Bound To A Billionaire. Michelle Smart

awareness of her. It was in his every move, as strong as her awareness of him. The only difference was his resolve to pretend it didn’t exist. His ridiculous rule of no relations with the client meant he was determined to fight it.

      He regarded her as his responsibility and was doing everything in his power to keep her in the box he’d cast her in.

      Well, she was determined to do everything in her power to pull herself out of that same box.

      ‘I’m hungry,’ she repeated.

      He didn’t look up from his laptop. ‘You’re always hungry. Order room service.’

      ‘I had room service last night. It’s only seven o’clock. If I spend another evening stuck in here, I’ll get cabin fever. I’m going to get something to eat—are you coming with me?’

      Now his eyes darted to hers and narrowed.

      ‘I’ve agreed to go home in the morning,’ she said sweetly, ‘and I understand why you feel I need your full protection tonight. But I’m not going to be a prisoner in this suite. If you don’t want to eat with me, call one of your men stationed around the hotel to join me instead.’ She knew he would never go for that. She also knew that trying to draw him into conversation while in her suite would be akin to drawing blood from a stone. Without a laptop to hide behind he would be forced to talk to her.

      Fury mounted in his returning glare but Francesca kept her gaze steady.

      Then his glare turned into a look that could solidify gel. ‘We eat, we come back. No drinking and no dancing. Is that understood?’

      ‘Why don’t you write it on a piece of paper so I don’t forget? I’ll sign it for you if you like.’

      ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he growled.

      ‘I’m doing my very best there.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’m going to take a shower and make myself look beautiful before we leave. Is that okay with you, my lord and master?’

      Certain he was cursing her in Spanish under his breath, Francesca sauntered to the bathroom.

      Felipe waited for the click of the bathroom door’s lock. When it didn’t come he swore again. She’d deliberately left it unlocked.

      He rubbed a knuckle to his forehead, trying not to think about what was going on behind the unlocked door.

      Making herself look beautiful? It wasn’t possible for Francesca to be more desirable than she already was.

      The sound of the shower running came through the walls.

      Do not think of her naked.

      An email pinged into his inbox and he seized on the distraction; a recce report by a team of his men in North Africa in preparation for a business trip by the head of an American petroleum company.

      He’d almost finished writing his reply when the bathroom door opened.

      He looked up before he could stop himself.

      Dios, Francesca had only a towel around herself.

      ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said demurely, brushing past him and leaving a cloud of fruity scent in her wake, ‘I’m just going to get changed.’

      Gritting his teeth to counteract his thickening blood, he looked again at the email he was replying to.

      She might as well have fired a bullet into his brain his concentration was so shot.

      He blinked to refocus but, even when she disappeared into her dressing room, all he could see were bare slender arms and long black hair that, when wet, fell all the way to the base of her spine, almost touching the curvaceous bottom the white towel hugged so beautifully.

      He knuckled his forehead and swore violently. She was taunting him. Tempting him. It was in her every look, her every movement.

      The vows he’d made to himself in recent days were tested to the limit when she emerged some time later.

      She’d changed into a Chinese-style red dress that was perfectly modest, not displaying any unnecessary flesh, falling to a decent length just above the knees, but...it clung to her every softly rounded curve...

      And then he noticed she’d put make-up on. Not a huge amount but enough to make her light brown eyes even more seductive than they already were and her lips even more kissable. She’d blow-dried her hair and it hung like a silk sheet. On her feet were high black strappy sandals.

      ‘Did you want to take a shower before we go?’ she asked, appraising him with one of the gleams that fired straight into his groin.

      He slammed the lid of his laptop down. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

      * * *

      Francesca swirled the white wine in her glass and watched Felipe study his menu.

      He’d looked at her only once since they’d sat down, a piercing glare when she’d ordered her wine. She’d given an unrepentant shrug in return.

      They were in one of the hotel’s outdoor restaurants on a patio area that encircled a large swimming pool aglow with soft lighting.

      Her intention had been to get Felipe out of the suite and get him talking. Whenever they’d had a proper conversation together they’d proved things could be harmonious between them. She wanted to find that harmony again.

      She knew he desired her but what good was that when he fought it every step of the way? She wanted him to desire her company as well, to see her as herself. Francesca. Not Pieta’s little sister. Not Daniele’s little sister. Not the foolish client who’d agreed to a bribe because she hadn’t been thinking straight and who needed saving from herself as well as the bad guys, whoever they were.

      She waited until their order had been taken before asking, ‘Where are you going when this job’s done with?’

      ‘Back to the Middle East.’

      ‘You’re not going home for a few days or anything?’

      ‘Why do you want to know?’

      ‘I’m making conversation. Annoying, I know, but one of us has to make the effort.’

      Felipe tore his gaze from the distance he’d fixed on to look at her.

      She tilted her head, her features softening. ‘Please, Felipe, can’t we just have a normal conversation like normal people?’

      He smothered a sigh. It was far easier for him to ignore the tightening of his loins that occurred just by being around her if he didn’t have to listen to the husky voice that stroked his skin like a caress and stare into the beguiling eyes that had the power to hypnotise him.

      Her request wasn’t unreasonable.

      He was the one being unreasonable.

      She couldn’t help it that every look made the yearning to touch her grow and his self-loathing ratchet up another notch.

      ‘Do you still live in Spain?’ she probed, taking his silence for assent.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Where do you live then?’

      ‘Nowhere.’

      ‘Nowhere?’

      ‘Nowhere,’ he confirmed. ‘I have no home. I am of no fixed abode.’

      ‘But...’ She smoothed a long strand of hair behind her ear. A teardrop diamond earring winked at him. ‘Where do you call home?’

      He shrugged. ‘Wherever I happen to be. I have a bedroom on my plane. Hotels are easy to come by. Everything I own is easily transported and as easily stored.’

      She rocked forward slowly, a crease in her forehead. ‘Where do your letters go? Bills? Bank statements? You have to have an address to have a bank account.’

      ‘Not all banks require it