She shook herself free of negative thoughts.
If Valenti Domene had made a huge success of a career he hadn’t chosen for himself, surely she could take the first step in striking a meaningful path in her life?
And yes, it was ironic to be taking comfort and strength from the very man she suspected would devastate her with his complete rejection in the very near future. But until that happened…
She raised her chin. ‘Nothing. Where are we headed first?’
By the time they landed in the tiny, jewelled haven of Turks and Caicos ten hours later, her mood and nerves were frazzled.
They were whisked away in a fleet of armoured SUVs to a breathtaking villa at the tail end of Grace Bay bordered by powdery white sand and sparkling turquoise waters. A property that Valenti’s twenty-strong security team immediately began patrolling.
‘This is a bit much, isn’t it?’ she snapped, raising her hand to massage the throbbing ache at her temple.
It’d started a short hour into their flight when Valenti barely touched the meal they were served, seemingly interested in staring sombrely and contemplatively at her, as if willing her to take a certain course of action, like perhaps blurting that she’d changed her mind. That she would prefer to return to Reykland.
Answering that look with a taunting one of her own for near on an hour had birthed the headache. Valenti stalking away to the conference room with his team had only worsened her headache and nerves.
She summoned a smile for the housekeeper whose name she’d shamefully not retained due to her preoccupation with followingValenti’s imposing figure as he promptly, and without further words, made himself scarce.
Lotte didn’t see him for the rest of the day, although she very much felt his oversight in the long hours that followed via a staff member dancing in attendance at the beach with sunscreen and a message from Valenti not to get herself sunburnt. In the lavish feast of her favourite meals at dinnertime even though he’d made his excuses, leaving her to dine alone.
And in the dressing room full of clothes suitable for the tropics she discovered he’d had Ada pack for her.
Of course, the place where she felt his haunting absence most was in her vast bed in one of the most dreamy and luxurious bedrooms she’d seen in real life. Lotte almost resented the beatific sounds and scents of the night outside her open window, taunting her with myriad scenarios of how this night could’ve been magical.
If only—
No. She would absolutely not do it to herself.
Instead, she rose just past dawn when she accepted sleep was impossible, and sitting cross-legged against the sea of pillows, opened her laptop and went to work.
She was showered, dressed in a House of Domene jumpsuit that made her feel like a million dollars, and biting her inner cheek with nerves when the head of the charity was allowed through the gates of the villa.
Beside her, a silently brooding Valenti—who’d unsurprisingly made an appearance the moment his security alerted him of her visitor—fixed his gaze on the approaching taxi. She’d given up attempting to take shorter breaths so she wouldn’t greedily inhale the scent of his body she’d missed more than she knew was good for her. Nor could she stop her heart lurching wildly when he took an almost imperceptible step closer when the middle-aged woman alighted from the taxi.
The woman’s eyes widened a touch on seeing Valenti, then her gaze swung back to Lotte, her hand extending. ‘Miss Lillegard? I’m Abigail Pierre. I can’t tell you how pleasantly surprised I was to get your email yesterday. And how much I’ve been looking forward to meeting our anonymous benefactor.’ Her warm smile shaved off a few layers of Lotte’s nerves and she felt her own lips curving in greeting. ‘I had no idea you were this young.’
Lotte felt Valenti stiffen even harder. ‘We think it’s best Lotte’s personal details aren’t disseminated all over the internet. I trust you’ll keep whatever you learn to yourself, Mrs Pierre?’
The woman startled and Lotte glared at him, to zero effect. Hell, he didn’t even bother to spare her a glance, so busy was he drilling his will into the charity head.
‘O-of course,’ Abigail stuttered. ‘You can count on my discretion.’
With one darker glare at the man she found infuriating and captivating in equal measure, Lotte pivoted away from him, widening her smile as she gestured towards the living room. ‘I thought we could have coffee?’ She glanced sharply over her shoulder when she felt Valenti’s aura crowd her. ‘Einn, takk,’ she added to him.
His eyes narrowed, understanding her ‘alone, thanks’ wasn’t up for debate. ‘Lotte—’
‘I insist.’
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but after a long moment he nodded. ‘I will be out on the terrace.’Watching, he added silently.
She led Abigail into the living room where coffee, fruit and pastries had been laid out, taking the time to compose herself as she poured two cups.
The older woman smiled her thanks, then glanced at the French doors. ‘Your man is very protective of you. It’s lovely to see.’
Lotte’s heart squeezed so viciously she barely managed to suppress a gasp. ‘He’s not…’ She paused, the very act of confirming the wretched truth making her throat ache. ‘He has his reasons,’ she amended.
Abigail’s gaze rested pensively on her for several seconds before she shrewdly nodded, sipped her coffee, then opened the messenger bag she’d brought with her.
