"She's jealous of you."
Sydney met the remarkably limpid grey-blue gaze with absolute attention. Every detail belonged to her; she noted the long sweep of eyelash and the brows arched too perfectly to be wasted on a man. Sark had gorgeous, dreamboat eyes. The polished pools radiated angelic innocence and good intentions. His eyes were deep with the glow of benevolence, integrity, and uprightness.
That's how Sydney knew Sark was lying. Or, telling half-truths at best. She wasn't sure which was the more dangerous, but was positive he had perfected the art of both actions.
His eyes shone as if there were a hole in the back of his head and the sun had let its full brilliance surge through. Sark had never looked more harmless, so Sydney knew she had to keep her guard up.
"Ana Espinosa isn't jealous of me; if anyone exudes self-confidence, it's her. She's always claimed that I was playing out of my league." Sydney's genius quality intellect informed her exactly where Sark was heading but she, instead, preferred to ignore logic in favor of denial, sanity, and human decency by prevaricating for all she was worth.
"She's not jealous of you professionally, though, I willingly admit, your talent for espionage is nothing short of phenomenal."
His eyelashes fluttered in a maddeningly attractive way that sent Sydney's hackles up.
Well, up-er, since they'd been up from the moment he'd purred into her ear back at Gould's office.
Up-er? Perhaps, since they were already up. Sydney grimaced, Lovely, a few hours' exposure to Sark and years of graduate training in the English language have gone to rot.
"Sydney, I'm going to go slowly now."
"Okay," she answered, unsure she wanted to follow him anywhere but sure that she could stall.
"Ana is an ex-girlfriend of mine."
"Ex-girlfriend, of course, meaning 'good lay devoid of any emotional attachment or moral obligation.'"
"Let's try this again," Sark sighed. "Ana, for lack of a better or more polite term, is an ex-girlfriend of mine. Due to the special conditions of our liaison's termination, I have reason to believe Ana may be interested in-"
"Breaking your stringy neck into itty bitty bite size pieces?"
"Oh, Sydney," Sark would have shaken his head if he wasn't sure it would hurt. "Itty bitty pieces? Were my polysyllabic words challenging your comprehension?"
"Shut up, Sark. You're lucky these chains are holding me back."
"Well, which is it, Sydney, shut up or explain? Have pity on a mere mortal without your ability to multitask."
"Get a new bone to chew on, Sark! So you know I work for the-"
"Sydney," Sark's tone changed from conversational to curt. "Don't talk about this here."
Chastened, Sydney fell into silence. She realized she had almost revealed her identity as a double-agent in the heart of K-Directorate headquarters. Where is my head? And why did Sark stop me? Maybe he wants to keep the dirty blackmail for himself.
"Now if I may continue?" Sark looked at her expectantly. "I believe the source of Ana's spite is not work-related but, shall we say, more an effect of the recreational aspect of your life."
Sydney pursed her lips but refused to comment otherwise.
"To be more explicit, Ana is jealous of your association with me."
"I don't know why. I told Ana she was welcome to you."
Sark had the audacity to look wounded. "I am not to be given away like so much refuse."
"Could have fooled me."
"Your wit is as keen as your bright beauty," he responded. "You see, Sydney, how comfortable we are together, even in this desolate cell? Is it any wonder Ana is envious of our connection?"
"You've got to be kidding me. If she's so concerned with our connection, why did she stick us in the same cell?"
"Were you not listening earlier? There's a power play going on here."
"I don't even know where here is."
"We're five miles out of Moscow. Underground, in the remains of K- Directorate's headquarters. Not only does Ana have access to a limited amount of space, but she's probably trying to conceal your identity. Ana still does have superiors, you know, and their plans for you could not possibly coincide with hers."
"That's a lot of information Sark, thank you for enlightening me. But I can't help but wonder exactly how you came by that intel. As a matter of professional courtesy, could you share the technique with me? I've never encountered a method that entailed hickies."
Sark glared at her.
Yeah, where are the dreamboat eyes now, Sark? Goodbye, azure orbs. Hello, really pissed off stare. This is more like it.
Sydney took great satisfaction in Sark's stony quiet, but still prepared herself for the rejoinder he was sure to throw.
It never came.
Being closer to the door, Sark heard the guards coming before she did. Slowly, he drew himself up to full height and stood straight-backed when two guards entered the cell.
"Espinosa will see you now," one of the guards looked to Sydney. "Both of you."
While one guard handcuffed Sark, the other worked on Sydney's restraints. When she was allowed to stand, she saw a third guard through the glass in the door and decided to wait for a better opportunity to escape.
Instead she took her frustrations out on Sark. Sandwiched between guards, she was able to lean forward, into him, for a second before the guards pulled her roughly away.
When her had lips hovered above his ear, she had whispered, "I still don't believe you, but that doesn't mean I can't blame you for everything that happens here. Every single thing."
Sydney met the remarkably limpid grey-blue gaze with absolute attention. Every detail belonged to her; she noted the long sweep of eyelash and the brows arched too perfectly to be wasted on a man. Sark had gorgeous, dreamboat eyes. The polished pools radiated angelic innocence and good intentions. His eyes were deep with the glow of benevolence, integrity, and uprightness.
That's how Sydney knew Sark was lying. Or, telling half-truths at best. She wasn't sure which was the more dangerous, but was positive he had perfected the art of both actions.
His eyes shone as if there were a hole in the back of his head and the sun had let its full brilliance surge through. Sark had never looked more harmless, so Sydney knew she had to keep her guard up.
"Ana Espinosa isn't jealous of me; if anyone exudes self-confidence, it's her. She's always claimed that I was playing out of my league." Sydney's genius quality intellect informed her exactly where Sark was heading but she, instead, preferred to ignore logic in favor of denial, sanity, and human decency by prevaricating for all she was worth.
"She's not jealous of you professionally, though, I willingly admit, your talent for espionage is nothing short of phenomenal."
His eyelashes fluttered in a maddeningly attractive way that sent Sydney's hackles up.
Well, up-er, since they'd been up from the moment he'd purred into her ear back at Gould's office.
Up-er? Perhaps, since they were already up. Sydney grimaced, Lovely, a few hours' exposure to Sark and years of graduate training in the English language have gone to rot.
"Sydney, I'm going to go slowly now."
"Okay," she answered, unsure she wanted to follow him anywhere but sure that she could stall.
"Ana is an ex-girlfriend of mine."
"Ex-girlfriend, of course, meaning 'good lay devoid of any emotional attachment or moral obligation.'"
"Let's try this again," Sark sighed. "Ana, for lack of a better or more polite term, is an ex-girlfriend of mine. Due to the special conditions of our liaison's termination, I have reason to believe Ana may be interested in-"
"Breaking your stringy neck into itty bitty bite size pieces?"
"Oh, Sydney," Sark would have shaken his head if he wasn't sure it would hurt. "Itty bitty pieces? Were my polysyllabic words challenging your comprehension?"
"Shut up, Sark. You're lucky these chains are holding me back."
"Well, which is it, Sydney, shut up or explain? Have pity on a mere mortal without your ability to multitask."
"Get a new bone to chew on, Sark! So you know I work for the-"
"Sydney," Sark's tone changed from conversational to curt. "Don't talk about this here."
Chastened, Sydney fell into silence. She realized she had almost revealed her identity as a double-agent in the heart of K-Directorate headquarters. Where is my head? And why did Sark stop me? Maybe he wants to keep the dirty blackmail for himself.
"Now if I may continue?" Sark looked at her expectantly. "I believe the source of Ana's spite is not work-related but, shall we say, more an effect of the recreational aspect of your life."
Sydney pursed her lips but refused to comment otherwise.
"To be more explicit, Ana is jealous of your association with me."
"I don't know why. I told Ana she was welcome to you."
Sark had the audacity to look wounded. "I am not to be given away like so much refuse."
"Could have fooled me."
"Your wit is as keen as your bright beauty," he responded. "You see, Sydney, how comfortable we are together, even in this desolate cell? Is it any wonder Ana is envious of our connection?"
"You've got to be kidding me. If she's so concerned with our connection, why did she stick us in the same cell?"
"Were you not listening earlier? There's a power play going on here."
"I don't even know where here is."
"We're five miles out of Moscow. Underground, in the remains of K- Directorate's headquarters. Not only does Ana have access to a limited amount of space, but she's probably trying to conceal your identity. Ana still does have superiors, you know, and their plans for you could not possibly coincide with hers."
"That's a lot of information Sark, thank you for enlightening me. But I can't help but wonder exactly how you came by that intel. As a matter of professional courtesy, could you share the technique with me? I've never encountered a method that entailed hickies."
Sark glared at her.
Yeah, where are the dreamboat eyes now, Sark? Goodbye, azure orbs. Hello, really pissed off stare. This is more like it.
Sydney took great satisfaction in Sark's stony quiet, but still prepared herself for the rejoinder he was sure to throw.
It never came.
Being closer to the door, Sark heard the guards coming before she did. Slowly, he drew himself up to full height and stood straight-backed when two guards entered the cell.
"Espinosa will see you now," one of the guards looked to Sydney. "Both of you."
While one guard handcuffed Sark, the other worked on Sydney's restraints. When she was allowed to stand, she saw a third guard through the glass in the door and decided to wait for a better opportunity to escape.
Instead she took her frustrations out on Sark. Sandwiched between guards, she was able to lean forward, into him, for a second before the guards pulled her roughly away.
When her had lips hovered above his ear, she had whispered, "I still don't believe you, but that doesn't mean I can't blame you for everything that happens here. Every single thing."