Swallowing the nerves building in her at his rabid scrutiny, she nodded.
Another beat passed before he strode to the door, typed in the code and pulled the door open.
Ada and two bodyguards entered carrying several large shopping bags. She followed Ada as she deposited them in the guest room, summoning a smile when the housekeeper turned to examine her.
‘Are you okay,elskan?’
The woman who’d been more like a mother to her since her own mother passed raised her plump hands to cup Lotte’s cheeks. She had to swallow the surge of reactionary tears. ‘I’m fine, Ada. Thank you for doing this.’ She indicated the bags.
‘You know you don’t need to thank me for anything. It’s my pleasure.’
Lotte smiled. ‘Thank you, anyway,’ she said, summoning a tiny laugh that eased the concern in the housekeeper’s eyes.
She started to pull out garments, laying them out in neat piles on the bed. ‘I’m glad the Prince is here. He will sort everything out, you’ll see.’
Lotte pursed her lips to stop herself from saying anything she would regret. At best she would be letting on that Valenti affected her in ways that bewildered and angered her. At worst, she would be bad-mouthing the person Ada clearly idolised and who also signed her pay cheque.
Ada and Leif were dear to her. Despite being elderly and not having much in common with her, their presence had alleviated her profound loneliness.
Lotte couldn’t risk the livelihood of the two people who’d been the most stable in her life since Helga died, with Gunnar more absent than present.
‘I’ll leave you to get ready,’ Ada said when she was finished.
Swallowing the lump crowding her throat, she nodded, and Ada left. About to shut her bedroom door, she froze when Valenti appeared in the doorway.
‘You have half an hour. Pack a suitcase and dress for the cold.’
Before she could ask again where they were going, he spun on his heel and stalked away.
His words echoed in her head as she picked out a variety of gorgeous sweaters, leggings and slacks, cashmere scarves, gloves and woolly hats from the pile. She couldn’t quite throttle the pang of disappointment that pierced her when she guessed they wouldn’t be going to Cartana.
At this time of the year, the Mediterranean kingdom she’d only so briefly been allowed to visit would be bathed in sunshine and balmy temperatures, no thick sweaters and wool scarves needed.
She chose a cashmere sweater in her favourite caramel colour, paired it with dark chocolate leggings, thick socks and a pair of tan boots, then wrapped a snowy white scarf twice around her neck.
Placing a pair of leather gloves on the side, she folded six interchangeable outfits into the small suitcase and tossed in the toiletries Ada had thoughtfully added. She reached for the handle, then stopped. She needed a moment to collect herself, to remind herself that all she was doing was using Valenti as a means to an end to her freedom. She would divorce her feelings from any interaction with him for as long as it took. Tightening her gut, she wrestled her composure into place and left the room.
He was pacing the living room, his phone glued to his ear.
Contrary to every warning pep talk she’d given herself, her footstep faltered when she saw he’d changed too. His clothes were complementary to hers, except he looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a luxury magazine extolling the virtues of the great winter outdoors.
His turtleneck sweater was a rich, smoky grey paired with dark jeans and boots, and the dark grey coat he’d thrown over it only highlighted the silver in his eyes when he turned at her approach.
A few murmured words and he was hanging up, slotting his phone into his inner pocket before striding forward to take the case from her. Handing it off to one of his guards, he took her elbow.
She refused to admit she was tongue-tied at the jaw-dropping evidence of his rugged masculinity. Refused to admit the restless throbbing between her thighs, the puckering of her nipples and the wild tattoo of her heartbeat as she caught his scent.
She wasn’t a virgin. She knew what her body was telling her.
Perhaps she was caught in that inconvenient hormonal conundrum of denying her body’s needs for so long. Maybe when this was all over, she would go on a date, scratch an itch…
Distaste filled her mouth, and she shook her head to dislodge the thought. Most of her dates had ended in disappointment, which was why since that one encounter at university, she hadn’t bothered to seriously date anyone. It was a waste of time and her time was precious. So no, she would be denying whatever her body was screaming at her. Just like his fleeting passages through her life, this nonsense sensation too would pass.
Thankful for the emergence of common sense, she stepped into the lift next to him. Was even confident enough to reach for the ground floor button. Only to gasp when Valenti caught her hand.
‘We’re not going downstairs,’ he stated.
Eyes widening, she stared at him. Watched him punch the button for the roof. A handful of seconds later, the door slid open to reveal a sleek black helicopter crouched thirty feet away.
