Volkan was preparing lunch and, glancing at the clock, she realized it was 11:30. Only a few hours until their flight.

“Can I help?” she asked.

Volkan looked at her and lifted a brow, but he said, “Of course, aşkım. Come finish with these vegetables while I take the pitas out of the oven.”

He handed Yasmin the knife and turned his back.

She stood clutching the knife and staring. He’d just given her a weapon. She could stab him and escape.

No, she couldn’t. Not any more than she could harm his guards the night before. Plus, if she somehow incapacitated Volkan, how would she get past the guards that would inevitably be waiting for her on the other side of the door? No, she needed to stick with her earlier plan. Show Volkan that she could be a good little captive, get him to drop his guard, then get the heck away from him.

Taking a deep breath, she forced the tension from her shoulders and concentrated on the task at hand. Slicing the tomatoes, onion, and avocado in front of her.

Volkan took four pitas from the oven and laid them out on a long wooden board. As she chopped, he filled the pitas with the vegetables, feta, cold chicken, and some chickpeas. He squeezed some lemon and sprinkled cilantro over them, then carried the platter to the table.

Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Yasmin followed, lured by the delicious aroma of the warm pitas. Volkan held her seat out for her and pushed her chair in as she sat. He left for a moment, coming back with a bottle of white wine and two glasses, and took the seat next to her. He poured the wine, then reached for a pita.

They ate in silence, sipping their wine and enjoying the view of London from the penthouse windows.

When she’d eaten her fill, Yasmin picked up her wineglass and relaxed against the back of her chair. She closed her eyes and took a long sip, savouring the moment. If she was honest with herself, it was perfect.

Not Volkan, of course, but the moment.

She was in an incredible high-rise penthouse, having just finished a delicious meal while sipping an incredible wine. She wore designer clothes and the man who insisted on lavishing such riches on her was wildly handsome. The only problem with her perfect moment? His personality.

Maybe if he never spoke again, she could grow to enjoy this lifestyle. She glanced sideways at him. He’d also have to quit touching her without permission, call off his guard dogs, and he definitely had to stop drugging her.

She giggled as she imagined telling him she’d be happy to stay with him forever if he completely changed his personality and stopped talking.

“What is it?” he asked, his lips curling in amusement.