As soon as he’s done, I twist around in Julian’s arms to look at him. “Who was that man?”

“Frank is one of my contacts at the CIA,” Julian replies, confirming my earlier supposition. “A paper pusher, but one who’s quite good at his job.”

“Ah, I thought so.” Beginning to feel restless, I push at Julian’s chest, needing to get up. He releases me, watching with a faint smile as I back up a couple of steps, then prop my hip against the desk and give him a questioning look. “What was that about Israelis and the bus? And Syria?”

“According to one of my Al-Quadar guests, there is an attack planned on a tour bus in Tel-Aviv,” Julian explains, leaning back in his chair. “I notified the Mossad—the Israeli intelligence agency—about it earlier today.”

“Oh.” I frown. “So why did Frank object to that?”

“Because the Americans have a savior complex—or would like the Israelis to think they do. They want this information to be coming from them instead of me, so that the Mossad owes them a favor.”

“Ah, I see.” And I do. I’m beginning to understand how this game works. In the shadowy world of intelligence agencies and off-the-record politics, favors are like currency—and my husband is rich in more ways than one. Rich enough to ensure that he would never be prosecuted for petty crimes like kidnapping or illegal arms dealing. “And you want Frank to give you some info to leak to Syria, so they owe you a favor, right?”

Julian grins at me, white teeth flashing. “Yes, indeed. You’re a quick study, my pet.”

“Why did you decide to let me listen in today?” I ask, eyeing him curiously. “Why today of all days?”

Instead of responding, he rises to his feet and comes toward me. Stopping next to me, he bends forward and places his hands on the desk on both sides of my body, trapping me again. “Why do you think, Nora?” he murmurs, leaning closer. His breath is warm against my cheek, and his arms are like steel beams surrounding me. It makes me feel like a small animal caught in a hunter’s snare—an unsettling sensation that nonetheless turns me on.

“Because we’re married?” I guess in an uneven voice. His face is mere inches from mine, and my lower belly tightens with a strong surge of arousal as he nudges his hips forward, letting me feel his hardening erection.

“Yes, baby, because we’re married,” he says huskily, his eyes darkening with lust as my peaked nipples brush against his chest, “and because I think you’re no longer as fragile as you seem…”

And lowering his head, he captures my mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss, his hands sliding up my thighs with familiar intent.

Over the next few days, I learn more about Julian’s dark empire, and I begin to understand how little most people know about what goes on behind the scenes. None of what I hear in Julian’s office ever shows up on the news… because if it did, heads would roll, and some very important people would end up in jail.