Page 23 of In Bed with Her Billionaire Bodyguard

‘Clearly. What is shedoingthere?’

‘You could ask mereallynicely...’ Hope’s assistant drew out, ‘but even then, I wouldn’t tell you.’

‘And this is where she intends to stay?’ he asked, scanning and dismissing an image of the large central hotel, with so many access points it was nothing short of a security disaster waiting to happen.

‘It’s where she usually stays. Angelique has a chalet within the same village and they always go there and they always have so much fun and I’m alwayssojealous.’

The words poured from Hope’s assistant so quickly, he barely managed to get the gist of it.

‘And if we needed to change the location?’

‘I wouldn’t recommend it. Hope wouldn’t like it one bit.’

Luca stared at the screen, thinking that it would be the least of what she didn’t like about him at that point and reminded himself that it was probably not a bad thing either.

The next day Luca was already on the private jet when Hope entered the cabin of the small craft. Her glasses this time were almost completely opaque, leaving him clueless about her reaction to him.

Outwardly, she seemed not to spare him a glance as she took a seat at the furthest end of the cabin, on the opposite side, with her back to him. He smiled inwardly, having expected nothing less, before his conscience stirred. Yes, she was mad at him and she had good reason to be.

He had breached professional lines on the night of the opera. He might have told himself he had good reason, but it still had the same outcome. They were on rocky ground and he needed to get back to solid, professional. He couldn’t lose the future contract with Harcourts. It was what he had been working towards for the last ten years.

The air steward came to settle Hope into her seat, asking if she wanted anything to drink before take-off. She kept her voice low, making him strain to hear her, making him work for it. He respected it as much as it frustrated him.

Her phone vibrated with a call and as she held up the screen, he realised he could see it from this angle. Not that he needed to. The sound of the video call cut through the quiet of the cabin.

‘Darling! Tell me you’re on your way,’ came the cooing voice of a brunette with bright blue eyes.

‘Just waiting for take-off.’

‘Yes!’The word screamed into the phone and buzzed the speakers harshly.

The laugh Hope allowed herself hit him just as hard.

‘So, are you ready to get up to no good?’ the brunette demanded.

‘Absolutely.’

‘Good, because Simon arsehole Harcourt deserves to get sucker punched after all these years.’

Luca frowned, disliking how open the conversation was and very much disliking that he didn’t know who the brunette was.

‘That he does. I should be there in two hours.’

‘The champers is on ice, darling, and I can’t wait to see your gorgeous face!’

The switch in atmosphere in the plane the moment Hope disconnected the call was like whiplash, the soft humour severing into serious contemplation, and it reminded him of the time that his mother had been caught by a fan once when she’d been visiting.

At eleven, he was already painfully aware of the need to keep the identity of his mother a secret.

‘It’s to protect me, Luca. You’re doing such a good job protecting me.’

A young woman had nervously approached her idol, asking if she would sign an autograph for her.

‘Of course,’Anna had said, pushing Luca aside.

He knew the routine by then. He would walk on, just like any other fan who had been dismissed. Usually, he would find the nearest corner, or maybe even just head straight home. But this time he’d watched Anna, how she had lit up, the smile seeming so very genuine, happier even than when she’d been with him only moments before. And he’d felt resentment towards the woman who’d asked for the photograph, jealous that she was the recipient of all that focused joy Anna was capable of when she wanted to be.

Luca shook himself free of the thought. He wasn’t usually so preoccupied with thoughts of Anna. In fact, as time had gone on and the visits between them had become more awkward and few and far between, he’d begun to wonder what the point was.

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