Chapter Two #3
‘Hotels aren’t secure. And Gunnar lives in a one-bedroom apartment.’
She spun around, arms held out with unbridled sarcasm painted on her face. ‘Of course, and only the very best for Prince Valenti will do, jà?’
‘Yes,’ he answered simply, without inflexion. ‘I’d find actually wearing sackcloth and ashes a little overkill and highly uncomfortable.’
Her face fell and he wanted to kick his own ass. Not because he’d made her sad, but because he’d drawn their attention to the subject he’d sworn to stay clear of on this trip. The subject he’d found himself thinking about two minutes ago.
Helga Lillegard.
Her sister. Her dead sister.
His hand twitched at his side, the urge to plough his fingers through his hair in frustration biting chunks out of him. Control.
‘I have money coming out of my ears, Lotte.’ It was less of a boast and more of a fact he didn’t see the need to be bashful about. ‘You know this since you benefit immensely from it. Pretending otherwise is tedious. And at the very least I have a reputation to uphold.’
Why the hell was he explaining himself to her?
Why did he care about wiping that wretched sadness from her face?
He shouldn’t care one way or the other whether she was defiant and spirited instead of morose.
His only responsibility was to ensure her safety, then return to his preferred role of guarding her from afar.
‘Come, I’ll show you around.’
She folded her arms, mutiny lining her slender body. ‘Why? I won’t be here long enough to need to know my way around. Once your security people find me another place nearby, I can be out of your hair.’
Valenti curbed another biting remark, along with the humourless smile tugging at his mouth. She was in for a shock if she believed he would trust anyone but him to keep her safe until her stalker was apprehended.
‘Ada won’t arrive for another hour or two. I need to make a few calls. If you don’t want a tour, fine. The kitchen is through there when you’re ready.’
She frowned. ‘Why do I need the kitchen? I hope you’re not expecting me to make a meal like a dutiful little maid?’
Valenti sucked in a slow breath and prayed for strength. ‘The food is already here. I thought you might be hungry since you haven’t eaten since lunch.’
‘And you know this, how?’
This time he didn’t stop himself pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Do us both a favour and accept that when I make a statement it’s because I know what I’m talking about.’
Somehow the snarky laugh that barked out of her managed to tunnel straight into him, sparking more sensations he didn’t welcome. ‘That’s very high and mighty of you, Your Highness. Pray tell, is that omniscience something you can gift to others at Christmas or are you hoarding it all to yourself?’
He dropped his hand, sauntered back to where she stood and caught the wariness that slowly crept into her face, making her eyes sparkle even more. ‘Tell me if I’m wrong then. Are you hungry or not, Lotte?’ he pressed silkily, keeping his voice low and heavy.
Her nostrils fluttered delicately. Then her eyes fell from his, darting around the room. Her skittishness would’ve been endearing if he wasn’t busy noticing how full her lips were. How the faintest dimple twitched in her cheek when she pursed that mouth.
‘It could be…a wild guess…’
He wheeled away from her, despising the thoughts that wouldn’t shut off.
‘I don’t have time for this, Lotte.’ He prowled down one hallway, exhaling when he heard the click of her heels as she followed.
‘Guest room is through there. My office is there.’ He indicated with a wave of his hand. ‘Do not disturb me when I’m in there.’
She muttered under her breath at that, and he had that strong desire to smile again.
She hadn’t lost the sharp wit and snark she’d secretly amused him with as a teenager.
Valenti also admitted he missed it. Not enough to regret the chasm between them now, though.
Breaching that chasm would be dangerous. Emotionally unviable.
‘There’s a gym, sauna and a library through there,’ he continued, then entered the pristine kitchen. ‘The executive chef brought up an assortment of food so you should have more than enough to satisfy you.’
‘Are you sure? I could be a picky eater.’
His last nerve jumped, and he had the insane urge to sit her down and make her eat her words by hand-feeding her from the platter he knew very well contained all her favourite foods. ‘Well then I suppose you’ll have to make do with crackers and water until we get to our final destination.’
‘Which is?’
‘Not important for you to know.’ He pivoted, at once eager to escape and reluctant to leave. He forced himself to do the former. ‘And just so you know, the front door won’t open without a personal code. And no one can get up here without my express authority.’
‘Great. Is the treat-Lotte-like-a-prisoner session done yet? I’m getting worn-out here.’
He froze, glanced over his shoulder. The defiance was there, but in the arms she’d folded in outrage, he caught her defensiveness. Her lingering hurt. And frowned.
He was being overbearing. It was a fault Teo called him out on very often. It wasn’t a trait he could shut off easily. Something moved from his chest into his throat as his gaze travelled over her once more. As he accepted that part of his gruffness was a defence mechanism.
Lotte Lillegard had turned into a woman when he wasn’t looking. No. He exhaled harshly. Perhaps that wasn’t the entire truth. Maybe he’d refused to look. Refused to accept it.
But there was no denying it now.
Her slender form curved in all the right places, the hip she’d cocked in irritation demanding a second, third, fourth look.
Which he most certainly wasn’t going to do.
The previous hints of chubbiness in her face had long settled into beautiful angles of pert nose, strong delicate jaw and high cheekbones that made his fingers tingle once again.
And those legs.
Valenti halted his gaze from tracking them, then ruthlessly smashed the heat attempting to rise when she rocked from one foot to the other, changing her stance in a mesmeric slide of thighs.
No.
‘I haven’t treated you any differently to how I’d treat a client in the same situation,’ he half lied.
He wouldn’t have jumped onto a fighter jet to halve the time he reached an ordinary client.
His heart rate most certainly wouldn’t have been strained to hit Mach one for any other client, no matter how needful or exclusive.
It’s because she’s Helga’s sister.
True. But…that was another half lie.
Her impetuous visit to Cartana on her nineteenth birthday resurfaced.
An inconvenience at the very least because he’d had duties requiring attention, but he’d still created a short space in his schedule to entertain his late friend’s little sister.
Perhaps let her beat him in a game of chess she liked so much.
Until he’d seen her.
Valenti suspected the shock of registering that Lotte wasn’t a child anymore, that she’d blossomed into a stunning, sexy woman, had shattered his benevolent intentions. Had turned his plan on its head so he was ordering her out of his sight, berating her for giving her security the slip.
He shook his head briskly. Focused to find another flash of anguish crossing her face. He gritted his teeth.
‘Well, in that case, this client wants to be left in peace. If it’s not too much to ask?’
‘Lotte…’ He stopped when he caught her tiny flinch.
Enough. Very much unlike any client he’d dealt with, his every word and gesture seemed to make things worse.
And as he turned and walked away, Valenti also admitted a disconcerting truth.
Just like her womanly body triggered forbidden sensations, the sight of Lotte’s distress rubbed him in several wrong ways.