought he had a right to my secretary and the child she was carrying?
What little sanity I had left completely evaporat
