Page 26 of In Bed with Her Billionaire Bodyguard

‘No, Luca. I don’t want a cup of tea. I want to know why I’m here and not in the apartment I had arranged for in town,’ she said, throwing her coat onto the side of the sofa.

‘Because that apartment was not a secure location.’

Hope rolled her eyes, the lack of sleep as she’d worked her way through the last two days, the stress of the nomination before that—it had all worked to reduce the filter she usually kept between herself and the world.

‘I’m not POTUS. Or Whitney, or any other kind of person who needsactualprotection, Luca. Are there deeply awful and intrusive and eminently frustrating headlines about me? Yes. Do they hurt? A little bit.’ A lot, actually, but she had no intention of letting him know that. ‘But is my life at risk? No.’

He had patiently pulled out a cup, added a tea bag and poured the water over it throughout her little speech.

‘Are you done?’ he asked, without looking up.

‘Excuse me?’ she demanded, bristling at the inherent disrespect.

‘Are you done?’ he asked, turning around to face her, his hands braced behind him on the countertop and she’d have had to be blind not to see how devastatingly attractive he seemed at that moment. The black knit turtleneck jumper clung to his chest like a second skin, the matt black brushed metal of the buckle of his belt clasped tightly over his lean hips. Legs clad in dark denim, lovingly wrapping around thigh and calf muscles even the most dedicated gym fanatic would have been proud of. Lethal, deadly and downright sexy. But suddenly she became aware of the flare of his nostrils, the dragging inhalation of oxygen. He was mad. At her. Very mad.

‘I don’t care if you’re not the President of the United States. I don’t care that you’re not a multi-million-dollar music industry icon. I don’t care that the chunks taken out of you are done by words not weapons. That’s not my business or my concern. I have been paid to do a job, and I will do that job, whether you like it or not,’ Luca warned.

‘I was supposed to be in town. I was supposed to beseenin town.Thatwas the point of the distraction, Luca.’

And that just pushed him even closer to the edge. Wanting to be seen, playing with the press—she thought she was using them and couldn’t see the price she was having to pay.

He stalked towards her, closing the distance between them with barely two steps.

‘A job I cannot do,’ he said, as if she’d not spoken, ‘ifsomeonein your office is leaking your every move to the press.’ His words weren’t shouted or yelled. They were quiet even, but hit their mark with surgical precision.

Luca saw confusion cloud that bitter chocolate gaze of hers.

‘What do you mean?’

‘How am I supposed to keep you safe if the press knows what you’re doing before I do? The leak didn’t come from my team, becausewe didn’t know,’ he stressed, as infuriated by the message he’d received from his analyst now as when he’d read the email. ‘How do they know you’re going to a club called Meister? What on earth are you playing at here, Hope?’ he demanded, a red haze beginning to press at the edges of his vision.

‘I am playing the hand I’ve been dealt, Luca,’ she threw back, matching her heat to his. ‘This is the life I have and I’m making it work.’ Fire blazed in the molten depths now that he’d lit the fuse and he could either stand by and watch or help her burn it all down and, God help him, he wanted it all to burn.

‘And what kind of life is that?’ he demanded, through the flames turning his vision red. ‘It’s vapid. It’s ridiculous,’ he dismissed with a slash of his hand. ‘It’s all for show without any deeper meaning. You’re being used for someone else’s momentary fascination and you’re allowing it. It’s pathetic and beneath you and you should know better.’

‘You don’t know anything about me, Luca,’ she hurled back.

And he wanted to tell her. Tell her what he knew about her. Not just what had been in her file, not just the facts that he’d gathered, but the smaller things he’d noticed. The kindnesses that cost nothing but meant everything. The concern for her staff, for the future of her employees, for her customers. But he’d also seen the loneliness. The hurt she hid from everyone—even her brother. The way that she stood beneath the gaze of those who underestimated her constantly, but still she bore it. One day he wanted to see her rise above it, because he knew she could.

‘You cannot keep me on the outside looking in,’ he insisted. ‘If I am constantly having to play catch-up, someone will get hurt.’

It hadn’t happened yet, not on his watch, and not for any of his clients, but he couldn’t take that risk, couldn’t let his guard down. Not once. Not ever.

‘You’re doing such a good job protecting me.’

He turned his back on Hope, feeling a little too exposed, too raw. Because he’d seen it. He’d seen the moment that she’d realised he wasn’t just speaking about her, about Harcourts.

‘You’ll tell me what you’re planning?’ he said, uncaring that it was more of a command than a request.

‘Yes,’ she said, looking at him with questions he’d put in her eyes.

He nodded and left the room.

Luca felt the loud bassline pumping out of Meister’s speaker system bone-deep. It hummed beneath his skin, strangely subtle rather than jarring. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d spent the afternoon exploring the layout, and had even done a quick walk-through before they’d opened—not that Hope would know about that.

He’d thought he’d have calmed down by now, but no. She was there, like that bassline, simmering beneath in his veins. But she was a client. Ignoring that—technically, Nate was the client—Hope was still under his protection. A client that the future success of his company rested on. A contract with Harcourts would be the first step to a global operation.

He looked around the bar area, easily spotting the press photographers who thought they were being discreet, with their camera phones pointed straight at the VIP area blocked off by two imposing security figures—one male and one female.

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