She answered with a tight smile and removed her laptop from the drawer a member of the cabin crew had put it in.
He got to his feet and stretched. ‘I’m going to have a shower. Make sure you eat, we’ll be landing in an hour.’
As he strolled past her he inhaled a fresh, delicate perfume and almost paused in his stride to inhale it again. Francesca smelled as good as she looked.
It didn’t matter how good she smelt or how sexy she was, he reminded himself as he stripped off his suit, this was work where liaisons of anything but the professional kind were strictly forbidden. He had the clause written in all his employees’ contracts for good reason. Their work was dangerous and needed a clear head. Any hint that the relationship between employee and client had crossed the line was grounds for instant dismissal.
Francesca could be Aphrodite herself and he would still keep his distance.
He switched the shower on and waited for the water to warm. And waited some more. Francesca had spent so long in it she’d used all the hot water.
He shook his head as he realised it had likely been deliberate.
‘How was your shower?’ she asked innocently when he returned to the cabin.
‘Cold.’
Her lips twitched but she didn’t look up from her laptop.
‘After eight years in the forces where bathing of any kind was rare, any shower’s a good one,’ he said drily. ‘But that’s irrelevant to the job in hand so tell me what the game plan is.’
‘You’re not going to tell me what it is now you’re in charge?’ She didn’t attempt to hide her bitterness.
‘It’s still your project. I’m in charge of your safety. If you’re prepared to accept my authority with that, I’m happy to follow your lead.’ He wanted this project to succeed as much as she did and knew the best way to stop her doing anything rash was to let her think she had some control. ‘You have a meeting with the Governor of San Pedro in four hours. What are you hoping to achieve?’
Looking slightly mollified, she said, ‘His agreement for the sale of the land that Pieta earmarked.’
‘That’s it?’
‘The Governor is married to the Caballeron President’s sister and given the job directly from the President himself. If he agrees there’s no one left to object and I can start organising everything properly.’
‘And if he refuses?’
She grimaced. ‘I don’t want to think about that.’
‘You don’t have a contingency plan?’
She closed the lid of her laptop. ‘I’ll think of something if it comes to it.’
‘Why didn’t Alberto come with you? He’s got plenty of experience with this.’ He watched her reaction closely. Alberto had been Pieta’s right-hand man for his foundation. The pair had always travelled together, Alberto doing much of the legwork to get things moving. He knew his way around countries hit by natural disasters better than anyone and how to schmooze the people running them.
‘He’s taken leave,’ she said with a shrug. ‘You should have seen him at the funeral, he could barely stand. He’s given me all the foundation’s files but he’s not capable of working right now.’
‘Yet here you are, Pieta’s sister, travelling to one of the most dangerous countries in the world only a day after you buried him, continuing his good work.’
Her jaw clenched and she closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. Then she nodded and met his gaze. The redness that had been such a feature of her eyes when she’d boarded the plane had gone, along with the puffiness surrounding them, but there was a bleakness in its place that was almost as hard to look at.
When she replied her voice was low but with an edge of steel. ‘This project—doing it in Pieta’s memory—is the only thing stopping me from falling apart.’
She had courage, he would give her that. He just hoped she had the strength to see the next five days through.
* * *
Francesca hardly had time to appreciate the beauty of Aguadilla before they stepped into the waiting Cessna. All she had time to note from the short car ride from Aguadilla International Airport to the significantly smaller airfield four miles away was the bluest sky she’d ever seen, the clearest sea and lots of greenery.
There were three men including the pilot waiting in the Cessna for them. Felipe shook hands with them all and threw their names at her while she nodded a greeting and tried to convince herself that the sick feeling in her belly wasn’t fear that in twenty minutes they’d be landing in Caballeros.
‘Are you okay?’ Felipe asked once they were strapped in.
She jerked a nod. ‘I’m good.’
‘Is this your first visit to Caballeros?’ the man who’d been introduced as James asked in a broad Australian accent.
She nodded again.
He grinned. ‘Then I suggest you make the most of the beautiful Aguadillan scenery because where we’re going is a dump.’
She gave a bark of laughter at the unexpected comment.
‘Do these men all work for you?’ she asked Felipe in an undertone when they were in the air.
‘Yes. I’ve three more men posted around the governor’s residence. All my employees are ex-special forces. James and Seb have both been posted here before. You couldn’t be in better hands.’
‘You managed all this in one night?’ That was seriously impressive.
His dark brown eyes found hers. The strangest swooping sensation formed in her belly.
‘While we’re in Caballeros you’re in my care and under my protection. I take that seriously.’
His words made her veins warm.
Francesca took a breath and turned away to stare out of the small window. When she put a hand to her neck she was further disconcerted to find her pulse beating strongly, and closed her eyes in an attempt to temper it.
During their last hour on Pieta’s jet when she’d been working on her laptop, she hadn’t been able to resist doing some research on Felipe’s company. She supposed she should have done it before, when Daniele and Matteo had insisted Felipe’s men be employed to protect her, but the thought hadn’t occurred to her then.
What she’d learned had astounded her.
Matteo had said Felipe had earned a fortune from his business but she hadn’t realised how vast his enterprise actually was. In one decade he’d built a company that spanned the globe, employing hundreds of ex-military personnel from dozens of nationalities. The company’s assets were as startling, with jets of all shapes and sizes ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice, and communications equipment reputed to be so effective the military from Europe to the US now purchased it for their own soldiers.
She could laugh to think of the macho meathead she’d imagined him to be. Felipe Lorenzi owned a business worth billions, and had the arrogance to prove it.
He’d struck up conversation with his colleagues who were seated in front of them. Their words went over her head. Her eyes drifted back to him.
He really was heavenly to look at. The more she looked, the more she wanted to look.
Coming from a wealthy family of her own, she’d met and mixed with plenty of wealthy, handsome men in her time, but none like him, none who carried strength and danger like a second skin.
As he gave a low rumble of laughter at some wisecrack of James’s—shocking in itself as she hadn’t thought he could laugh—she found herself admiring the size of his biceps beneath the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.
Her gaze drifted lower, to the muscular thighs. They had to be at least twice the size of her own...
As if he could sense her attention on him, Felipe turned to look at her and in that moment, in that look, all the breath left her lungs and her mouth ran dry. Fresh heat flushed through her.
It was like being trapped. She couldn’t tear her ey
es away from the dark gaze before he gave a sharp blink and turned his focus back to his colleagues.
Francesca let out a slow, ragged breath and pressed her hand to her wildly beating heart.
Never mind being ruggedly handsome, Felipe Lorenzi was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
What a shame he was also the most horrid.
* * *
Felipe had never thought he’d be pleased to land in Caballeros but as the Cessna touched down he sent a silent prayer of thanks.
He’d been busy chatting with James and Seb, the usual repartee, nothing important that couldn’t be said in front of an outsider, when he’d suddenly become intensely aware of the outsider. It had happened so quickly it had taken him unawares, a thickening in his loins, an electricity over his skin, a lazy wonder of how her lips would feel beneath his, of what she would taste like...
Then, just as quickly, he’d pushed the awareness away and focussed his mind as he’d spent almost two decades doing, dispelling anything that wasn’t central to the job at hand. An attraction to Francesca Pellegrini went straight into that category. Not central. Not even on the fringe. It couldn’t be.
It was no big deal. He’d dealt with unwanted attraction before without any problems. It really was a case of just focussing the mind on what was important and the only thing of importance was her safety.
But there had been something in the look she’d returned that made him think the attraction could be a two-way thing. He could handle it.
Francesca Pellegrini was off limits as a matter of course. Never mind his no-sex-with-the-clients stipulation with his employees—and if he were to enforce a rule then fair play meant he had to stick to those rules himself on the occasions he went out in the field—but she was grieving for her brother. He’d seen hardened men lose their minds with grief. He’d almost lost his mind with it once, the pain excruciating enough to know he never wanted to go through anything like it again. And he never would.
He’d spent his childhood effectively alone and where once he had yearned to escape the solitude, now he welcomed it. All his relationships, from the men he employed to the women he dated, were conducted at arm’s length.
‘Ready, boss?’ Seb asked, his hand on the door.
Like much of the island, Caballeros’ main airport had been badly damaged. Pellegrini money and Felipe’s own greasing of the wheels had ensured a safe strip for them to land on. Looking over Francesca’s shoulder to stare out of the window he could see for himself the extent of the damage. The terminal roof had been ripped off, windows shattered, piles of debris as far as the eye could see. Feet away from them lay a Boeing 737 on its side.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked Francesca quietly. She was staring frozenly out of the window, taking in the horror. ‘We can always rearrange the meeting.’
She lifted her shoulders and tilted her neck. ‘I’m not rearranging anything. Let’s go.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE DRIVER OF the waiting car, another of Felipe’s men, Francesca guessed, drove them carefully over roads thick with mud and so full of potholes she knew the damage had been pre-hurricane. Seb travelled with them, James staying in the Cessna with the pilot.
The Governor’s residence was to the north of the island, far from the city he ran, an area relatively unscathed by the hurricane. To reach it, though, meant travelling through San Pedro, the island’s capital, which along with the rest of the southern cities and towns had taken the brunt of the storm. She shivered to think this was the city she’d planned to stay in during her trip here.
They drove through towns that were only recognisable as such by the stacks of splintered wood and metal that had weeks before been the basis for people’s homes. Tarpaulin and holey blankets were raised for shelter to replace them. People crowded everywhere, old and young, naked children, shoeless pregnant women, people with obvious injuries but only makeshift bandages covering their wounds. Most stared at the passing car with dazed eyes; some had the energy to try to approach it, a few threw things at them.
At the first bottle to hit their car, Francesca ducked into her seat.
‘Don’t worry,’ Felipe said. ‘It’s bulletproof glass. Nothing can damage it.’
‘Where’s all the aid?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘All the aid agencies that are supposed to be here?’
‘They’re concentrated to the south of the island. We just landed in the main airport and you saw the state of that. The other one is worse. They’re having to bring the aid in by ship. The neighbouring islands have done their best to help but they’re limited with what they can do as the hurricane struck so many of them too and the government isn’t helping as it should. That airport should be cleared. There’s much it should be doing but nothing’s happening. It’s a joke.’
By the time they arrived at the Governor’s compound Francesca was more determined than ever to get the hospital built, not just for her brother’s memory but for the poor people suffering from both the hurricane and its government’s incompetence in clearing up after it. She felt she could burst with determination.
The Governor’s residence was a sprawling white Spanish-style villa that made her hate him before she’d even laid eyes on him. There were armed guards everywhere protecting it, men who should be out on the streets clearing up the devastation.
As if reading her dark thoughts, Felipe stared at her until he had her attention.
His eyes were hard. ‘Keep your personal feelings for the Governor to yourself. You must show him respect or he will kick you out and never admit you again.’
‘How do I show respect to a man I already loathe?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re the one who wants to play the politician’s role. Fake it. You’ve read Alberto’s reports on Pieta’s old projects. Think what your brother would do and do that. You’re playing with the big boys now, Francesca. Or do I take you home?’
‘No,’ she rejected out of hand. ‘I can do this.’
‘You can fake respect?’
‘I will do whatever is needed.’
Breathing deeply, Francesca got out of the car and walked up the long marble steps to the front door with Felipe at her side, leaving Seb and the driver in the car.
‘Is there something wrong with your leg?’ she asked, noticing a slight limp.
‘Nothing serious,’ he dismissed, his attention on their surroundings. She had a feeling nothing escaped his scrutiny.
After being frisked and scanned with metal detectors, they were led into a large white reception room filled with huge vases of white flowers and lined with marble statues, and told to wait.
The sofa in the reception room was so pristinely white that Francesca wiped the back of her skirt before sitting.
When they were alone, she said in an undertone, ‘If this is the Governor’s home I dread to think how pretentious the President’s is.’
‘Be careful.’ Felipe leaned close to speak into her ear. ‘There are cameras everywhere recording everything we do and say.’
She didn’t know what unnerved her the most: knowing they were being spied on or Felipe’s breath warm against her ear. She caught his scent, which was as warm as his breath, an expensive spicy smell that filled her mouth with moisture and had her sitting rigidly beside him to stop herself leaning into him so she could sniff him properly.
Clasping her hands together, she focussed on a painting of a gleaming yacht on the wall opposite.
She could not let her body’s reactions to Felipe distract her from the job in hand. She’d spent her adult life rebuffing male advances. She’d turned down plenty of good-looking undergraduates at university, always with an appeasing smile and zero regret.
She hadn’t wanted the distraction of a romance—not that romance itself played much of a part in a student’s life—when she was determined to
graduate with top honours. Sex and romance could wait until she was established in her career.
She sneaked a glance at the hands resting on the muscular lap beside hers. Like the rest of him they were big, the fingers long and calloused, the nails functionally short, nothing like the manicured digits the men at Pieta’s law firm sported. Felipe was all man. You only had to look at him to know a woman’s body was imprinted like a map in his memories.
A tall, lithe woman impeccably dressed in a white designer suit entered the room. The Governor was ready for them.
Pulling herself together, Francesca got to her feet, smoothed her jacket with hands that had suddenly gone clammy and picked up her laptop bag.
Her heart beat frantically, excitement and nerves fighting in her belly.
She could do this. She would do this. She would get the Governor’s agreement for the sale of the land. She would make Pieta proud and, in doing so, obtain his forgiveness.
* * *
Felipe felt undressed without his gun, which he’d left in the car with Seb. He didn’t expect any trouble in the Governor’s own home but could see the bulges in the suits of the guards who lined the walls of the ostentatious dining room they were taken to.
The Governor himself sat at the dining table alone, eating an orange that had been cut into segments for him. The tall woman who’d brought them in arranged herself a foot behind him.
He didn’t rise for his guests but gestured for them to sit.
Felipe hadn’t expected to like the man but neither had he expected the instant dislike that flashed through him.
‘My condolences about your brother,’ the Governor said in Spanish, addressing Francesca’s breasts. ‘I hear he was a great man.’
From the panicked look Francesca shot at him, Felipe guessed she didn’t speak his native tongue. Without missing a beat, he made the translation.
Protecting His Defiant Innocent Page 3
