Chapter Two #2
‘Of course. I just thought you should know where the kitchen was. Security staff will monitor the premises but you won’t see them. Otherwise there’s no staff. You need to know where the food is so you can prepare your meals.’
Alone in this lovely house, free to keep her own hours when she wasn’t attending an event? Despite the headache she’d fought since landing, Rosamund smiled. She could imagine herself breakfasting on the sun-drenched patio. ‘Excellent. I’ll enjoy that. Thank you.’
Rosamund surveyed the place she was to sleep for the next several nights. Tall-ceilinged and elegantly furnished, it managed to be welcoming despite the grandeur of both the sitting area and bedroom. A luxurious, modern bathroom was visible through an open door.
‘It’s a beautiful suite.’
She didn’t care about the antiques or the grandeur. With pain now humming in her temples and growing by the minute, all she cared about was that bed. She imagined lying down and finally closing her eyes.
When she was alone.
She turned, and noticed another door. ‘What’s through there?’
She’d already turned the handle when Fotis Mavridis said, ‘My room.’
Rosamund spun around, grateful for her hold on the doorknob when the world kept spinning and pain notched higher.
‘You said I’d be here alone!’
He stood just inside her doorway, feet apart, hands folded across his broad chest, watching. She refused to admit it but she was beginning to find that too-steady gaze getting on her nerves.
Stupid when she’d spent her life under scrutiny. But this felt different.
You’re tired, that’s all.
‘I said there’d be no staff. I’m your minder, remember?’ His tone held a thread that might have been censure or sarcasm. It was hard to be sure over the painful thud of her pulse in her temples. ‘I need to be close in case there’s a threat.’
She looked down at the door then opened it and looked at the other side. ‘There’s no key.’
‘If there’s a problem I need to be able to get to you quickly.’
Oh, there’s a problem all right. You’re the problem.
As for him getting to her, he was already doing that.
No one since her father had got under her skin but this man excelled at it. Unlike her father, he even managed it with a few laconic phrases or raised eyebrow instead of a full-scale rant.
She turned to find him surveying her. His expression hadn’t changed but abruptly she felt his self-satisfaction. He liked the fact this wasn’t what she wanted.
Tomorrow she’d wonder why. For now she had other priorities.
Pushing weary shoulders back and drawing herself up to her full height, she inclined her head. She’d learned to choose her battles.
Much as she hated the idea of him able to invade her privacy, it was obvious he had no intention of coming to her room. He might be smirking beneath that rigid stare, but he didn’t want to get close to her any more than she wanted him to.
‘How very sensible.’ The pain now was so bad she didn’t even attempt a smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like privacy.’
Without waiting for a reply she turned, picked up her bag and made for the bathroom.
By the time she’d taken some painkillers he was gone. She glanced at the connecting door and pursed her lips. Pulling out the chair at the writing desk near the window, she carried it across and propped it under the doorknob.
There was no key in the door to the hall and nothing she could use to bar it. She’d think about that later.
And about her compulsion to keep Fotis Mavridis at a distance. She didn’t know why he unsettled her so much. It wasn’t just his disapproval. She’d had years of that from her father. There was something else, gnawing at her, making her aware of him, making it impossible to ignore him.
Shucking her shoes and slipping off her jacket, she undid her hair with a sigh of relief and crawled onto the bed, letting herself relax fully as her body met the mattress. It seemed like forever since she’d been able to stop and switch off.
But her last thought was of eyes the colour of the sea, changeable and full of censure.
Fotis spent some time confirming arrangements with the security staff, checking the perimeter cameras and alarms and refamiliarising himself with her schedule.
So many days out of his own schedule to do this favour for the king of Cardona!
But it would pay dividends in the end. Leon had promised his unwavering support for the initiative Fotis had finally got off the ground.
That was all that mattered. For that he’d look after a bevy of beautiful, spoiled, narcissistic princesses!
As day turned to evening Fotis focused on his own work, checking in with staff, catching up on messages, and delving into a draft report on a particularly complex issue prepared by a new but promising staffer. It would need finessing before being presented to the client but the bones were good.
Rolling his shoulders, he realised he’d been sitting too long and glanced at the time.
He frowned. After making coffee and a sandwich hours ago, he’d retreated to his room. No matter his personal views on the woman on the other side of the door, he’d promised to protect her. It was unlikely any threat would reach her here, but he’d given his word. Fotis always kept his word.
Yet there’d been no sound from her room in hours. She hadn’t gone to the kitchen for food or rung out for a delivery. Subconsciously he’d been listening for the sound of her moving around but there’d been nothing.
Why hadn’t he realised before? He’d let the intriguing issues in his report distract him.
His mouth flattened as he acknowledged how determined he’d been to put her from his mind. Because thinking about her destroyed his concentration.
He’d let his response to her interfere with what had to be done. It was inexcusable.
Grimacing, Fotis moved to the connecting door and listened. Nothing. She had no light on but looking through the keyhole he saw something move. It took a heart-stopping second to realise it was a long, sheer curtain billowing at an open window, its movement caught by silvery moonlight.
She probably just liked fresh air. But the instinct that had kept him safe during his military career kicked in. He had to be sure. He turned the door handle, only to discover the door wouldn’t budge.
Seconds later he was out of his room and in the corridor. Hand on her doorknob he paused, listening, but heard nothing. Silently he turned the knob, relief singing in his blood as the door opened without obstruction.
There was no sign of disturbance and he could see a form on the bed.
Keeping away from the light spilling through the windows, he moved soft-footed and silent along the wall, senses alert as he approached the bed.
It was definitely her. He recognised the pale trousers and dark camisole. He also recognised the sumptuous waves of reddish-blond hair loose around her shoulders, the arch of those definite eyebrows and the natural downturn at the corners of a mouth that in repose hinted at sultry sensuality.
His heart beat a quick tattoo as his lungs emptied then refilled.
Good to know she wasn’t abducted on your watch, Mavridis.
The sarcastic voice sounded like his old special ops commander.
He dragged his attention from the way one breast looked about to slip free of her top. His hands flexed as he recalled her pebbled nipples hard against the silk as she gave him sass laced with contempt.
Not a woman he should hanker after.
Okay, she was here, but was she all right? Why was she still dressed? She lay so still that she was either an incredibly deep sleeper or…
Fotis leaned over the bed until a drift of cinnamon and vanilla scent, laced with warm female, assaulted his nostrils. He drew it in, barely noticing his surprise that she should smell so sweetly wholesome. Wholesome but addictive.
Frowning, he moved closer and finally had the confirmation he needed. The softest waft of breath caressed his chin. He looked down and at last discerned the gentle rise and fall of her breasts which a moment before had seemed so still.
Abruptly he straightened and stepped back. She seemed safe enough. But she hadn’t bothered to bathe or change, much less eat. What was her problem?
He hadn’t wasted much time on a detailed background check.
He’d already known more than enough about Princess Rosamund before her brother contacted him.
He knew her character and her predilection for scandalous assignations.
Was there also a drug habit? Was that why she hadn’t changed or eaten and why she seemed so deeply asleep?
A quick sweep of the bathroom revealed nothing.
But returning to her room he noticed something on her bedside table.
Scooping it up and turning away, he inspected it with a penlight torch.
Painkillers. Not heavy dose prescription medications but over-the-counter tablets in common use against headaches.
He switched off the torch and surveyed the sleeping woman, replaying their last encounter.
She’d looked pale, standing in the garage staring with wide eyes, and she’d blinked against the afternoon light coming into the kitchen.
Then there was the way she’d hunched her shoulders, like someone in pain, though she’d been quick to straighten.
The tiny lines puckering the centre of her forehead.
He’d thought that due to temper. Could it have been pain?
It must have been bad for her to fall, fully clothed, onto the bed.
Fotis prided himself on his ability to notice things others didn’t. To collect clues and transform them into a complete picture before other people had an inkling there was anything wrong. Hell, it was a core component of his business!
But he’d missed this. He’d let personal feelings hinder his ability to observe, collate facts and analyse.
No security system was inviolable. If there had been an intruder, Fotis might have been too late.
He put the tablets back and moved away so that light, sweet fragrance didn’t tease him anymore.
His chest rose on a deep inhalation. Ignoring her wasn’t good enough. He’d given his word to protect her. Despite his inclinations, he vowed that from now on he’d pay close attention to every move she made. He couldn’t afford to miss any threat.
What had been a deeply annoying job had suddenly become almost impossible. He’d do it because he had no choice. But some primal self-knowledge was already screaming a warning.
He despised everything she stood for. Particularly her overweening sense of entitlement and selfish belief that she should get whatever and whoever she wanted with no thought to anyone else. But it wasn’t just contempt he felt.
Brutal honesty forced him to admit to a thread, a powerful thread, of lust.
It had been there from the first and only strengthened each time she challenged him with those knowing grey-blue eyes and pert rejoinders. Her attitude as much as her body underpinned her sex appeal.
He’d thought, given his history, feeling such attraction would be impossible. Surely he had better taste.
Scowling, he stalked out of the room.