Page 26 of The Boss's Forbidden Assistant

‘This is us,’ Salvador said when the lift reached the eighth floor. He waited for Harper to step through the other guests, then followed. She looked up and down the hallway, picked the right direction then strode off, a step in front of him, determined to keep things business-like. In all likelihood, the room would be more than large enough to accommodate them both comfortably, as her rooms in Greece and Italy had been. This was a storm in a teacup. Far from ideal, but also not the end of the world.

She swiped the key card, pushed open the door and groaned.

The room was a decent enough size, she supposed, as befitted a hotel of this standard, but there was only one bed in the middle of the room—albeit a king. There wasn’t even a sofa she could crawl onto, just two arm chairs near a window that overlooked the ancient city, with the afternoon sun making the wide, curving river sparkle. Oh, well. She could sleep in a chair.

‘It will be fine,’ Salvador said through gritted teeth. ‘Absolutely fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower.’

A shower? She frowned. She supposed they’d been travelling for a few hours, but since when...? Unless he meant a cold shower? She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to get rid of the idea of Salvador in the hotel bathroom washing away his desire for her—as if he wanted herthatmuch. But...she did. She felt an overwhelming need for him despite their fight, despite everything. So what if he felt it too? And he was determined to fight it, even if that meant enduring icy showers?

She’d never know for sure, and it wasn’t her place to know. Harper had a mountain of work to catch up on so, rather than imagine Salvador lathering his body in the shower, hot or cold, she opened her laptop and began to read emails. She flicked various ones to Salvador or the appropriate staff member, until she got through at least twenty of the things, then went over the financial reports he’d sent across for Harper to check.

This was the kind of work she loved—meticulous, complicated and important. She lost herself in concentration, so didn’t hear the door to the bathroom opening until, a moment later, Salvador strolled across the room to the window dressed in only a low-slung towel, and the movement caught her eye. The sight of him arrested her gaze, making it impossible to look back at her screen.

‘Our suitcases aren’t here yet,’ he said simply, but there was nothing simple about it, and his voice showed his displeasure.

Her tongue tingled with an unwelcome inclination to lick the last remaining water droplets from his toned body. She scowled instead.

‘This hotel isn’t really up to the same standard as the others, is it?’

‘It’s got the most potential,’ he said with a lift of his shoulders that did nothing to help Harper’s overheated mind for two reasons. His muscled chest shifted, his shoulders, biceps—everything—gleaming from the shower, but it also put the towel in grave peril. She wasn’t sure how good he was with knots—he didn’t seem like Boy Scout material—so she wasn’t sure how securely he’d anchored the towel in place. She suspected a few more shrugs and it might drop.

Holy crap.

‘This is going to be fine,’ he muttered.

Harper closed the lid of her laptop with a snap. ‘I’ll go back down to Reception and see if there’s any news on a room. And then I’ll work from the foyer.’ She stood, conscious of how close they were in this room, breathing the same air, always within touching distance. Her eyes swept shut because this wasnotgoing to be fine.

Salvador was a trillionaire. Surely he couldpaysomeone to vacate their room?

‘We have a meeting at three.’

‘I’ll sort this out,’ she said with a small nod, but her voice was soft, lacking confidence, because the desk clerk had seemed pretty adamant first time round.

He didn’t argue. Harper collected her work bag and key card then slid from the room, breathing out when she reached the hallway. As the lift doors opened, the concierge arrived with their suitcases.

With a groan, she stepped into the lift and jabbed her finger against the button, waiting desperately to be whisked away to something more like normality.

At a quarter to three, Harper returned to the room, which she couldn’t think of as ‘theirs’, because that implied too much and it hurt to imagine it. Salvador was standing looking out of the window, so for a moment she had a view of his back, strong and confident, and his powerful body, before he turned, hands in pockets, and offered a tight smile.

She volleyed back something similar. Awkward silence fell.

‘I presume you weren’t able to find another room?’

‘No.’ Her lips pulled to the side. ‘Anything within a two-mile radius is booked up for the festival. I’m sorry,’ she felt obliged to say.

‘It was their error. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it.’

But frustration gnawed at her. ‘I find it hard to imagine this happening to Amanda,’ she said with a small shift of her shoulders, closing the door behind her reluctantly, because it boxed them into this tiny space. She stayed where she was, in the small entrance foyer, because it was as physically far from Salvador as she could get.

‘It’s beyond your control. Don’t worry about it. It’s one night. I’m sure we’ll survive.’

Was he?

She nodded unevenly, placing her laptop bag back on the bed. ‘We’re meeting on the roof terrace,’ she reminded him.

Salvador’s nod was thoughtful; Harper’s heart stammered. She had to find a way to get through this. ‘Excuse me.’ She bolted left, into the bathroom, slamming the door and flicking on the taps so she could wash her hands with ice-cold water and stop panicking. This was going to be a disaster.

Hold on to your anger, she thought.Remember everything that’s happened between the two of you. Remember Peter. Your dad. All the men who’ve let you down. Don’t let Salvador have that power over you!

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