him. If he could tune her out he would be fine. But he already knew tuning Francesca Pellegrini out was near on impossible.
One night alone in a suite with her he could handle. Any longer than that...
‘I’m taking you back to Pisa in the morning,’ he told her as he placed his toiletry bag with the rest of his kit, bracing himself for the furious protest that was bound to follow.
‘No way,’ she snapped, her nonchalance gone in an instant, just as he’d expected.
‘It’s too dangerous for you here. Pisa is safe. If I could take you back now I would but the quickest I can get a jet here is for early tomorrow morning and there’s no commercial flights leaving any sooner. We’ll leave first thing.’
‘I’m not abandoning the project. No way.’
‘You won’t be abandoning it.’ He would not allow her to set foot in that country again. ‘You’ve got the agreement for the sale and met with the government’s health representative. I’ll get the cash to the Governor. Everything else can be handled by Daniele—he’s the one who’ll be getting the hospital built.’
‘I’m going to the Governor’s party,’ she told him obstinately. ‘If I don’t attend he will see it as an insult and withdraw his permission and the hospital will never be built.’
Felipe swore loudly.
Damn it, she was right.
He thought quickly. The party was four days away. Plenty of time to draw up effective plans to protect both Francesca and the money.
‘I’ll fly you back for the party,’ he said with a curt nod. ‘But we leave here first thing in the morning. You’ll be a sitting target if you stay. I’m taking you home where you’ll be safe and I will have no further argument about it. When I bring you back, you will have nothing to do with the handover of the money. You will do exactly as you’re told.’
He zipped his kitbag with more force than necessary and waited for another onslaught.
He knew he sounded like a tyrant but didn’t care. The cold fear he’d experienced when he’d recognised that car had been like nothing he’d ever felt before, not even when he’d realised too late he’d led his men into a trap.
But no explosion came.
When he next looked at her, Francesca’s legs were crossed, her fingers laced together, a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face as she studied him. Then her lips curved into a smile and she said, ‘Does this mean we get to share a nightcap now?’
‘I’M HUNGRY.’
A whole hour they’d been in her suite. A whole hour in which Felipe had ignored her existence, setting himself up with his laptop on the bureau in the corner.
For her part, Francesca had sat herself on the huge bed and watched him as studiously as he’d ignored her.
She could sense his awareness of her. It was in his every move, as strong as her awareness of him. The only difference was his resolve to pretend it didn’t exist. His ridiculous rule of no relations with the client meant he was determined to fight it.
He regarded her as his responsibility and was doing everything in his power to keep her in the box he’d cast her in.
Well, she was determined to do everything in her power to pull herself out of that same box.
‘I’m hungry,’ she repeated.
He didn’t look up from his laptop. ‘You’re always hungry. Order room service.’
‘I had room service last night. It’s only seven o’clock. If I spend another evening stuck in here, I’ll get cabin fever. I’m going to get something to eat—are you coming with me?’
Now his eyes darted to hers and narrowed.
‘I’ve agreed to go home in the morning,’ she said sweetly, ‘and I understand why you feel I need your full protection tonight. But I’m not going to be a prisoner in this suite. If you don’t want to eat with me, call one of your men stationed around the hotel to join me instead.’ She knew he would never go for that. She also knew that trying to draw him into conversation while in her suite would be akin to drawing blood from a stone. Without a laptop to hide behind he would be forced to talk to her.
Fury mounted in his returning glare but Francesca kept her gaze steady.
Then his glare turned into a look that could solidify gel. ‘We eat, we come back. No drinking and no dancing. Is that understood?’
‘Why don’t you write it on a piece of paper so I don’t forget? I’ll sign it for you if you like.’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ he growled.
‘I’m doing my very best there.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’m going to take a shower and make myself look beautiful before we leave. Is that okay with you, my lord and master?’
Certain he was cursing her in Spanish under his breath, Francesca sauntered to the bathroom.
Felipe waited for the click of the bathroom door’s lock. When it didn’t come he swore again. She’d deliberately left it unlocked.
He rubbed a knuckle to his forehead, trying not to think about what was going on behind the unlocked door.
Making herself look beautiful? It wasn’t possible for Francesca to be more desirable than she already was.
The sound of the shower running came through the walls.
Do not think of her naked.
An email pinged into his inbox and he seized on the distraction; a recce report by a team of his men in North Africa in preparation for a business trip by the head of an American petroleum company.
He’d almost finished writing his reply when the bathroom door opened.
He looked up before he could stop himself.
Dios, Francesca had only a towel around herself.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she said demurely, brushing past him and leaving a cloud of fruity scent in her wake, ‘I’m just going to get changed.’
Gritting his teeth to counteract his thickening blood, he looked again at the email he was replying to.
She might as well have fired a bullet into his brain his concentration was so shot.
He blinked to refocus but, even when she disappeared into her dressing room, all he could see were bare slender arms and long black hair that, when wet, fell all the way to the base of her spine, almost touching the curvaceous bottom the white towel hugged so beautifully.
He knuckled his forehead and swore violently. She was taunting him. Tempting him. It was in her every look, her every movement.
The
