Chapter 6 -

When she walked into the quaint restaurant adjacent to the hotel, she took one last glance at her reflection in the wall mirror. Even though she told Dixon she would only be a few minutes, twenty-five had gone by since Sark's visit.

Five of them she spent on her eyes, covering up the redness and swelling caused by the steady stream of tears that flowed after Sark left her room. Besides getting dressed, the rest of the time was spent trying to stop the shaking through her body that wouldn't cease.

If he sought out to get to her, he did. No doubt she would not be the same after what transpired tonight. At least her initial reaction caused her to feel that way.

But if she wasn't mistaken, she got to him too. All of his tough talk and cruelty seemed to end, with one look at her terrified, teary face. Followed by the question that was too vague to understand its true meaning.

I didn't want to…

Kiss her? At the time it seemed that he did, but then again both of their emotions were peaked.

Hurt her? Was his behavior in her room all a test to prove her true intentions? It could have been. Especially taking in consideration it was now obvious he overheard her telling her father she was keeping an eye on him.

Or was it their whole interaction over the past month or so. Their time in Buenos Aires, their first kiss, the expensive gesture he sent her way, New Year's Eve… At this juncture she could understand that, finding herself wishing she had never let her feelings for him mature to this point. Even though her arms pulled him close also craving his touch, she was alarmed by Sark's ability to delve inside and torment her.

Whatever his reasons for pushing her in the corner while seething those words of disgust, it brought about a small change in her. Through her moment of weakness, she was stronger and reassured she would see her future actions toward him were smarter and hopefully less dramatic.

Nearing Dixon's table, she forced a genuine smile on her face, "Dixon I'm so sorry I took so long."

Looking up from his menu as she sat, he spoke, "As a married man, I know what ready in a few minutes usually means. They have the club sandwich you love so much."

Sydney looked across the table at pretty much the only man that truly knew her. The way he respected her, yet challenged her when it was due. The multiple times he had saved her life, yet never doubted her abilities in work. The fact he rarely ever crossed the line into her personal life, yet considered her a friend. This was how a colleague or better yet a man should behave.

Nearly an hour later found the two still at their table, slowly finishing their meal. Dixon always had this magical way of initiating a conversation that caused her turmoil to disappear. She was even laughing a bit at the stories he was so happy to share about his family. It was always nice to hear about a "normal" one since she hers was so far from that.

In between stories, Sydney excused herself to the restroom, "I'll be right back." With more gait in her step than earlier, she walked to the restroom area. Just as she rounded the corner, she was stopped by Sark who was rounding the same corner, but heading toward the direction she just came. She recognized the look in his eye, after witnessing it a few times. He had already consumed a few rounds of liquor.

Within inches of each other, Sydney momentarily stared into his eyes, before breaking the contact and stepping to walk around him.

"Sydney…" Sark started, his voice a bit demanding. Continuing to ignore him, she brushed past him until she felt his hand around her wrist. "Please," no pleading in his voice, just another demand.

Avoiding a scene, Sydney ripped her wrist from his grip. "Don't you ever touch me again," her voice was quiet, but filled with anger. Heart pounding wildly, she defiantly eyed him then finished her walk to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she cautiously exited the bathroom, looking for any sign of Sark's presence. With the coast clear, she started back to the table. When it came into view, she found Sark standing there speaking with Dixon. Slightly hesitant, she approached.

"Sydney," Dixon noticed her return; "Mr. Sark was just arranging our departure time from the hotel tomorrow. We're thinking ten forty five?"

Avoiding all eye contact with Sark, she took her seat again, "Sounds good to me." Feeling his eyes on her, she kept hers from him.

"We're completely checked out so I'll have the car waiting out front," Sark confirmed.

"Great," Dixon spoke. Sark made his final departure from their table. When he was completely out of earshot, he continued, "Despite everything, Sark seems to be good at what he does. Not that I'm surprised since considering the source, but I guess your compliment was valid."

Drinking the rest of her wine she grunted instead of speaking. Talk about a statement she wished she could take back. Sydney had the right to be bitter, and she would take full advantage of it. "I'm a bit tired," she explained. "I think I'm going to head back now"

Cordially, she kissed Dixon on his cheek before leaving the restaurant, "Tomorrow then."

Exhausted after a trying day, Sydney walked to the elevator. As she was waiting for it to arrive, she scanned her surroundings, admiring the details of the moderately priced hotel. When she adjusted her gaze into the dimly lit bar, she spied Sark at a small table having what appeared to be an intense conversation on a cell phone.

Staring a bit too long she was caught off guard by him, as he looked straight in her direction. Not able to look away without being obvious, she narrowed her eyes, slightly hoping to show her muscle. Quiet but his narrow brow, showing that he was still speaking with force, he stood then proceeded to the far corner of the bar, where he couldn't be seen.

Another restless night, in and out of sleep this time instead of the almost all-nighters she had experienced prior. As a precaution, she made sure the extra lock on her door was bolted – twice. Still late that night she found herself almost wishing he would knock at her door. Give her the answers she was looking for. She even rehearsed part of what she'd say at first sight of him.

She never got the chance though; she assumed it was probably better that way.

The next morning as promised, Sark was waiting out front car running and ready to go. A gesture of some sort, he had purchased coffee for all. With his dark sunglasses hiding his blues, Sydney made no attempt to dissect it.