Мишель Смарт – Bound To A Billionaire: Protecting His Defiant Innocent (Bound to a Billionaire) / Claiming His One-Night Baby / Buying His Bride of Convenience (страница 13)
‘Natasha and Pieta often went months without seeing each other,’ she pointed out. ‘It didn’t do them any harm and they were together for years.’
That’s what she thought.
But Felipe wouldn’t say anything negative about her brother when his coffin had only just been lowered into the ground. One day the truth he suspected—and he had no proof, only a gut instinct—about her brother would come out as the truth always did. He just hoped she was in the right mental space to cope with it when it did.
‘Pieta was a very different man to me and when I disappear it’s usually into danger. My business comes first. It has to. My men are deployed to the world’s most dangerous hotspots where situations are fluid. Every eventuality has to be catered for. A call can come in at any time for an evacuation.’
‘What if something were to go wrong with one of the jobs while you’re here dining with me?’ she asked reasonably.
He held his phone up. ‘This is a satellite phone. It’s standard military issue. All my men have one. They allow us to communicate with each other wherever we are in the world and the encryption means no one can hack them.’
‘So if one of your clients or men were to get into trouble right now, you’d sort it all out sitting here with me?’
‘My headquarters are manned twenty-four seven. There are protocols in place for every eventuality. But if anything untoward were to happen I’d be kept informed throughout.’ Situations happened all the time. It was the nature of the job. People needed his protection for very good reasons and they hired his firm because they were guaranteed the best. In the ten years since he’d formed the firm, no client had ever come to harm.
‘But if anything were to happen right now, you wouldn’t personally be involved with solving it,’ she persisted. ‘So if you have the staff in place to keep everything running during your absences, there’s nothing to stop you having a relationship.’
‘I’m only ever absent from headquarters when I’m on a job. Being the boss means having all the responsibility if anything goes wrong.’ He would not allow anything to go wrong.
Her eyes narrowed then began to dance. ‘You sound like a man making excuses. Has a woman broken your heart?’
‘No woman has ever got close.’ And no woman ever would. During his army career he’d been happy to play the field—many women loved a man in uniform. He’d watched friends and colleagues settle down and seen the pressure starting families had had on them, how it could affect their focus and priorities, and had decided to wait until he left the forces before finding someone to settle down with. Then his unit had been flown in to handle a hostage situation, his life had gone to hell and thoughts of a family destroyed with it. He was better off on his own. Solitude was what he’d grown up with, what he was used to. Safer.
He thought of Sergio. He thought of Sergio’s wife and unborn child. He thought about the hostages they’d been trying to save, half of whom hadn’t made it out alive. Sergio hadn’t made it out alive either, a memory that still had the power to sear him. His child was now a healthy nine-year-old growing up with a father he would only see in photographs.
Francesca didn’t say anything, just stared at him with those beguiling light brown eyes that seemed to drink him in...
Without warning, she got to her feet, her face breaking into a beaming smile. ‘I love this song! Let’s dance.’
The jazz band had finished their set and now a DJ was playing to the full crowd.
‘I don’t dance.’
‘Then I shall dance on my own.’ And with that she finished her coffee and glided to the dance floor, her shoulders and hips swaying to the music he vaguely recognised, her long ebony hair shimmering in the lights.
Without an ounce of self-consciousness, Francesca threw her arms in the air and began to dance. The joy on her face must have been infectious because a couple of women hurried onto the floor to join her, the three of them immediately dancing and singing together as if they’d known each other for years.
He should leave her on the dance floor and go to bed. He wasn’t her babysitter. His protection of her did not involve making sure she was safely tucked up at night. Judging by the animation on her face and in her body she’d found her second wind and wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon.
Felipe sighed and signalled to a passing waiter for another beer.
He couldn’t leave her.
And neither could he take his eyes from her.
He accepted his beer with a nod of thanks.
He sipped it slowly, watching her dance.
How could someone be so uninhibited? Did it come naturally to her or was it something she’d forced herself to be? He suspected it was the former, that this woman on the dance floor was the closest to the real Francesca he’d seen in their short time together.
It felt as if he’d been in her company for weeks.
She kept glancing at him, sometimes overtly, beckoning him with a finger to join her, to which he always shook his head.
Hell would freeze over before he’d dance with anyone, let alone Francesca Pellegrini. Watching her move and imagining her body flush against his own was enough torture to inflict on himself.
And sometimes her glances were fleeting, as if she couldn’t help but look. Just as he couldn’t help but look at her.
He shifted in his seat then smiled sardonically when a waiter brought the three dancing ladies a cocktail each. So much for his keen attention to detail—he’d no idea how or when she’d ordered them but seeing as they were Tequila Sunrises, he knew damn well they’d come from Francesca.
She met his eye again and winked, then drank her cocktail and returned to dancing with gusto.
The bubble of laughter swelling inside him died on his lips when one of her straps fell down her slender arm. She giggled and pulled it up, only for it to fall straight back down again.
The attraction Felipe had been trying to contain all night seemed to burst through him, the pulsing music dimming to a background noise as blood roared through his ears.
Shoving his chair back, he got to his feet.
It was time to call it a night before he did something he regretted, like joining Francesca on the dance floor and holding her so close she’d be able to feel his desire for herself.
FELIPE MADE IT out of the restaurant and was halfway across the atrium when he heard light footsteps behind him.
‘You left without me!’ she accused.
He closed his eyes tightly and prayed for strength.
When he opened them he found Francesca’s beautiful face gazing up at him, her skin glowing from her exertion on the dance floor. She didn’t look upset at him leaving. If anything, she looked far too knowing.
‘We weren’t on a date and it’s late,’ he felt compelled to remind her. And remind himself. When she looked at him like that...
‘Have I annoyed you again?’
He could laugh at her lack of guile. How many times had he heard his colleagues complain that women never made it easy for them, always expecting them to read their minds and know when something was wrong rather than just coming out and saying it? There was none of that with Francesca. Her emotions were always on the surface.
‘No, you haven’t annoyed me.’
‘Good.’ She tucked her arm through his. ‘Then you can walk me back to my room.’
If she didn’t look so unsteady on her feet he would shake her off.
He was annoyed enough with himself for allowing their meal drag on so long and for hanging around to watch her dance when he should have taken the earliest opportunity to escape.
His heart sinking in rhythm with his warming skin, Felipe took a deep breath and led the way.
‘I’ve had a wonderful evening,’ she said. ‘Thank you for keeping me company.’
‘No problem.’
‘And you?’ When he didn’t answer, she prompted, ‘Have you had a nice evening?’
That was a question he was not prepared to answer with anything more than a noncommittal grunt.
Thankfully they’d reached her door, allowing him to remove his arm from her hold and step back.
She rummaged in her bag and found her key card and immediately dropped it.
‘Oops.’
‘I’ll get it,’ he muttered.
He scooped it up and swiped the lock for her, then opened the door.
‘Do you want to come in?’
He shook his head.
‘The bar’s got beer in it,’ she said temptingly.
‘I’ve had enough to drink.’ He’d drunk only half of what she had but, as he’d reminded himself a dozen times throughout their meal, he was working. All that dancing had probably worked a lot of the alcohol out of her system but she was by no means sober. And she’d had the extra cocktail on the dance floor...
Yes, there was no way she was sober. Felipe was used to drinking with hardened men, not slender—but curvy, Dios, he could not get those curves out of his mind—women.
She bit her lip then tilted her head. ‘Don’t you find me attractive?’
God give him strength.