Natasha answered it, sounding flat and groggy.
‘Hi, Natasha, sorry to bother you but I need to speak to you about something.’ As quietly as she could so as not to wake the sleeping figure in the pod opposite her, Francesca explained her fears.
‘I’m sorry, Fran, but I promised Daniele I wouldn’t let you talk me out of it,’ she replied with sympathy. ‘It’s for your own safety.’
‘But it’ll be impossible for me to be effective if this man can veto all my decisions.’
‘He can’t veto anything.’
‘He can. If he decides it isn’t safe for me to be somewhere or to do something he can put a stop to everything. Your addendum gives him all the power.’
‘It isn’t that bad.’
‘It is. He can call a halt to the whole project if I don’t do exactly as he says!’
Natasha sighed. ‘I’m sorry but I made a promise. Daniele is very concerned about your state of mind. We all are. Pieta’s death...’ Her voice faltered then lowered to a whisper. ‘It’s hit you hard. Felipe will keep you safe and stop you making any rash decisions while you’re there. Please, try to understand. We’re only doing what’s best for you.’
If Francesca didn’t know how fragile Natasha’s own state of mind was she’d be tempted to shout down the phone that she was perfectly capable of deciding what was best for herself. But shouting would only prove that she was unstable when right now she needed to convince them all that she was perfectly sane and rational.
Daniele had brainwashed her sister-in-law. It was him she needed to speak to. If she could convince him the addendum was unnecessary then Natasha would agree to cancel it.
‘Thanks anyway,’ she whispered.
Her next call was to Daniele. She wasn’t surprised when it went to voicemail. The rat would be avoiding her.
She left a short message in as sweet a tone as she could muster. ‘Daniele, we need to talk. Call me back as soon as you get this.’
Proud that she hadn’t sworn at him, she put her phone on the ledge by her pod bed. She had never failed to bend Daniele to her will before but this was a situation unlike any other. Cajoling him into buying her a dress for a ball—she was independent but not stupid—was one thing; persuading him to scrap a contract drawn up to keep her safe was a different matter.
‘You won’t get him to change his mind,’ came the deep rumbling tone from the pod bed opposite, not sounding the slightest bit sleepy.
So the sneak had been awake all the time, listening to her conversations.
She threw the bedsheets off and got to her feet. ‘I will. Just watch me.’
With no chance of getting any sleep she might as well have a shower and get herself ready for their arrival in the Caribbean.
* * *
Felipe ate eggs Benedict while waiting for Francesca to finish using the bathroom and adjacent dressing room. After nine hours on the plane he could do with another shower too. They’d be landing in Aguadilla in an hour, his Cessna at the ready to take them straight on to Caballeros and her meeting with the Governor.
He just hoped she was mentally prepared for what she would find there.
He understood her hostility. He’d never liked being subordinate to anyone either. Being in the forces had taught him obedience to orders but that had been a necessary part of any soldier’s training. There was a chain of command and for anyone in that link to break it would see the whole chain collapse. He hadn’t liked it but had seen the necessity of it and so had accepted it. Eventually he had climbed the chain so he had been the one giving the orders and now he commanded hundreds of men whose jobs took them all over the globe. Francesca would have to accept his authority in turn. Her safety was paramount. He wouldn’t hesitate to pull her out if he thought it necessary.
Eventually she emerged from the dressing room.
‘You look better,’ he said, although it was an inadequate response to the difference from when she’d stepped onto the plane. Now she wore a tailored navy suit with tiny white lines racing the length of the jacket and tight trousers. Under the jacket was a black shirt and on her feet tan heels. Her lustrous black hair had been plaited and coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck. The effect managed to be professional and, he would guess, fashionable. It would certainly get her taken more seriously than the outfit she’d originally worn.
She answered with a tight smile and removed her laptop from the drawer a member of the cabin crew had put it in.
He got to his feet and stretched. ‘I’m going to have a shower. Make sure you eat, we’ll be landing in an hour.’
As he strolled past her he inhaled a fresh, delicate perfume and almost paused in his stride to inhale it again. Francesca smelled as good as she looked.
It didn’t matter how good she smelt or how sexy she was, he reminded himself as he stripped off his suit, this was work where liaisons of anything but the professional kind were strictly forbidden. He had the clause written in all his employees’ contracts for good reason. Their work was dangerous and needed a clear head. Any hint that the relationship between employee and client had crossed the line was grounds for instant dismissal.
Francesca could be Aphrodite herself and he would still keep his distance.
He switched the shower on and waited for the water to warm. And waited some more. Francesca had spent so long in it she’d used all the hot water.
He shook his head as he realised it had likely been deliberate.
‘How was your shower?’ she asked innocently when he returned to the cabin.
‘Cold.’
Her lips twitched but she didn’t look up from her laptop.
‘After eight years in the forces where bathing of any kind was rare, any shower’s a good one,’ he said drily. ‘But that’s irrelevant to the job in hand so tell me what the game plan is.’
‘You’re not going to tell me what it is now you’re in charge?’ She didn’t attempt to hide her bitterness.
‘It’s still your project. I’m in charge of your safety. If you’re prepared to accept my authority with that, I’m happy to follow your lead.’ He wanted this project to succeed as much as she did and knew the best way to stop her doing anything rash was to let her think she had some control. ‘You have a meeting with the Governor of San Pedro in four hours. What are you hoping to achieve?’
Looking slightly mollified, she said, ‘His agreement for the sale of the land that Pieta earmarked.’
‘That’s it?’
‘The Governor is married to the Caballeron President’s sister and given the job directly from the President himself. If he agrees there’s no one left to object and I can start organising everything properly.’
‘And if he refuses?’
She grimaced. ‘I don’t want
