CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE SAW JAVIER for fleeting periods over the weekend, the last being an abrupt greeting and goodbye at the door on Sunday night when he told her he had a meeting in Los Angeles the next morning and would be gone for two days.
Slotting the mild bereft ache in her chest under the firm heading of listlessness during his absence, she gathered the product information Darren had provided and parked herself in the window seat of the living room. A glance down to the street showed the crowd that had been thinning over the weekend had finally dispersed.
Breathing easier, she made plans to go for a walk after lunch, and opened the pack.
The full-page, colour headshot of Javier stopped her breath. He was staring straight into the camera, the cobalt blue of his open-necked shirt making his eyes reflect a lighter bronze shade than their normal mahogany. His captivating mouth was trapped in the beginnings of a smile that promised charm and sin, his stubbled jaw and strong throat completing a heart-stopping package that absorbed her attention for much longer than she deemed wise. It was only when she realised her lungs were burning from holding in her breath that she impatiently roused herself from her lust-drenched stupor.
He was just a man.
A complex, dynamic man who it turned out was just as prone to human vulnerabilities as the next person.
But it doesn’t make him less fascinating to you. Quite the opposite.
She flipped the page over, irritated with herself for her inability to stop thinking about Javier. The next page gave a brief history of J Santino Inc. Javier had started out as a corporate investor barely out of college. But his love for the finer things in life and a keen eye for design had seen him branch out into luxury-goods marketing by the time he was twenty-five. He’d added a late design degree and started the J Santino product range. Carla knew that the overnight success most people attributed to people like Javier was the product of hard, relentless work. But for a man like Javier, the burning desire to succeed had been born from the circumstances of his life. He’d wanted to rise above the label placed on him in his mother’s womb.
Her heart squeezed and she fought the urge to turn back the page and glance at his picture once more. Instead she moved on, familiarising herself with the fascinating history behind Javier’s latest launch.
He hadn’t been joking when he’d referred to her tequila excess that night three years ago. What he didn’t know was that she’d overheard him talking to Draco about his love for the liquor, and, feeling bold and rebellious, had decided to try it for herself. She’d been fascinated with the smoothness of the spirit and the heat that burned through her, just as she’d been fascinated with the man who’d instigated a similar heat inside her.
The rest had been history...
Or not.
She finished reading and checked her phone and email, her heart squeezing with dread and disappointment to see nothing from her father. This was rougher, uncharted territory for them, one she didn’t think would get easier seeing as her father obviously didn’t want to take the amicable route.
Restless and angsty, she tugged on her ankle boots. She didn’t exactly feel cooped up in the apartment, but, with Felipe the butler also off for the day, the continued silence was beginning to get to her. Plus she couldn’t walk past the sofa without reliving the heated moments she’d shared with Javier, and that was wrecking her concentration. Another glance down to the street showed it was still clear.
Going to her room, she pulled a cashmere jumper over her top and brushed out her hair before pulling a stylish cap over it. Locating her sunglasses, she slipped them on and grabbed her handbag. In the foyer, she smiled at Johnny, the concierge manager, then froze as her way was blocked by a giant of a man with a crew cut and a muscle-bound body straining in a three-piece suit.
‘Morning, Miss Nardozzi,’ the giant greeted her.
Her smile slipped a notch. ‘Morning. Umm, I’m sorry, do I know you?’
‘No. We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Antonio, your minder. Mr Santino asked me to ensure you aren’t disturbed if you decide to leave the building.’
Carla wasn’t sure which emotion surged higher— irritation at Javier’s blithe domination of her life, or the unwanted gladdening of her heart that he was looking out for her.
Or perhaps she was deluding herself entirely by assuming the latter scenario. Javier had left her with little doubt that he intended to keep pursuing reparations for the wrong done to him. He didn’t trust her. Antonio’s presence was a bracing reminder of that. Perhaps he expected her to run away while he was in LA.
Her smile melting off her face, she glanced at the bodyguard. ‘I’m going for a walk. I have no idea how long I’ll be.’
‘Not a problem. You won’t even know I’m there.’
Resisting the very unladylike urge to snort her disbelief, she exited into the sunshine, digging out her phone as she hit the sidewalk.
I don’t need a bodyguard, grazie. I’m perfectly capable of ensuring my own safety so you can call him off now.
The reply came within seconds.
Since you’ve met him, I’m assuming you’re no longer in the penthouse. He stays. And don’t think about sending him away. He answers to only me.
She gritted her teeth.
This is unacceptable.
Your safety is non-negotiable. He stays. And, Principessa...