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I stare at the hat, then him, consternation zipping through me.
‘You came to get me?’
Great. I’ll just parrot everything he says. That won’t make me seem like an idiot at all.
‘We’re a six-star hotel, remember? All service.’
‘I’m not... But...’
He lifts a finger to my lips and I’m instantly reminded of the way he kissed me at the palace. Possessively, with ease, as though he had every right. But he doesn’t. I’m not one of his one-night stands.
I jerk my face away then step backward. ‘Don’t.’
His eyes glint like onyx in his handsome face.
‘I have agents here.’
‘And what? You’re threatening to set them on me if I touch you?’ he drawls and, despite everything, I laugh, shaking my head.
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I know what you meant.’ He leans closer and lowers his voice. ‘You’re fine to kiss me in a room where it’s just the two of us, but not for anyone else to know you find someone like me attractive. Right?’
‘I didn’t have you pegged as the insecure type,’ I respond, his accuracy felling me.
‘Not insecure. Amused. I cannot imagine living my life with so much concern for what others thought of me.’
‘Obviously,’ I respond tautly.
‘Your bag?’
‘My agent has it.’
‘And does he also have the address of the hotel?’
I nod. ‘Of course.’
‘Good. Then he can follow behind.’
He puts an arm on my elbow, guiding me from the crowd. I stop walking, perfectly aware that if it looks like I’m being abducted my cover will be blown in about seventeen seconds. I turn around and sure enough see my guards running towards me, one with his hand reaching for his gun.
I shake my head quickly. When they’re close enough to hear, I say, ‘This is Mr del Almodovár, my...host. I’m going to travel with him.’
‘But Your Highness...’
Our earlier compromise about using my title is forgotten.
‘It’s fine,’ I assure Alex. ‘I trust him.’
They don’t like it, but this whole trip is unorthodox enough that they grudgingly nod.
‘We’ll drive behind you. Where are you parked?’
He gives them directions then begins to propel me from the airport once more, and this time I let him. His fingers press into the small of my back, his touch insistent and strong.
We’re crowded by others in the lift and he stands close to me, his body behind mine, his warmth enveloping me, his fragrance unmistakable. I breathe in, grateful for the anonymity of being able to close my eyes and cope with his nearness, for those few vital seconds to pull myself together before the doors ping open and his deep voice says, ‘Perdóname’, causing people to separate and make way for us.
I’m used to a degree of subservience wherever I go. People ‘obey’ me—I hate that term but I can’t think of any other way to describe it. But the responsiveness here is all down to Santiago. Whether he’s recognised as one of the country’s wealthiest men, or simply exudes that air of authority wherever he goes, I see the way his words are taken as a command. Even my security agents were quick to fall in with his suggestion.
