Sky High

By Madelon Smid

Anna Winje arrives in Hong Kong as the new Consul General for Norway. Negotiating the largest and most lucrative shipping deal in the history of the two countries places Anna in a vulnerable position. As factions argue the deal, her life is endangered, but instead of hiding, she accepts help from Anton and bravely protects her country’s interests. Powerful industrialist, Anton Zhang heads the largest corporation involved in the deal. He shields Anna at the request of his government, taking her to his island compound. Together, they withstand escalating attacks - unclear who is the target and who the enemy. Close proximity and danger build into a potent attraction that increases the stakes. Anton's love for the courageous Anna is instant and all consuming, but she does not believe she can attract and hold the brilliant younger man. Anna will sacrifice her deal and her life if it will keep Anton alive. Anton vows he will safeguard not only her life, but her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781509218035

Madelon Smid

Madelon Smid is nature's child and happiest when she's kayaking a river or skiing down a mountain. Her characters share her love of adventure, risk and living fully. An avid reader, she discovered the romance novel at fourteen, then found writing them even more satisfying and sold her first romance in 1991. She parted ways with her first love - romance, to build a successful career as a nonfiction writer, co-authoring the Canadian Best Sellers Smart Women and Smart Women Get Smarter. The desire to spin fantasy into gold for her readers drew her back. She lives with her husband by a lake in Saskatchewan, where she writes about the strength and passion women and men demonstrate when they conquer the trials of life and love.

Book preview

Inc.

Anton, she choked out.

Her tongue stroked moisture over her lips. Anton. Someone shot me. Shock dilated her pupils.

I have you, Anna. You’re safe. Just hold on until the medics get here. Ruthlessly, he tore six inches off the bottom of her knee-length skirt and formed a thick pad.

She bit into her plush bottom lip, as he pressed hard against the wound. He wished he could absorb her pain into himself. Sweat trickled in a line down his spine, but he knew she’d die if he didn’t slow the bleeding.

Her breathing became harsher. Had the bullet meant for him nicked her lung? He wrenched his mind back from self-blame. Anna needed his total attention.

Her fingers fluttered above the wound, her eyes questioning. Am I going to die, Anton?

He grasped her blood-stained fingers in one hand, noting her chilled flesh. No. I won’t let you die, he promised.

Praise for Madelon Smid

"CLIMBING HIGH [is an] amazing story, carefully crafted for her suspense, intrigue, romance, action, adventure, erotica. Rich language and details bring the character to life. I love language and marked many notable phrases to ponder."

~Reviewer, Audio Book

~*~

"HIGH GROUND is a gripping read featuring characters at the height of their careers, who need each other more than they know."

~Fresh Fiction Review

~*~

This action thriller will hook you, mercilessly drag you in, and will expose to you the emotional damage our military, law enforcement, medical, and firefighting professionals too often face alone. Thank you, Madelon.

~CJ Beuhler, author of We ARE Still Here

Sky High

by

Madelon Smid

The Daring Heights Series, Book 6

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Sky High

COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Madelon Smid

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Diana Carlile

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Crimson Rose Edition, 2017

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1802-8

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1803-5

The Daring Heights Series, Book 6

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Nona,

who embodies the strength and perseverance

of her Norwegian ancestors;

with thanks for the laughter and love

she shares with her family.

She enriches our lives.

With special appreciation for my editor,

Lori Graham, whose skills and knowledge I value. Thank you for guiding me through

THE DARING HEIGHTS SERIES.

Books in the Daring Heights Series

by Madelon Smid

available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Climbing High

High Ground

High Seas

Reaching High

High Risk

Sky High

Chapter One

From the back, the silver sheath, tracing her body, exposed only her slender arms and an elegant length of neck. She made him think of nights when the full moon threw a net of light over the earth, gathering up mysterious shadows, highlighting secret trysts, and romancing silly novices into love. Like the moon, the dress both showed and shadowed her shape, inspiring unbidden thoughts. Anton Zhang had moved steadily closer over the past minutes—elongated time, stretched by people wanting a moment with a man both distant and mysterious, a powerhouse whose presence stimulated the room. As the Secretary of the Security Bureau bowed in greeting, Anton shifted, obtaining a side view of the woman holding all his attention. He soaked in the slender shape of her hip and bottom and the well-toned arm hanging relaxed at her side. The dress rose high at the neck, cupping small, shapely breasts. Fine boned, her body attracted him. She seemed ethereal, as separated from the crowded room as Anton felt.

From the age of three, Anton had decided what he wanted and gone after it with intensity—not by crying, whining, or flashing his beautiful smile. He used his intellect, never, for a moment, assuming someone else would hand him his desire. For someone had taken everything he’d loved away from him, without asking his permission.

When Anton wanted something, he planned and went after it with determination and drive. He was planning now, as he swallowed the last mouthful of champagne and set his glass on the tray of a passing waiter, because what he wanted was across the room. He’d noticed her the minute she’d moved, moonlight shimmering over her dress and pale flesh. Until then her slender form had been just a shadow on the balcony. He’d felt the pinch in his gut, the flare of excitement, and the titillation of a challenge. His desire had only grown, as he’d studied her the last five minutes. Plan in place, outcome a given in his mind, he acted.

With a few words, he had the Secretary of the Security Bureau smiling and weaving through the crowd beside him. A powerful figure in the Hong Kong government, the Secretary still took a subservient stance with a man of Anton’s wealth and influence; he knew providing Anton with a favor would put an additional sliver of power in his pocket.

Finally, Anton had a clear view of her face. He was not disappointed. While many would argue her face held more character than beauty, he was trapped by her eyes, like smoke-colored diamonds, large, brilliant, flawless gems, so rare only hiding them in a vault would safeguard them from the covetous. Her hair, varying shades of gold through red, appeared rose gold in the intricately woven braids that formed an elegant knot at the back of her neck. Her mouth was over generous in the narrow face. Nibbling the plush curve of her bottom lip became a short-term goal, testing his patience. A bump rode the narrow bridge of her nose, but with skin as flawless and luminescent as alabaster, it faded from notice.

He hadn’t taken a lover in sixth months. He’d found no woman who fascinated him, drew his attention, was worth the energy of the chase. Now he had. He would dream about this woman tonight, bring this stranger into his fantasies.

Gray eyes lifted and acknowledged his approach. The dreamy softness, induced by the moonlit ocean vista she’d been absorbing, sharpened with awareness, brightened with intelligence, and fixed on him like a laser of light.

He noted the slight bracing of her body, the calm mask that settled over her face as he drew nearer. He recognized resistance. Her wariness only made him more certain he would know her in every way.

Ms. Anna Winje, may I introduce Mr. Anton Zhang, the Secretary spoke. He is a member of the trade council and CEO of the largest corporation involved in the negotiations between your country and ours.

Moving up beside the Secretary, Anton put his palms together and bowed before her. He held the bow a second longer than normal, showing additional respect. Dr. Winje, this lowly businessman is honored. His use of her title winged one of her brows upward. He guessed few acknowledged her considerable body of work in the field of Economics, focusing on her position on the diplomatic ladder of her country instead.

She bowed in turn, then straightening, offered her hand. Mr. Zhang, I, too, am honored. Your reputation for increasing Hong Kong’s trade here and abroad is well known in the economic community. In fact, I based my doctoral dissertation on some of your ideology. Though I’ve been in Hong Kong a matter of hours, rumors of your ability abound in the Norwegian consulate. Meeting the man behind the work is a pleasure.

I understand you will be sworn in as the Norwegian Consul General to Hong Kong at the end of the week. I hope your tenure here is pleasurable. Hong Kong welcomes you with open arms. If I can be of service, please don’t hesitate.

Thank you. I will keep that in mind. A light tug removed her hand from his gentle hold. She searched his features without the awed look that generally rode the faces of women and men who’d seen him for the first time, or even a fourth. He knew his exotic dark look, combined with midnight-blue eyes and a body honed by years of martial arts, had quite a punch. He’d born the embarrassment of fawning women and envious men all his twenty-six years. His step-sisters, Tè and Lee teased him about his conquests, women employees stuttered and blushed when he entered one of his many corporate buildings, and nurses at the hospital in Vancouver, where Tè had recovered only last year, had followed him in squads. His male beauty caused him endless discomfort. Yet, her eyes searched past his surface physicality, looking for something deeper. Her cool assessment pleased him, even while a niggling concern she would not find what she sought caused him a rare loss of confidence.

Please call me Anton, Anna. He laid the ground rules between them with his easy use of her name, insisting they move past formality and into the intimacy he wished. His face expressed none of his thoughts, for he’d learned early displaying emotion diminished his power. Keeping his thoughts buried as deeply as an ancient scroll had earned him a reputation as an enigmatic man. Unfortunately, mystery also called forth a greater level of fascination in people.

One brow arched higher than the other, while she met his gaze steadily and weighed his silent message. Her mouth dimpled at each corner. The idea of dipping his tongue into the hollows and tasting them preceded all other thought.

Anton. Not your typical Chinese name. She put the emphasis on the first syllable in the correct way.

You will recognize it as Norwegian, after my maternal grandfather. So you see Norway links us more closely than you thought.

I don’t form hasty conclusions. She let him know with a firm look he could not stampede her into liking him. A country can mean everything, or nothing, held up against an individual’s agenda. But the fact you are half Norwegian does answer one of my questions.

And what question is that? He moved closer, intrigued by her cool viewpoint.

It explains your unique appearance. She stated it as a fact, no coyness or flirtation from her. Your parents must have been beautiful people.

I remember them that way. His answer surprised him. He never spoke of his parents and certainly not with a stranger. What made him respond so openly to her? I remember them always laughing. His voice warmed as an image of them took hold; then he snapped off the thought, like a branch of blossoms from a cherry tree.

But they died when I was just a boy, he told her, his face inscrutable, his tone giving nothing more away.

Your looks must make your life one big evasion. She let her gaze wander his face. I imagine you use them like a tool—or weapon.

This time, her perception surprised him. He did take advantage of the instant reaction of people who first saw him. Their small hesitations gave him the edge in reading them and their motives. In the time he gained, while they reacted, he turned a situation in the direction he desired.

She hadn’t needed that recovery time but, instead, had used it well, teasing a private thought from him as easily as a pickpocket lifted a wallet. He focused on her eyes, read the intelligence.

Anna, I believe I’ve underestimated you. He let admiration shade his voice.

Her lips curved, this time in a genuine smile of pleasure.

Will you waltz with me, Anna? He nodded toward the ballroom, as a Viennese waltz floated its notes across the space. Her brows drew together as, once again, she considered his use of her first name. He’d chosen the intimate address on purpose, telling her he’d studied her background; he approached her as a woman, not a diplomat. The woman rejected his invitation, her expression cooling. The diplomat accepted, with a slight nod.

She gave the moonlit waves one last look, as if sorry she must leave them, and took Anton’s outstretched hand. He walked her off the balcony, into the ballroom, turned her into his arms, and absorbed the perfect fit of their bodies. Deftly, he guided her into the crowd and around the perimeter of the marble floor. She moved like a slender taper, controlled, proficient. He picked up the pace, his lean thigh snugging between hers as they rotated, providing a pivot on which she could turn. He knew the instant she gave into the music, handed control over, and burst into flame. Her lower body softened, flowed against his, while her upper body maintained the laid-back posture of the waltz, her head tilted away from him and to the side. She became a conduit for the music, as the lilting tempo flowed through her and into him. They moved like one.

He didn’t attempt conversation, wanted no distraction from the feel of her in his arms. He leaned closer, absorbing the subtle floral scent she wore, the silk of her hand resting in his, the warmth of her body against his palm. Now, when he wished time stretched, minutes to months, it raced ahead, as if competing with the accelerated beat of his heart. He edged her toward the balcony, wanting to share the moonlit vista with her. The orchestra played a last note; the dancers stopped. His gaze locked with Anna’s. She blinked, once, twice, stepped out of his hold, framed by the wide doorway open to the exotic night.

He signaled a circulating waiter, handed her a glass of champagne, and took one for himself. A toast to your success, Anna. I hope you find the same pleasure in your new position as I found in our dance.

Already, men and women nearby had locked onto their presence and were moving closer. He nudged Anna into the shadows of the balcony, turned his back, and screened her as she stood near the balustrade. Her smile lit her face, sent sparkles of light dancing in her eyes. The warm tones of her Norwegian accent, curled around Anton, upping his interest another notch.

It must get awfully tiring, she suggested, glancing over his shoulder and nodding toward a striking brunette, who stared at him avidly.

He pretended ignorance. Dancing with a beautiful woman? Never.

My briefing on you said you were all business, nothing about being a flirt. Her eyes mocked him.

I seldom have the inclination. He looked into his flute. They must have slipped a flirting potion into the champagne.

She lifted her glass, studied the rising bubbles. Then I won’t indulge. She gestured at a passing waiter and asked for sparkling water.

Anton almost smiled at her skillful word play. Her rejection caused his reappraisal and, rather than discouraging him, reinforced his initial intent. Anna Winje proved a worthy opponent—a woman who would hold his interest for some time.

I’ve indulged myself more than is warranted…in dancing, she clarified.

He smiled as she made it clear she had not indulged in him.

I must circulate. She was all duty again. Looking over his shoulder, she gestured to the middle-aged woman hovering nearby. Marguerite, this is Mr. Zhang, with whom Norway is negotiating this trade deal. Marguerite holds the position of Assistant to the Consul General, in other words my right hand, Anna explained to Anton. If you need anything, she will assist you.

Marguerite, I’ll count on you, if I want Dr. Winje’s right hand.

With a last curve of her lips, as she acknowledged his riposte, her gray eyes bright with awareness, Anna slipped around him and melded into a group, once again as cool and distant as moonlight.

The uniqueness of anyone dismissing him left Anton irritated by her temerity one second, inwardly smiling the next. He left the party ten minutes later. A man of action, he had a plan in place. His position in Hong Kong society ensured his name on the guest list for her swearing-in ceremony. In five days, he would see her again, socially, and make certain they moved forward from there. Patience was as much a part of him as his brilliant mind and lethal body. Meanwhile, he’d be negotiating a trade agreement with Dr. Winje that affected billions of dollars and thousands of jobs. Knowing every aspect of the enticing woman would serve both goals.

****

Anna settled at her desk the next morning and looked around her new office with pleasure. Marguerite, you’ve done an excellent job of setting things up the way I like them. Thank you.

Insisting she couldn’t manage without her, Marguerite had followed Anna from her last posting. Trained by Anna’s father, she’d eagerly helped the daughter find her diplomatic feet during her first minor position in the diplomatic world. She knew Anna’s likes and dislikes and kept her office, within the consulates they served, running smoothly.

Your staff members are set up for appointments with you for the next hour. After a short break, you have your meeting with the Minister of Trade at the parliament building in Victoria, followed by another hour of appointments with staff, culminating in your meet and greet here. I’ve set up your staff interviews, taking into account what personnel can be most easily spared at given hours. Right now, the Attaché and other members of your diplomatic staff are available and waiting outside.

Anna was eager for her first look at Victoria, the capitol city of Hong Kong, named while it was part of the British Empire, so she picked up her workload with energy, knowing the sooner she cast it off, the faster she could satisfy her curiosity.

Let’s get going, then. We won’t keep them any longer than necessary. Send in my new attaché.

Anna met and spoke with each person on her staff. Forming her own impression of their character and capabilities would give her an additional advantage in leading the team. She gave her brief session with each her full attention. When a blip on the screen of the conversation raised mild alarms, or the need for additional information, she could count on her excellent memory for back-up. Having read their files ahead of time, she used her trademark warm, informal style of conversation and dug for answers.

Her last six appointments were with her security personnel. Marguerite introduced Eric Gustavson as head of security. A soldier in the Norwegian military, he had reached the rank of Captain before applying for a diplomatic mission. His steel-gray hair and weathered features gave him a harsh appearance.

Anna caught him winking at Marguerite and blinked her eyes when she saw her staid assistant blush and duck her chin, before she scurried from the room.

What is your take on the demonstrations taking place on campus, against an additional Norwegian trade agreement? she asked Eric.

They’re small and rigidly controlled by the state police. I don’t expect them to amount to much or affect your negotiations. His cool blue gaze was fixed somewhere over her left shoulder.

Anna had the urge to swing around and view what so singularly captured his interest. She liked direct eye contact; guessing whether he didn’t meet hers out of shyness, guilt, or a sign of respect left her with several questions tucked in the back of her mind when she dismissed him.

She used her interviews with the soldiers under him effectively, gaining more insight into his leadership skills. For the most part, they respected and supported him. But as four of the six were newly appointed to the consulate, accompanying Anna here and replacing soldiers advancing into new positions, she couldn’t judge if it was the man, or the rank, they respected. She’d assess his command over the next month.

After a brief break in her quarters, a spacious suite taking up half of the third story of the consulate, she set out for her meeting with the Minister. He’d hosted the dinner for her the night before and would chair the Economic Summit she’d attend over the next weeks.

She took in more of the sights as she was driven across central Hong Kong, with Marguerite and Captain Gustavson joining her in the limousine. Two additional security men followed in a second vehicle.

Her meeting with the minister was unexceptional, but she left satisfied they’d created a comfortable rapport between them and that he had both the intelligence and fair mindedness for the tough negotiations ahead. Many countries did not want Norway’s grip on international shipping strengthened. She had a tough fight on her hands, but the Queen had stated she was particularly suited for this assignment and had placed her faith in Anna. Letting her sovereign, or her country, down was not an option.

As the limousine approached the gates of the consulate, Anna sat up and took in the young people loitering in front of the embassy. They carried a banner, written in Cantonese. Anna was fluent in the language, both written and read, and the words started a flutter of alarm. Already, it had begun.

Go home Norwegian traders. Keep our economy pure.

Anna had done her homework and knew a large percentage of students, purporting to represent the poor in their districts, fought the ever increasing growth of big box stores attracting thousands of mainland Chinese to shop in Hong Kong. Taking advantage of the lower taxes, they could get better quality products cheaper, and in bulk, increasing their savings. The students said the shoppers were clogging the transportation systems and putting small retailers in the older sections of the city out of business.

While none of this should impact a shipping agreement between Hong Kong manufacturers and Norwegian carriers, the students saw these agreements as further foreign encroachment and a source of greater supplies of bulk goods.

Anna knew there was little fact or intellect behind the growing demonstrations, but there was a lot of passion and patriotism. The populist movement, already agitated by mainland China’s laws around voting and the insidious spread of Mandarin through the region, fought for their democracy.

As the gates opened,