and hurt but my conscience tugs at me. I am a liar, until I find the right moment to tell him who I am and the reason I’m here.
But he doesn’t know that. So why is he assuming I’m being dishonest?
If it was anyone else who’d said it, my instinct would be to argue, but it won’t help, so I take a moment to cool down. Grabbing my mobile from my bag, I check for a signal. The little tree icon and message welcoming me to Spain show I’m linked to the local network. I send Jess a quick text.
Hi, here safely :) Got off plane in one piece! Know you think I’m wrong to do this but I need to. Speak later. C x
Dropping my phone into my bag, I hope I’ll still have a best friend by the end of the weekend.
I wiggle from the car, aided by a red-uniformed concierge who rushes over to hold the door open for me. If I’d expected Alex to wait I’d be disappointed. He’s already gone into the hotel. Charming.
Studying the grand white frontage of the building, I thank the man, receiving a nod and smile in reply, before I click up the broad stone stairs and through the gold-gilded door into the lobby. Spotting my infuriating but dishy boss at the front desk, I stride across the vast, high-ceilinged, black-marbled room. The differences between the traditional façade and the modern interior of the hotel work surprisingly well together.
Hoping Alex will acknowledge me and perhaps apologise turns out to be pointless; he’s deep in laughing conversation with the pretty brunette receptionist who’s tapping quick fingers over a computer keyboard, their gazes tangling. Not that I’m bothered.
‘Here you are, sir,’ she says with a flirtatious smile and some exotically rolled r’s, ‘the Mediterranean. I have two key passes. There are two guests staying, si?’
My eyes widen. He’s not expecting us to share a room? No way. Not appropriate, a bit sleazy, and how would it look if anyone found out, given the rumours Tony’s spread about me? It’s absolutely nothing to do with how my rebellious hormones might cope with the challenge of sleeping a few feet away from Alex.
He looks round at me. ‘Oh, there you are. Sorry I didn’t wait for you but I wanted to get started on check-in. I thought you might be wrung out after the plane journey.’
Meaning my nerves on landing. Drats. He has his faults, but he’s actually pretty thoughtful.
His gaze flickers over me, making my skin fizz, and he frowns. ‘Are there any other rooms available?’ he quizzes the receptionist.
She checks her screen. ‘No, sorry sir. We are fully booked.’
‘What about other hotels in the area?’
‘I can make some calls but it is unlikely given the time of year. It’s very busy.’
‘Right.’ He runs a hand through his dark hair. ‘Of course.’
I start to feel self-conscious. ‘What’s the situation?’
‘We were expecting Stuart to accompany me,’ he throws over a broad shoulder. ‘For a woman, different arrangements would have been made.’
He usually shares rooms with male colleagues? But he’s mega wealthy, could probably buy the whole hotel with his pocket change. He doesn’t seem gay … and he warned me off earlier. Was it all a cover?
Embarrassingly, he catches me studying him. His eyebrows fold down together, then his mouth quirks up on one side. ‘It’s a suite with two separate bedrooms.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s for convenience. Your room would be accessible from the outside corridor as well as the lounge of the suite.’
I release a breath. Separate rooms and he’s not into men. Not that I care, about the latter, I’m just pleased he isn’t suggesting we share a room, as Tony probably would have done.
‘Charley?’
‘In that case, no problem. Take it.’ It’ll be a pain to try and find somewhere nearby and I doubt we’ll be in the suite much anyway.
‘If you’re sure? That’s helpful, thank you.’ After a moment Alex hands me a key card and I take it, careful not to let our fingers touch. I so need dinner and then bed. I’m exhausted, and annoyed with him. Some time to get my head together would be heavenly.
‘I will call someone to take your bags up,’ the receptionist says in her lovely lilt as the concierge rolls up with our luggage in a gold trolley.
‘We can manage,’ Alex replies, ‘but thank you.’
I raise an eyebrow. For a billionaire he’s oddly humble. From the bewildered expression on the receptionist’s face she thinks the same but simply nods, handing Alex a slip to sign and asking if he knows where he’s going.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Walking round me, he starts unloading our luggage, looping the strap of his bag diagonally across his broad chest, retrieving his briefcase and folding the suit carrier over the same arm. When he bends over to grab the handle of my case with his free hand, I step forward.
‘That’s okay, I can get it,’ I say hastily.
‘It’s not a problem, honestly,’ he looks up at me.
His dark lashes are so ridiculously long. I edge away. ‘Honestly,’ I echo, ‘I’m fine.’
‘I’m trying to be a gentleman. Are you always this stubborn?’
‘I’m not being stubborn,’ I defend. ‘I just like taking care of myself.’
Picking my case up, he gives me a small smile that curls my toes. ‘Being independent is admirable but it’s okay to accept help sometimes. Now let’s get upstairs and get rid of our bags so we can eat. We have a table booked for eight thirty.’
‘We do?’ I squeak. Being with this guy in a professional setting is one thing, but at a cosy table for two?
‘It’s what usually happens when people go on business trips together.’ He gives me a pointed look. He’s right, damn it. Leading the way to the lift, he stabs a small round button set in a gold panel. ‘Besides, we need to discuss the schedule and how we’ll work best together.’
With me blindfolded so I can’t see your gorgeousness? The knee-jerk thought flashes across my brain.
‘Or do you suggest we sit separately and shout across the restaurant at each other?’ he asks drolly.
‘No, of course not,’ I mutter. Couldn’t he have filled me in on the plane? Although I guess he had other work to do then, and it’s not for me to challenge. But won’t dinner be a bit uncomfortable? My cheeks go hot with irritation as I mentally rehash his snotty remark in the car about almost believing me.
His blue eyes focus on my face like a satellite tracking device. ‘You’re a funny colour again. Are you all right?’
‘Uh-huh. Just a bit warm.’
He stares down at me, eyes narrowed, but thankfully the lift arrives with a discreet ping. He gestures for me to go first and once we’re both in stabs the P button. Excitement leaps up. I’ve never stayed in a penthouse before. Have I fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of Pretty Woman? But of course, I’m not a prostitute and sex is definitely not going to form part of the arrangement for the next few days.
We sink back against opposite walls of the lift. I fan myself, trying to cool down. The memory of his words reverberates through my head and a pressure builds behind my jaw.
‘Did you mean it?’ I blurt.
He raises an eyebrow, ‘Mean what?’
‘What you said in the car? About not believing me? What I said about men and money?’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I said I almost could.’
‘Same difference,’ I shoot back. ‘And