Page 85 of The Forbidden Billionaire
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When I open my eyes again, a gap in the curtains shows it’s morning.
I’m lying on my right side. The window is on the wrong side of the room, and it doesn’t feel like my room in my parents’ house, either. It takes a few seconds for my brain to reboot, and then the memories of the previous day come flooding back.
The stalker. The overwhelming panic and fear. The flight to Evermore in the semi-darkness. Luke.
The bed beside me is empty. I sit up, but the bedroom door is closed. I’m lying on one half of the duvet, still in my jeans and hoodie, although someone—Luke presumably—has removed my trainers, then covered me up with the other half of the duvet.
Slowly, I get up, go over to the windows, and part the curtains. I inhale at the view of the sandy beach, and beyond it,the sparkling Pacific Ocean. In the distance, I can see the town of Russell, and far to my right, the flagpost outside the Waitangi Treaty House, high on the hill.
I turn back to the room. It’s large and pleasantly furnished, the chest of drawers and bedside tables made from what looks like kauri wood. The decor is the color of exotic flowers—cream walls with a dark-turquoise duvet cover, and hot-pink and blue throw pillows. My case stands by the door—Luke must have brought it in for me.
Feeling rumpled and dishevelled, I lift my case onto the bed, take out my washbag, and go into the en suite bathroom. I take a quick shower, using some of the complimentary products that smell of frangipane, and dress in yoga pants and a tee.
While I scoop my hair up into a bun, my brain weaves through my memories of the night before. It’s hard to make sense of it. I’ve had so little sleep over the past few weeks, and I must have been high on adrenaline too; it still feels like a dream.
I think you’re possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
His words make me catch my breath. Did he really say them, or did I conjure them up? I study my reflection, my pale skin and the dark circles under my eyes, and my spirits slowly sink. It doesn’t matter either way. He’s still my CPO, and he was being kind to a crying woman, that’s all. I’m foolish if I let myself believe anything else.
I finish my bun, take a deep breath, and head out.
I walk into the living room. He’s cleared away our half-eaten dinner from the night before. He’s not there, but then as I turn toward the large windows, I see him out on the deck, reading a book. He’s wearing swim shorts, and he’s bare-chested. Wow, look at those abs! His bare feet are propped up on a chair, crossed at the ankle. His legs are incredibly long, and his thighs look as if they could easily crush a girl between them.
Ho-lee fuck.
He looks up then and sees me, and surprise lights his features. Immediately, he puts down his book, gets up and opens the sliding doors, and comes inside.
“Good morning,” he says, walking over to me. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay, thank you.” My stomach flips at the sight of so much tanned skin. “Um… I’m sorry I slept so long.”
“It’s only eight,” he says. “It’s hardly late. Would you like a coffee?”
“I can make it,” I protest as he walks around the kitchen counter. “I know you call me princess, but I’m not actually royalty.”
He laughs and turns the machine on. “Maybe not, but I like doing things for you. You deserve it.” He glances at me and smiles, then opens the fridge to retrieve the milk.
I perch on the bar stool, unable to tear my eyes from him. I’ve seen him in a suit, and in civvies, but this is something else. It’s only as I look at his hair that I realize it’s damp.
“Have you been swimming?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah, I couldn’t resist.” He starts the espresso pouring, then steams the milk. “It was fucking cold, but it woke me up.” He chuckles. Then he glances at me and obviously sees me staring. “What?”
“You look… different.”
“I actually slept, for once. Okay, only for five hours, but that’s five hours more than I’ve been sleeping.” He replaces one mug with another and starts the espresso pouring again.
“You don’t normally sleep well?”
He shakes his head and pours the milk over the espresso in the mugs.
“Because of the nightmares?” I ask softly, remembering him telling me.
“Yeah.” He passes my mug to me, then says, “Hold on.” He takes his phone out of his shorts pocket and answers it. “Hello? Oh, hey.” He mouthsEllato me. He listens, then says, “Right. Okay. Yeah. Yes, I understand. No worries. Yeah, all good here. Frost took us straight to the villa last night. We’ll have a walk around today. The security’s good. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble here. Yeah, right by the sea. Hydrangea Villa. Okay, yeah, speak soon.” He ends the call.
“Hibiscus,” I say.
