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She was inadequately dressed for the blistering heat, in a pair of jeans, a pink and blue striped tee-shirt and trainers. She had a jumper slung over her shoulders and her luggage was scant. A brightly coloured orange suitcase that looked as though it had seen better days and a backpack.

He noticed the way she stiffened as soon as she spotted him lounging against the SUV.

He didn’t rush to meet her.

He waited until she was ushered towards him and then pushed himself away from the car.

‘Made it here in one piece, I see. Was your journey comfortable?’ He reached for the suitcase and half shrugged when she didn’t let it go.

‘You can take the backpack,’ she said, hoisting it off. ‘It weighs a ton.’

Hope could see from the very second their eyes met that he had asked her to join him against his better judgement.

He was going to endure her company because she held a possible key to some kind of ongoing relationship with his brother. He had resigned himself to having her there as a middleman, but his expression said that it wasn’t to be fun and laughter for him.

Her job was to be the translator between his language and Carlos-speak, which was another language altogether.

However, there was no point simmering with resentment for a week and a half.

She would prepare the groundwork for Javier to meet his brother with more empathy and willingness to listen than it seemed he’d ever demonstrated before.

As their eyes tangled, she momentarily doubted she would be able to achieve that.

‘What have you got in this thing?’ he asked, spinning round on his heels while she fell in line.

‘Camera equipment.’

‘Would that be for the sightseeing tour you won’t be having because this is a utilitarian exercise and not a holiday jaunt?’

Hope gritted her teeth. He wasn’t being argumentative. He was being straight with her, which didn’t mean that she liked him any the more for it.

‘I’m afraid I might have to take a couple of pictures here and there,’ she said tersely. ‘My mother will be expecting it.’

‘Really? Why is that?’

‘Because as far as she’s concerned, I’m here on a freelance photography job. In line with your can’t breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ve had to make something credible up. Don’t think I liked doing that.’

She was so busy fulminating, as she half jogged to keep pace with him, that she only noticed their mode of transport when she was practically standing in front of it. She came to a dead stop and gaped.

The jet in front of them was all black and polished to within an inch of its life. If she’d stepped closer, she would be able to see her reflection in the gleaming, mirror finish.

‘Is this yours?’ she asked, shading her eyes as she looked up at him.

In front of her stood the billionaire who had meant every word when he’d told her he could buy the warehouse where her workshop was lodged.

Buy it and chuck her out.

This was the ultimate symbol of wealth. As she looked at him, she saw someone who was neither boastful nor ashamed of it.

This manifestation of power was just something else he took for granted.

He couldn’t have been more different from his brother, who always made great efforts to downplay his considerable financial legacy.

Naturally, she loathed this obvious display of money and status and yet, deep down, she knew that she was reluctantly, shamefully, impressed.

‘Are you impressed?’

‘The opposite,’ Hope lied blithely, sincerely wishing she meant it.