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Breathing in deeply, she undid her bra and shimmied out of her undies, carefully putting them on the low armchair in the corner. This was one opportunity she was never going to get again, so she may as well go in braless and bold. Then she finger-combed her hair and twirled it into a low bun at the nape of her neck.
‘Are you dressed yet? We need to get going or we’ll miss the fireworks,’ he called from outside the door.
With an overwhelming sense of mortification she stepped out from the room and refused to meet his eyes. ‘I can’t wear this. It’s indecent.’
He was so silent she had to look up at him. He’d dressed in another tuxedo. How many did the guy have? Like the first, this fitted to perfection and was annoyingly gorgeous in the way it emphasised his lean, strong frame.
He regarded her for a full thirty seconds—so long she started to fidget with her watch strap.
‘It’s perfect,’ he finally said. Roughly.
‘It’s far from perfect.’ She looked down at the dress and put up her hand, self-consciously covering the neckline. ‘It’s pulling in all the wrong places.’
‘Right places. Very right.’
‘Because you like your dates to look—’
‘Beautiful. Of course. I’m not sure the watch works, though.’
‘Actually, it keeps good time and this Cinderella needs to keep an eye on it. I can’t be out past midnight.’
‘Because you might have too much fun?’ He reached out and lifted her wrist. ‘It’s old.’
‘It’s vintage,’ she corrected.
‘It’s a man’s.’
‘Yes,’ she muttered defensively. It was very precious to her. ‘An old man’s watch.’
He released her startlingly quickly. ‘Let’s go. How is your knee?’
‘Fine as long as I don’t try to run. I’m keeping the sandals on.’
‘Then I shall remain on hand as your long-suffering emergency support structure.’
‘Thank you, I so appreciate that,’ she cooed. ‘If anyone asks me what I’m doing there, I’m going to tell them the truth,’ she muttered.
‘Marvellous.’ He led her outside. ‘I expect we’ll have a ball.’
The car was low off the ground, red, polished to within an inch of its life and undoubtedly capable of screaming speed. She fastened her seatbelt.
‘I won’t be drinking, so I can drive home,’ she said primly.
Her plan to abstain wasn’t about driving but the insane attraction for him she was battling. If she had even a sniff of alcohol, she wasn’t sure she could control the reckless temptation that seemed to have materialised inside her at the mere sight of him.
He sent her a look. ‘Sure thing,’ he said blandly. ‘They’ll have some very nice champagne there, though. You might like to try just one glass.’
‘I’m not a risk-taker.’ Definitely not around this man.
‘Yet today you’ve trespassed on private property and are now going to a party in a borrowed designer dress with a man you barely know.’
‘In a Ferrari, no less.’ She nodded solemnly and braced herself for his no doubt reckless driving skills. ‘Most adventurous evening of my life so far.’
‘That’s...’ He glanced at her, but his brows lifted and he didn’t finish his comment. ‘Why don’t you take risks?’
Because she’d always had to hold back. Always been on the alert from years of conditioning, of watching over her shoulder and being cautious. But she had her safety plan figured out—she knew who Rafael was and Alex would call her in the morning if she didn’t look in on him. And the imp in her wanted to have fun for once. It would be an experience.
‘I struggle to open up and trust people.’ She stared, amazed as Rafael began to laugh.
‘Don’t look like that!’ She mock-punched his arm. ‘I’m serious. What you’re seeing is the new me. Opening up and delivering one hundred percent honesty. It’s liberating.’ She smiled.
‘The new you,’ he said, his smile not gone. ‘One hundred percent honesty one hundred percent of the time?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said fervently.
He roared with laughter this time. ‘No one is that honest.’
‘I am.’
‘Definitely not you.’
‘I am,’ she said indignantly.
‘Really? Could you be honest with someone even if you knew it was going to hurt them?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t it better to play it safe sometimes and protect someone’s feelings?’
That this guy thought about protecting someone’s feelings surprised her. ‘You’d actually protect another person’s feelings?’
‘Sure.’
So had he lied to her about how her dress looked? She just knew he had. ‘I bet you send flowers and jewels when you leave your lovers.’
‘That’s not generally a good idea,’ he said. ‘I prefer to leave them breathless.’
‘Oh, please.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Well, you’re absolutely the kind of person who cares about someone else’s feelings, Ms I’ll-Water-the-Roses-for-the-Old-Guy.’
‘You say that like it’s not a compliment.’
He laughed again.
‘Not being honest hurts people more,’ she said with soft passion. ‘Because in the end the truth does always come out.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re so wrong. People lie and get away with it every day. Not just murderers. Cheats. Thieves. Everyday white lies as well.’
‘But it eats them up inside,’ she said softly. ‘Sure, you may never know that someone has lied to you, but the liar knows. And the liar suffers for it. Even if they think they don’t, they do. They’re weakened. Each lie breaks them down piece by piece.’
His gaze intensified on her. ‘Told a lot of lies in your lifetime?’
She held his gaze and her smile twisted. ‘More than you’d ever believe.’
And she’d been weakened by every one.
CHAPTER THREE (#ua6333a36-0c23-5549-ba9e-9da7a1fa2a1f)
‘YOU’VE LIED YOUR head off your whole life?’ Rafe didn’t believe her. But he was drawn in by the shadows flickering in her eyes. ‘Why so many lies?’
‘For protection, as you suggested. But it still does damage and I refuse to lie any more.’ She squared her shoulders and smiled. But it wasn’t the bubbly smile he’d seen earlier when she’d been amongst the roses and he wondered if she was actually serious.
‘I’m like you,’ she said. ‘Upfront about what I want out of my life. What I will accept, and what I won’t.’
‘What makes you think I’m upfront about what I want from my life?’ How did she think she knew anything about him?
‘You’re decisive and take action to get what you want. The fact that I’m sitting in your car right now is a perfect example of your determination.’
Good point. He was used to getting his way, though honestly he’d not been certain she’d agree to attend the party with him. Even now he wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped away once they arrived at the palazzo. He’d have to keep her occupied.
‘But if this is the “new you”, then you’re getting what you want as well,’ he teased.
He’d been absurdly satisfied when she’d said yes, but it had been his first victory of a less than stellar day and he’d take it.
‘Once I’d had the time to process your...invitation, I realised it could be an interesting experience.’ She nodded primly, but the effect was ruined when an effervescent smile lit up her face. ‘Not one I’m likely to repeat.’
True, though why the fact should give him a twinge, he didn’t know. He’d been feeling off all day. He’d deliberately not visited the Villa Rosetta until the refurbishment was complete, but while he could appreciate its beauty and value, there’d not been the pleasure of getting what he’d wanted for so long.
Fool. What had he expected? The decades-old promise that the villa represented had never been fulfilled and never could be. His father, Roland, was long since dead. And that finality left an unusual melancholy just beneath his skin.
So not Rafe. He never wasted time looking backwards, he pushed forward, making headway against the resistance he was accustomed to. He pushed harder than anyone because he’d always had to. Illegitimate, unwanted heir that he was. Securing the villa should have been a pinnacle moment but it was larger than he’d realised. Its vastness screamed out for more people to be living in it. For the family he’d never had.
Fool. He wasn’t eight years old and full of fairy-tale dreams for a loving family now.
The woman wandering about the grounds had been a welcome distraction. He’d watched from the villa, initially outraged at her blithe trespassing. But he’d grown increasingly intrigued as she’d strolled through the roses with that smile lighting up her face.
‘The fireworks are supposed to be spectacular,’ she said as she waited for him to start the car. ‘You’re promising me all the fireworks, right?’
He glanced at her profile—had she really meant that as innocently as it had sounded? She turned to look at him fully, her expression limpid. The longer he looked at her, the deeper the colour ran in her cheeks. He was fascinated by the hint of vulnerability in her reaction.
‘What?’ she suddenly snapped. ‘Do I have something on my nose?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Are you flirting with me?’
‘What? No!’ That colour in her cheeks ran crimson now. ‘Hurry up and drive. I want to see the fireworks. I’ve been looking forward to them all day.’
Warmth flowed through his veins. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you were flirting with me.’
Her mouth opened, then closed, then her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re shocking, you know that?’ She stared straight ahead as if to ignore him. But then suddenly turned to snap at him again. ‘Does everyone flirt with you?’
‘Mostly.’ Still grinning, he finally started the engine, enjoying the crazy whim that had led him to take a total stranger to the most exclusive party on the European continent.
Her eyes had hit him the second he’d been able to see again after wiping all that water from his own. Large and framed with long lashes, they were caramel-coloured and captivated him completely. When he added her flawless, lightly tanned skin, providing a perfect backdrop for those wide eyes and lovely curving lips, it made for pretty. Her long hair was tied back in a bun but had hints of blonde and brown in the loose tendrils that curled about her sweetheart-shaped face...
Yes, it all added up to his new definition of gorgeous. She was on the shorter side, with curves in the places he appreciated most. That worn denim skirt had stopped just at her knees and shown smooth-looking legs, while her blouse had been floral. He’d liked the way the buttons had strained to contain her breasts. He’d imagined popping them open one by one. But in the end it had been the melted caramel colour of her eyes—all sweet warmth—that he’d kept returning to. There was a lightness in them that he found unusual, enchanting, sweet.
Rafe did not do sweet. Rafe did sophisticated. It was safer to play with women who knew the rules of the one-night-only game. But fresh, half-wet, funny Grace intrigued him. Temptation had been irresistible and reckless.
So now here she was alongside him, wearing a killer dress that emphasised every one of those bountiful curves. He wanted to kiss down that deep scooped neckline and feel her lean closer for more. His muscles tensed.
Well, he had been celibate for six weeks—virtually a marathon for him and the longest stretch in his adult life. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the winding road. Grace was not a one-night-stand prospect. She wasn’t the type. When she’d said this was the most adventurous night of her life so far, she’d meant it.
A small army of models was arriving at the villa tomorrow. There’d be more than one to frolic with afterwards if he still wanted to. Frankly, though, the speculation didn’t excite him.
He glanced at Grace again and wished he had that hose once more. If that dress were wet, it’d turn translucent and he’d know for certain that she wore nothing beneath it. He suspected so, he could almost see the outline of her nipples. He shifted in his seat and touched his foot harder on the accelerator, irritated with his sudden descent into basic thinking. Was he suddenly some hormonal teen? The sooner they got to the party, the sooner he could get a grip on himself.
Palazzo Chiara was lit up like a fairy-tale castle. He pulled up by the waiting valet and scooted around to help Grace out before she tripped on the stones or something equally unfortunate. But his half-sarcastic gallantry was rewarded when he saw the look on her face as she gazed at the palazzo.
‘You like it?’ He couldn’t help smiling at her reaction.
‘It’s huge.’
‘The Villa Rosetta is big.’ He puffed out his chest.
Her eyes kindled with amusement. ‘You’re defensive about size? I never would have suspected you’d be so insecure.’
‘I told you I needed armour tonight.’ He winked. ‘You think it’s better than the Villa Rosetta?’
‘Nothing is better than Alex’s roses,’ she declared loyally. ‘This place is too huge. It’s beautiful, but it’s not a home. The Villa Rosetta is a home—you can sense the love in it.’
Her genuine words touched a raw spot and he refrained from replying by guiding her into the reception hall. A liveried waiter stepped forward with a gleaming silver tray laden with tall champagne flutes.
‘You’re sure you don’t want a drink?’ Rafe teased her.
She shook her head. He passed on the offer as well and walked her further into the room so she could appreciate the gold and marble interior. Her breathy gasps delighted him and he kept walking, aware of heads turning. He carefully avoided eye contact with a couple of the models due at the villa tomorrow. He didn’t want to be interrupted yet. Grace’s face was fascinatingly mobile and it was impossible for her to hide her reactions. Captivated, he pointed out more of the various features—from the tumbling crystal chandeliers to the sparkling waterfall in the centre of the room. But she saw some of the people looking their way and definitely recognised some.
‘Famous people,’ she noted quietly. ‘Rich people.’
‘Rich and famous people.’ He nodded.
‘A Venn diagram of the upper echelon.’ She nodded. ‘And just one outside the circle.’
‘Is that one feeling self-conscious?’
‘Absolutely. But she’s absolutely determined to get over herself.’
He laughed, liking her frankness.
‘Pleasure to see you here, Rafe.’ Toby Winters, a party-hard aristocratic banker with a vast holiday estate on the lake, interrupted them loudly. ‘I heard work on Villa Rosetta is complete. Welcome to the neighbourhood.’
‘Thank you,’ he said calmly. ‘Julia, lovely to see you.’
