CHAPTER THREE
‘Right, let’s do this.’ Sapphire’s reluctant escort grabbed her arm to stop her from toppling over and threw the strap of her bag over his shoulder.
She caught an edge of exasperation in the man’s voice and said, ‘You don’t have to take me to my room – I’ll be fine.’
He sighed. ‘What is your number?’ He sounded weary and slightly pissed off, which annoyed Sapphire.
‘My phone number?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Your room number.’ His voice hardened and she bridled.
‘Well I didn’t know what number you wanted. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m an idiot.’ She shucked her arm out of his grasp.
‘Then stop acting like one.’ He gripped her arm firmly and propelled her out of the bar, his voice low and intimidating. She widened her eyes with what she hoped was a grateful, but seductive look, ignoring the warning tone. She guessed it didn’t have the desired effect, as his grip on her arm remained pincer tight and his eyes flashed anger.
‘Room number?’ he demanded again as she stumbled along the corridor, bouncing off the walls.
‘Twenty-three,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I quite like your Neanderthal approach to this,’ she added, before tripping up the stairs – which necessitated another arm-grabbing rescue manoeuvre.
‘I mean to put you to bed.’ He shook his head as she tried to arch an eyebrow at his words, failing badly. He let out a long, impatient sigh and closed his eyes. ‘Give me strength.’
Sapphire smiled at him reassuringly as they wound their way up the staircase. ‘It will be fine, don’t worry,’ she soothed.
‘I wish I had as much faith in your capabilities as you appear to have.’ His eyes flashed steely grey and she closed her mouth, biting back the quip she was about to make.
She was dragged past portraits of ancient dignitaries looking down their distinguished noses as she tottered in her heels, while her temporary minder cursed under his breath holding on to his charge with a death grip.
When she stumbled once more, he pushed her up against the wall. In her drunken state, she thought he was going to kiss her; she’d seen it in enough movies – that’s what they did. But he bent down and lifted up her right foot, taking off one spiky shoe and then the other one as she obediently lifted her left foot. The lights in the corridor highlighted his thick black hair as he bowed down in front of her and, without thinking, she stooped down and ran her fingers through it. Her saviour’s head whipped up, his eyes once again flashing anger. ‘For God’s sake, what do you think I am – some kind of gigolo?’
‘Well, you thought I was a prostitute.’
His look told her that he was still undecided on that one, and she grabbed her shoes out of his hand and flounced along the corridor. ‘I’ll take care of these. They are Manola Blahniks, if you don’t mind.’
‘If you say so.’ He caught up with her easily as she crashed into a marble statue, sending it wobbling precariously. Grabbing the statue, he held it steady as Sapphire righted herself once more.
‘Whoops, sorry!’ she said to the statue and then laughed, pointing at it. ‘Look, it’s made of stone and I said sorry to it.’
‘So you did.’ The man was clearly unimpressed with her wit and Sapphire was disappointed as she’d thought they were having a splendid time.
‘I thought it was funny,’ she said petulantly as he propped her up against the wall once more. He fed money into a vending machine tucked in an alcove and two bottles of water plopped into the tray. He stuffed one in each pocket and grabbed hold of her again as if she were a rag doll, pulling her along like this until they reached her room. ‘Here we are. Give me your key card.’
‘Ooh, I like a masterful man.’ Sapphire fumbled in her bag for her key card.
‘So you said.’ He grabbed the card out of her hand and slid it into the lock, pushing the door open with his foot. He pulled her into the room and for a heartbeat she stared at him as sobriety momentarily returned. She was acutely aware that they were alone in a darkened room that was dominated by a huge bed. She strode over to the window to open the curtains, yanking at them unsuccessfully before giving up.
Mr Cavarelli set down a bottle of water on each bedside table, frowning at her antics.
‘Taking it all a bit for granted, aren’t you?’ She turned away from the window and looked pointedly at the water bottles.
‘Both bottles are for you. If you wake in the night, you will find water close to you.’ He walked over to the window, pressed a button, and the curtains slid away from the windows. ‘This is how they work. I’ll shut them again if you wish.’
‘Ooh, that’s clever,’ she said, immediately pressing the button with a grin. The curtains slid over the window once more, shutting out the one source of light, and a rush of fear gripped her. What the hell was she doing? She didn’t even know this man. ‘You’re not staying.’ She folded her arms over her chest decisively.
‘It had not even crossed my mind.’
‘Oh.’ She felt a bit foolish, but a wave of nausea stopped her thoughts and she sat down heavily on the bed, focusing on her gurgling stomach and spinning head. ‘Sorry. I’m so drunk. Won’t do it again.’ She waggled her finger in the air. ‘But it wasn’t my fault – it was that stupid Goldilocks and her giant, heaving tits.’ She cupped her hands over her own breasts and jiggled them around a bit to ram home the point. It was important he understood that it was all the ginormous-breasted woman’s fault. But even as she spoke, she lost the battle to stay upright and sank sideways onto the bed.