Page 245 of The Rebel Billionaire

“How do I know you are who you say you are?”

“Brooke was sent to my mother, Sophia Bianchi, in New York.”

There’s silence for a moment, and I hear mumbling in the background.

“Alessandro?” A woman’s voice comes over the line. “I’m Kat, Harper’s sister.”

“Kat, congratulations on your wedding,” I say, my upbringing coming to the forefront.

“Thank you,” she says. “You want to speak to Harper?”

“Is she there?” I ask. I’m now beginning to see what Brooke meant when she said her siblings are protective. “I flew in yesterday.”

“You’re in the UK?” she says.

“Yes, I’m at my brother’s in London. I got on a plane as soon as I read her letter,” I admit. “I saw yesterday’s press conference.”

“She’s currently sleeping. It’s been a tough week.”

“I can only imagine. Please, when she wakes up, can you tell her I called?”

“I can go one better than that. Come here, you can see her for yourself.”

“What? You’re inviting him here?” I hear a male voice say in the background.

“Keep quiet. This isn’t about you. Harper is a grown woman.”

There’s more grumbling.

Kat’s voice comes back over the phone. “Don’t come to the main entrance. We’re under siege by the press, as I’m sure you can imagine. Drive to Lofton House. A new road connects the two properties. Follow it to the gates that lead to our estate. We’ll buzz you through.”

* * *

“Mr Bianchi?” Anton, Enzo’s driver, asks, spinning in his seat to face me.

We find Lofton House and follow the new road. We’re now in front of a set of large metal gates. I get out of the car and press the intercom.

“Hello, how may I assist you?”

“Alessandro Bianchi for Ms Harper Frazer,” I say, hoping and praying Brooke… fuck, Harper, has not decided I’m part of her life she’d rather forget.

“Follow the road around, and it will lead you to the main house,” the voice says. “Someone will come out to greet you.”

I can’t read much from the voice, so I get back into the car. I’m not being turned away, so that must be a good sign. It’s been two hours since we left London.

The gates open, and Anton follows the road through beautiful grounds. Harper must have been so homesick. New York, even where my mother lives, has nothing on this. He drives us to the base of large stone steps.

A woman my mother’s age appears at the front door.

Francesca Frazer, Harper’s mother, the woman who was sat next to her during yesterday’s press conference.

Enzo and I exit the car and make our way towards her.

“Alessandro,” she says, holding out her hand, which I accept. “I’m Francesca Frazer, Harper’s mother. Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you, Mrs Frazer,” I reply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my brother Enzo.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Frazer,” he says.