BOOK 9

Lohano Tiki drove his bright yellow Ferrari up the long gravel incline and parked in front of the huge pillared portico that was the entrance to the Black Orchid Palace.

He climbed out of the car, and quickly ducked down to check his hair in the wing-mirror.

Good. Nicely wind-ruffled and carefree.

A handsome, square-jawed face looked back at him, tanned a deeper colour by the desert sun.

By the Nevadan desert sun, to be exact.

His shirt was dazzling white and casually opened at the throat to reveal a strong dark column of neck and the first few wisps of dark chest hair.

His jacket was white linen, faultlessly tailored, his slacks a dark green. His loafers came from Rome. His only piece of jewellery was a modest, leather-strapped watch from Switzerland.

He was dressing to impress Koki’Hana as much as his rebellious and strong-willed granddaughter.

He sprang lithely up the four rounded steps, that were spread out like a fan and led to the huge, impressive, carved oak doors of the palace