Page 83 of The Rebel Billionaire

I open my mouth to speak, but he pulls me inside, looking up and down the corridor before shutting the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says, his British accent surprising me.

“I need to speak to you,” I say, clutching the cup in my hand.

His eyes drop, and he smirks. “Please tell me you weren’t going to ask for a cup of sugar?”

I shrug. “I wasn’t really thinking, but coming empty-handed didn’t really cross my mind.”

“What’s so important that you had to break protocol?”

“I’m flying to Italy next week with work.”

He opens, then closes his mouth, a frown creasing his forehead.

“And you can’t get out of it?”

I sigh. “Not without raising some serious questions.”

“Shit,” he says, running a hand over his mouth, before shooting me a look of apology.

Another guy chooses that moment to emerge from what I assume is the bedroom.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” His accent is American.

“Nice to meet you too,” I say, both men ignoring me.

“We have a problem. Her job is taking her to Italy.”

The other guy runs a hand through his hair. It’s then that I recognise him. He’s one of the porters at St Clair. He delivers the post.

“Don’t say it,” he warns, and I close my mouth, holding up a hand.

The British guy moves to a phone and picks it up.

He waits for someone to answer and fires off a string of numbers and letters.

“Our asset needs to fly to Italy next week with work … yes, she knocked on the door … what was I supposed to do? … Yes, she’s seen Mitch …”

He pauses, obviously listening to the reply.

“Fine. I’ll get the details and send them across.”

He ends the call and turns to face me.

“Give me the details. There’ll be a team waiting to cover you on the other end.”

Some of the tension I’ve been holding onto drains from my shoulders.

“Do you have a pen?”

He hands me his phone and opens a specific app.

“Type it in there. Paper is dangerous.”

I nod and enter all the details of the trip, I’ve spent the day organising including flights, hotels, factories and restaurants.

When I hand it back to him, he glances down. “I’ll send this across. Now give me the cup.”