‘When did this happen?’ Valenti snapped into the phone.
When she gripped the sides of his desk, his eyes flicked to her and stayed. If he saw the frantic question in hers, he chose not to answer.
‘And he’s being brought back here? Are you sure?’ Several beats passed. ‘Good work,’ he said, then hung up.
Lotte’s heart lurched and she sagged against the hard wood. With relief, she insisted. Not dejection. Not fear that he was about to leave. ‘I… It’s over?’
For several seconds, Valenti’s gaze remained on the phone in his hand, then he looked up. ‘Sí. He’s been apprehended in Holland. Bert Keglar. Does that name mean anything to you?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Should it?’
A flash of relief washed over his face. ‘He’s being brought back here to face charges. It could happen as quickly as the next seventy-two hours.’
A pulse of silence passed, then because she’d been so bold minutes ago, and absolutely didn’t want the pathetic weakness to return, she grasped the bull by the horns. ‘So I’m free?’
Another dance of shadow and light over his face before he exhaled. ‘Not quite yet,litla.’
Again she told herself the heady sensation pounding within her was affront. Anger, even. Not giddiness. Not exultation at the idea that Valenti wasn’t in a hurry to wash his hands of her. Becausethatwould be truly pathetic.
So she folded her arms once more and glared at him. ‘What then?’
He cupped her nape, his thumb caressing back and forth on her jaw in a motion she suspected he didn’t even realise he was performing.
‘We will go on this magical tour of yours if you wish. Butyouheedmywarning. I’m not making the mistake of dropping my guard until he’s behind bars.’
Two things happened in quick succession once he summoned the helicopter.
His walls went back up the moment they stepped aboard. It was as sudden and as jarring as having a door slammed in her face. And she realised that Valenti intended to keep to his word about their sexual liaison ending once they left the cabin.
Which immediately birthed the second, stark realisation.
She missed the charged intimacy of the cabin. Would give anything to turn the aircraft around and return there.
And so she found herself in the same position as the outbound journey—consumed by her thoughts. Only this time they weren’t thoughts of how much she hated Valenti Domene and his imposition in her life.
It was how much of herself she’d given to him in that cabin. And the sinking feeling that she’d committed the grave blunder of giving her guardian her heart.
A heart he showed every sign of rejecting.
Lotte deeply despised how hard it was to imitate his detachment, then she hated him for making her crave that inhuman desire in the first place.
So yes, she was very much in her thoughts, sitting in the Royal Class Executive Lounge in Ljomi Airport as Valenti and his super elite guards pored over the half dozen destinations she’d chosen. Her request for more visits to her charities had been taken ‘under advisement’. And really, since she considered six a win, and she secretly planned to make the other trips by herself—something she looked forward to, she insisted to herself, as a means of passing what she suspected would be a trying time after Valenti reached his capacity and walked away from her—she let him get on with it.
Still, her senses jerked into wild life when she saw him striding towards her. Stopping before her, his keen eyes probed her for several seconds.
‘You still want to do this?’ he rasped.
She wished she could say no, end this right here and now. But even the tiniest idea of it contracted the vice around her heart. She nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’ She matched deed to words by rising and holding out her hand. ‘And I’d appreciate you returning my phone now too, thanks.’
The reluctance she sensed in him increased, a flash of unease darting across his face. After several beats, he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out her phone.
As her fingers closed around it, flickers of anxiety danced through her.
Helping people from afar was one thing. Being face-to-face with them, seeing their challenges was another. And as much as she wanted to deny it, she had little experience providing direct support.
What if—
‘Lotte? What’s wrong?’ he asked, his voice a rumble of moving gravel.
