This morning found her in bed still tied up in knots. Her brain said to run for the green hills of home. Her body ached to discover what the outcome of such unadulterated passion was. She kept her ears tuned to the sky, anticipating and dreading the return of Leeteuk’s helicopter.

His summons to Riyadh was a blessing she was in way over her head where he was concerned. Everything about Leeteuk exuded experience and sophistication. What did she know about passionate, devastatingly attractive men? From the time she was twenty years old, she’d had her nose stuck in a book or her head under hood. All the men she knew either treated her like a kid sister of a daughter. If there had been any men that hadn’t treated her that way, she hadn’t noticed.

Thank goodness her mind overruled her body in this instance, because being treated like a desirable, attractive woman was a role that she couldn’t instantly het accustomed to. In a foreign land, she reasoned, everything would be more exotic and appealing because it was new to her. She simply must not allow her libido to surface again.

Last night after Leeteuk’s helicopter departed, Sora discovered that she was not locked within the opulent suite of rooms. She had freedom to wander and explore the massive house.

Ali had serve her late, solitary meal after dark. Not that she found much interest with in food. As for going to bed, she had slept so long, the last thing she wanted was to sleep some more. She wouldn’t have minded jogging five or six miles.

She was force to settle for a restless stroll about the grounds at midnight, which reinforced her suspicion that she did not have the freedom to exit the sheik’s residence. Armed sentries manned gates that were securely barred and locked.

So the night passed, a long dismal time because her inner clock was completely out of sync.

After the sun rose, Sora wandered through the whole complex by daylight, familiarizing herself with the layout of the rooms and the security in lace during daylight. She looked for the chink in the armour and found it in the most unlikely place. The palace kitchen.

Earlier, she had paused to admire the array of vehicles the sheik kept at hand for his use. A new Range Rover, to beautiful Mercedes and two rather plain but off-used jeeps. The building itself have no alarm system and the cars were equipped with antitheft devices. Pretending ignorant, she deliberately touched the hood of one of the Mercedes. The man polishing the Range Rover had a good laugh at what he thought was her fright and reach inside the cab to shut off the noise.

Mission accomplished, Sora retreated to the rooftop garden to consider her options for escape. She knew what cars were available, what security existed and which exit she had the best chance of breaching.

The battered jeep in the farthermost yard behind the kitchen was her best bet. The gate was ancient and rarely closed since she’d been observing. The jeep was frequent use. Servants jumped into it to scoot the nearby town to make whatever purchases the household needed. 

Sora made particular note of the fact that any woman who left the complex did so wearing an abba, a black garment that obscure all features from view. None went unescorted. A bandido manning the gate with a rifle slung over his back drove the jeep both coming and going. That more than anything else, brought home to Sora the truth that was Saudi Arabia.