Bound To A Billionaire: Protecting His Defiant Innocent (Bound to a Billionaire) / Claiming His One-Night Baby / Buying His Bride of Convenience

CHAPTER THREE

THE DRIVER OF the waiting car, another of Felipe’s men, Francesca guessed, drove them carefully over roads thick with mud and so full of potholes she knew the damage had been pre-hurricane. Seb travelled with them, James staying in the Cessna with the pilot.

The Governor’s residence was to the north of the island, far from the city he ran, an area relatively unscathed by the hurricane. To reach it, though, meant travelling through San Pedro, the island’s capital, which along with the rest of the southern cities and towns had taken the brunt of the storm. She shivered to think this was the city she’d planned to stay in during her trip here.

They drove through towns that were only recognisable as such by the stacks of splintered wood and metal that had weeks before been the basis for people’s homes. Tarpaulin and holey blankets were raised for shelter to replace them. People crowded everywhere, old and young, naked children, shoeless pregnant women, people with obvious injuries but only makeshift bandages covering their wounds. Most stared at the passing car with dazed eyes; some had the energy to try to approach it, a few threw things at them.

At the first bottle to hit their car, Francesca ducked into her seat.

‘Don’t worry,’ Felipe said. ‘It’s bulletproof glass. Nothing can damage it.’

‘Where’s all the aid?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘All the aid agencies that are supposed to be here?’

‘They’re concentrated to the south of the island. We just landed in the main airport and you saw the state of that. The other one is worse. They’re having to bring the aid in by ship. The neighbouring islands have done their best to help but they’re limited with what they can do as the hurricane struck so many of them too and the government isn’t helping as it should. That airport should be cleared. There’s much it should be doing but nothing’s happening. It’s a joke.’

By the time they arrived at the Governor’s compound Francesca was more determined than ever to get the hospital built, not just for her brother’s memory but for the poor people suffering from both the hurricane and its government’s incompetence in clearing up after it. She felt she could burst with determination.

The Governor’s residence was a sprawling white Spanish-style villa that made her hate him before she’d even laid eyes on him. There were armed guards everywhere protecting it, men who should be out on the streets clearing up the devastation.

As if reading her dark thoughts, Felipe stared at her until he had her attention.

His eyes were hard. ‘Keep your personal feelings for the Governor to yourself. You must show him respect or he will kick you out and never admit you again.’

‘How do I show respect to a man I already loathe?’

He shrugged. ‘You’re the one who wants to play the politician’s role. Fake it. You’ve read Alberto’s reports on Pieta’s old projects. Think what your brother would do and do that. You’re playing with the big boys now, Francesca. Or do I take you home?’

‘No,’ she rejected out of hand. ‘I can do this.’

‘You can fake respect?’

‘I will do whatever is needed.’

Breathing deeply, Francesca got out of the car and walked up the long marble steps to the front door with Felipe at her side, leaving Seb and the driver in the car.

‘Is there something wrong with your leg?’ she asked, noticing a slight limp.

‘Nothing serious,’ he dismissed, his attention on their surroundings. She had a feeling nothing escaped his scrutiny.

After being frisked and scanned with metal detectors, they were led into a large white reception room filled with huge vases of white flowers and lined with marble statues, and told to wait.

The sofa in the reception room was so pristinely white that Francesca wiped the back of her skirt before sitting.

When they were alone, she said in an undertone, ‘If this is the Governor’s home I dread to think how pretentious the President’s is.’

‘Be careful.’ Felipe leaned close to speak into her ear. ‘There are cameras everywhere recording everything we do and say.’

She didn’t know what unnerved her the most: knowing they were being spied on or Felipe’s breath warm against her ear. She caught his scent, which was as warm as his breath, an expensive spicy smell that filled her mouth with moisture and had her sitting rigidly beside him to stop herself leaning into him so she could sniff him properly.

Clasping her hands together, she focussed on a painting of a gleaming yacht on the wall opposite.

She could not let her body’s reactions to Felipe distract her from the job in hand. She’d spent her adult life rebuffing male advances. She’d turned down plenty of good-looking undergraduates at university, always with an appeasing smile and zero regret.

She hadn’t wanted the distraction of a romance—not that romance itself played much of a part in a student’s life—when she was determined to graduate with top honours. Sex and romance could wait until she was established in her career.

She sneaked a glance at the hands resting on the muscular lap beside hers. Like the rest of him they were big, the fingers long and calloused, the nails functionally short, nothing like the manicured digits the men at Pieta’s law firm sported. Felipe was all man. You only had to look at him to know a woman’s body was imprinted like a map in his memories.

A tall, lithe woman impeccably dressed in a white designer suit entered the room. The Governor was ready for them.

Pulling herself together, Francesca got to her feet, smoothed her jacket with hands that had suddenly gone clammy and picked up her laptop bag.

Her heart beat frantically, excitement and nerves fighting in her belly.

She could do this. She would do this. She would get the Governor’s agreement for the sale of the land. She would make Pieta proud and, in doing so, obtain his forgiveness.

* * *

Felipe felt undressed without his gun, which he’d left in the car with Seb. He didn’t expect any trouble in the Governor’s own home but could see the bulges in the suits of the guards who lined the walls of the ostentatious dining room they were taken to.

The Governor himself sat at the dining table alone, eating an orange that had been cut into segments for him. The tall woman who’d brought them in arranged herself a foot behind him.

He didn’t rise for his guests but gestured for them to sit.

Felipe hadn’t expected to like the man but neither had he expected the instant dislike that flashed through him.

‘My condolences about your brother,’ the Governor said in Spanish, addressing Francesca’s breasts. ‘I hear he was a great man.’

From the panicked look Francesca shot at him, Felipe guessed she didn’t speak his native tongue. Without missing a beat, he made the translation.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, smiling at the Governor as if having a lecherous sixty-year-old ogle her whilst speaking of her dead brother was perfectly acceptable. ‘Do you speak Italian or English?’

‘No,’ he replied in English, before switching back to Spanish to address Felipe. ‘You are her bodyguard?’

‘I’m here as Miss Pellegrini’s translator and advisor,’ he answered smoothly, avoiding giving a direct lie.

The Governor put a large segment of orange in his mouth. ‘I understand she wants to build a hospital in my city.’

Felipe smothered his distaste at being spoken to by someone chewing food. ‘She does, yes. I believe her brother had already been in contact with your office about the land it could be built on.’

He sensed Francesca’s agitation at being cut out of her own meeting. She had the air of a pet straining at its leash. He shot her a warning look. Calm down.

Another segment went into the wide mouth, the gaze fixing back on Francesca’s breasts as if he were trying to see through the respectable clothing she wore. From the gleam in his beady eyes he was mentally undressing her. From the angry colour staining her face she knew it too but the quick look she threw at him told him to say nothing.

‘Two hundred thousand dollars.’

‘Is that for the land?’

The mouth still full of orange smiled. ‘That is for me. The land itself is another two hundred thousand. All in cash.’

Felipe stared hard at Francesca as he made the translation, sending another warning to her with his eyes. He would have spoken his warnings but was damn sure the Governor spoke perfect English.

To his incredulity she agreed without a second’s thought or consideration.

‘Done.’

‘The hospital is to have my name.’

Here she hesitated. Felipe knew why—she wanted to name it after her brother.

The Governor saw the hesitation. ‘Either it has my name or permission is denied.’

Felipe translated again, adopting a harder edge to his voice in the vain hope she would pick up on it, slow down and negotiate properly.

But she was too keen to get the agreement made to see the danger she was walking into.

‘Tell the Governor we will be honoured to name it after him,’ she said in a tone so grateful Felipe braced himself for the Governor to pick up on it and demand even more from her.

A full mouth of pristine white teeth beamed. ‘Then it is a deal. I am having a party here next Saturday.’ That was a full week away. ‘Bring her to it. I’ll have the documents ready for you. Tell her to bring the cash.’ He snapped his fingers and the tall woman stepped forward. ‘Escort my guests back to their car. They’re leaving.’

As they stood, Francesca, full of smiles, said, ‘Please give my thanks to the Governor for his co-operation.’

She virtually skipped with joy out of the villa.

Only when they were safely in the back of the car and out of the compound did Felipe turn on her.

‘What are you playing at?’ he demanded. ‘Where was the negotiation? And what were you thinking agreeing to pay a bribe?’

The smile on her face fell. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘You’ve agreed to pay a cash bribe. You’ve agreed to bring in four hundred thousand dollars into the Caribbean’s poorest country. Can’t you see what’s wrong with that? Can’t you see the danger?’

‘I’ve done what needed to be done,’ she said defiantly. ‘Thank you for making the translations, but you’re being paid to protect me and advise on my security. If I want your input with anything else, I’ll let you know.’

This was exactly what Daniele and Matteo had warned him about. Francesca was so determined to get the hospital built in Pieta’s memory that she was a danger to herself.

Francesca didn’t understand why Felipe was being so negative. The meeting had gone a hundred times better than she’d expected. She’d expected to be drilled for hours about the hospital itself, its capabilities and the number of people they hoped to be able to treat. She’d made sure to have all the relevant figures and documents ready for him but in the end it had boiled down to one simple thing: money. And Pieta’s philanthropic foundation had plenty of it.

Felipe was taking his job as protector too far.

‘What about your career?’ he ground out. ‘Did you think about that? Do you want it ruined before it’s even started?’

Excited that they were heading straight to the site the hospital would be built on, his words took a moment to sink in. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘If word gets out that you paid a bribe to the Governor of San Pedro your career will be over. Lawyers are supposed to be on the side of the law.’

Dear God, that hadn’t even occurred to her.

She swayed in her seat as hot dizziness poured into her head. For one dreadful moment she really thought she was going to faint.

In her eagerness to get the site signed over to the foundation, it hadn’t crossed her mind that she could be jeopardising her career by paying the Governor’s bribe.

‘Pieta paid bribes,’ she said, more to herself and for her own mitigation.

‘No, your brother was always smart enough not to pay them and not as openly as you’re doing and not verbally with secret cameras recording every word said. He would never have put himself or his foundation in such jeopardy. He acted with discretion and had other people pay any bribe through intermediaries. You should know that.’

‘I would if anyone had ever told me. It wasn’t in any of the files.’ But it wouldn’t have been, she realised, her blood running colder still. Alberto had told her to prepare to ‘grease the wheels’ with the Governor but Alberto had been half crazed with grief and there had been nothing written down and for good reason; who would be stupid enough to leave a paper trail advertising law-breaking, even if for good reasons and intentions? ‘Why didn’t you tell me seeing as you know so much?’

She’d been so proud and relieved to have got the Governor’s agreement that she’d been oblivious to anything else.

‘I assumed you did know. I could hardly tell you in the middle of the meeting—’

‘We’re being followed.’ It was Seb’s voice that cut through their angry exchange.

Felipe turned to look out of the back window.

‘Black Mondeo.’

‘I see it.’

Felipe’s left hand gripped Francesca’s shoulder, preventing her from turning to look too.

‘Keep down,’ he said tautly.

‘But...’

A silver gun appeared in his right hand.

‘What do you need that for?’ she virtually screeched.

‘Someone’s following us.’

‘How do you know that?’ she asked, her eyes on his gun. ‘They might just be travelling the same route as us.’

His eyes were hard. ‘It’s my job to know and if I don’t know then I don’t take risks. Now hold on.’

The hand that had been holding her shoulder moved so his arm covered her chest like an additional seat belt. A second later she learned why when Seb put his foot down.

She only just held back a scream when she found them suddenly hurtling along the bumpy roads. Caballeros passed by in a blur, the roads narrowing and deteriorating the further south they travelled.

When they missed hitting an oncoming truck by inches, she squeezed her eyes shut and clung to Felipe’s arm and didn’t let go until with a squeal of brakes the car came to a stop.

‘You can look now, we’re at the airport,’ Felipe said, his voice tight. ‘We’ve lost them.’

She let go and was pleased to see him wince as he shook the arm she’d been holding with the grip of a boa constrictor. The gun was still nestled comfortably in his right hand.

‘On what planet is travelling at a hundred miles an hour over potholed narrow roads keeping me safe?’ she demanded, all the contained fear spewing out in one swoop. ‘We could have been killed!’

Her door opened and James stood there, a big grin on his face. ‘That looked like some ride.’

‘Your colleague’s a maniac.’

‘Who? Seb? Don’t worry about him, he’s done an advanced motoring course.’

‘Shut up, James,’ Felipe bit out, then to Francesca said, ‘I’m sorry if we scared you but I did warn you of the dangers.’

‘You warned me of kidnap and robbery. You said nothing about a car ride turning into the rollercoaster ride from hell. You said nothing about being armed.’

‘Would you have preferred we let them catch us? Should I have asked them nicely why they were following us and what they wanted? Should I arm myself with a feather duster to protect you?’

‘Well...no...’

‘Then let’s get in the plane before they find us and tell us in person what they want.’

‘We’re supposed to be going to the hospital site.’

‘That can wait.’

‘But...’

The look on his face stopped her arguing further. It was a look that spoke plainly. If she didn’t get out of the car and onto the plane right now he would carry her to it.

The adrenaline racing through her peaked to imagine what it would be like carried in his arms...

Humiliating, that’s what it would be, carted off like a recalcitrant child.

Jutting her chin in the air, she twisted round and got out, snubbing James’s offered hand.

‘I don’t know why you’re ignoring me, I wasn’t in the car,’ he complained.

She couldn’t help but smile weakly at his boyish charm even though he too had a gun in his hand. ‘Shut up, James.’

‘Yes, shut up, James,’ Felipe muttered as he followed her, scrutinising their surroundings, his hand on her back, ready to throw himself on her should anything happen.

His heart still pounded from the adrenaline surge of the race back to the airport and he was as angry about that as he was about Francesca’s idiocy. Adrenaline was part of the job—for most of them it was the job—but not like that.

Only when they were airborne did he put the gun back in his inside jacket pocket.

He’d seen Francesca’s fear when he’d produced it.

Good.

Fear could be a useful tool provided one knew how to control it. She had controlled her fear well enough, he admitted grudgingly, but she had to learn her safety wasn’t a game. There would be no compromises in that regard.

He closed his eyes and breathed welcome oxygen into his lungs.

He hadn’t experience a charge like that since the hostage situation a decade ago that had ended in such destruction and his own medical discharge from the forces.

* * *

When they landed back in the safety of Aguadilla, Francesca found she could breathe again. Caballeros had frightened her more than she wanted to admit. The guns Felipe and his men carried frightened her too; a physical reminder of the danger Daniele and Matteo had been so keen to ram into her but which she had naively thought they were exaggerating.

Felipe took the wheel, taking them through rural byways where coconut sellers lined the road and men sat at tables playing board games. One minute they were driving through what looked like jungle, the next in the open air with the Caribbean Sea gleaming before them, then back into the jungle. Twenty minutes after they left the airport, they pulled up outside a pretty single-storey lodge.

‘This looks nice,’ she said, attempting a conciliatory tone at the rigid figure driving the car who hadn’t exchanged a word with anyone since they’d left the airport.

Now that her adrenaline had settled she could appreciate that a combination of her fear and the awful realisation that she’d screwed up had made her come across as a spoilt brat. Felipe and Seb had done nothing more in the car than they were being paid for—keeping her safe. And Felipe had tried to warn her in the meeting, she remembered. But they’d been non-verbal warnings she’d ignored in her determination to seal the deal.

She would have to apologise.

‘This is where we’re slumming it,’ James said, his eyes twinkling.

‘Hardly slumming it,’ she protested. ‘It’s charming.’

‘Nah, not you. Seb and I have to slum it while you and grumpy here get to live it up in a seven-star paradise up the road. Don’t party too hard.’

Both men slammed the doors behind them, leaving her in the back alone with Felipe up front.

He switched the engine back on.

‘Hold on, I’ll come and sit up front with you,’ she said, but found the door wouldn’t open. ‘Have you turned the child lock on?’

He turned the car round, saying, ‘Put your seat belt back on, we’ll be there in a few minutes.’

She slumped back and folded her arms, her warmed feelings towards him disappearing in an instant at his arrogant highhandedness.

‘“Put your seat belt back on,”’ she mimicked under her breath. ‘“Don’t do this, don’t do that, just do exactly as I say.”’

He could forget an apology.

Not even the long private driveway dotted with security guards that opened up to reveal their perfectly named Eden Hotel could lift her mood, or the thought of calling Daniele with the good news. When the contracts were signed a week from now he’d fly over and check the site and get the architectural plans, which he’d promised to get started on, finalised.

But she would have to tell him too about her foolishness. He would be rightly furious with her. She was furious with herself.

She followed Felipe out of the car and into the sweet air, and hurried to follow him into the hotel.

And what a hotel it was. Francesca had stayed in many luxury resorts with her family while growing up but nowhere that could compare to this. The Eden Hotel was like a tall, sprawling villa set back from its own private sandy cove, its pristine white fascia covered in all manner of colourful climbing flowers and vines.

It oozed money, a feeling compounded when she stepped into a giant oval atrium with a waterfall as a centrepiece that managed to be both bustling with life yet utterly serene, evoking the sense of calm she so desperately needed. It made the Governor’s residence seem like a trifling town hall.

Felipe strolled to the horseshoe-shaped reception desk and used the time spent checking in getting a handle on the turbulence still coursing through him. All he wanted was to get into the privacy of his suite before he said or did something he regretted.

Once they’d been given their respective keys he said, without looking at the woman who’d caused all the turbulence, ‘Your luggage has been taken to your suite. I’ll meet you in here after breakfast on Monday...’

‘Monday?’

‘None of the officials you want to see will be available tomorrow. Not on a Sunday.’

‘But Caballeros is in a state of emergency!’

‘Have you made any appointments?’

‘Not yet,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘I didn’t want to get ahead of myself before I got the Governor’s agreement. I’m planning to call everyone on my list when I get to my room.’

‘They won’t see you tomorrow. For all its faults Caballeros is a religious country and Sunday is considered a day of rest so we will meet on Monday.’

‘If I can get appointments made for tomorrow then we go back tomorrow.’

‘We go back on Monday.’ He stared hard at her angry face. ‘You can use tomorrow to do some proper research on what you’re dealing with and be fully prepared.’

‘Meaning?’

‘The contract I signed was to provide you with protection for five days only. The Governor wants his bribe next Saturday, a week from now. If you want my agreement to stay the extra days then you need to stop acting like a brat, meaning you need to slow down and get your head straight before you make any more slip-ups. The deeds to the site aren’t yours yet and the way I’m feeling right now I could call your brother and tell him his fears have come true and that you’re a danger to yourself and should go home. Buenas noches.’

As he strode away, leaving her open-mouthed behind him, knowing perfectly well that only the threat of him calling her brother was stopping her from shouting at him and calling him all the names under the sun, he thought a day of rest would do him good too.

One day in Francesca Pellegrini’s company and he was ready to punch walls.