Modern Romance January Books 5-8. Heidi Rice
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‘But he’s coming over. He looks like he wants to talk to you.’
‘Well, I don’t wish to talk to him.’ Rafe firmly took her hand and walked her down to the lakefront.
‘It’s beautiful.’
The lights were reflected in her eyes and flickered across her face. She was so pretty. Sinful whispers swirled in his head, all the things he’d do to her, with her, for her. All the things he probably shouldn’t.
‘You’re using me to avoid talking to anyone else,’ she noted as they walked to the water’s edge.
‘Yes. It’s working well.’
‘Why did you bother coming at all if you didn’t want to talk to them?’
‘To be seen.’
‘Because?’
‘Because I’m here and they can’t ignore that fact.’
‘You have history with these people? With that man?’
He hesitated for a moment, but what did it matter if she knew? ‘That man you just asked about is my nephew. I heard he wanted to buy the villa. Unfortunately for him, I was the successful bidder.’
‘Your nephew?’ She turned around to stare again at the man still standing on the patio just outside the wide-open doors. He knew she was processing the vast age difference. Maurice was thirty-two years older than he.
‘You wanted to beat him more than you actually wanted the home?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.
‘No, I wanted the villa.’ He turned to look out at the water so he didn’t have to see anyone from the family who’d made his life hell. ‘I always wanted the villa.’
He didn’t know why he’d admitted that to her—he presented it to everyone as the requisite luxury Italian holiday home string to his property portfolio.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Childhood dream,’ he muttered dryly. Thing was, it was true. He’d wanted it all his life. But it seemed the joke was on him. Walking into that villa this afternoon, he’d only felt emptier than ever.
‘But you also enjoyed stealing it from under your nephew’s nose,’ she added shrewdly.
Rafe smiled bitterly. He had, of course. Blocking Maurice’s interest in the villa had been a bonus point in the transaction.
‘You’re clearly not close.’
‘Clearly not.’ He straightened, determined to dismiss this conversation.
The fact that the villa had come with a pretty nymph in the garden was the one highlight of the day. He wasn’t squandering the possibilities by getting bogged down in the past now. ‘I didn’t bring you along to have you pry into my personal life,’ he said lazily, slipping back into Lothario mode. ‘Entertain me another way.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re one arrogant ass, you know that?’
He did, actually. But he wasn’t used to his dates calling him on it—at least, not quite so soon in his acquaintance. And never with amusement—it was with anger that they’d hurl that insult at him. Frankly, right now he was using his vast experience of arrogance to keep her burgeoning curiosity at bay. He hadn’t brought her along to talk to him about those things but to look at and to laugh with and, yes, possibly explore the sensual promise he’d felt flare between them from the second they’d met. But he liked that she called him on it.
Struggling with conflicting emotions, he took a hurried couple of paces to catch up to her. ‘I’m sorry.’ He caught her hand in his and fell into step. ‘That was rude. I was uncomfortable talking about him. I don’t want to talk about him.’
‘That’s totally fair enough. But you could have just said that and I’d have respected it.’
‘Would you?’ he asked pointedly.
She looked at him for a moment and then grinned sheepishly. ‘I am hopelessly curious about people, so probably not.’
He grinned back, refreshed again by her candour. ‘You’re this curious about everyone?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘People fascinate me.’
That response was stupidly flattening, because he knew it was the truth. That was why she knew the gardener’s life story, why she knew the history of the village. Grace James was one of those rare people who was genuinely nice. Interested in other people, in their stories and their lives. But why be so interested—what was lacking in her own life?
‘People find you fascinating too,’ he said.
She laughed at that. ‘No. No, they don’t. And don’t feel you have to flatter me by arguing the point. Oh, look!’
He followed the direction of her deliberate distraction. Sure enough, she was watching other people again. He frowned at the scene going on at the edge of the palazzo’s private beach. A proposal no less. The fool was on bended knee, there was a trio of musicians and inevitably there was a guy with a camera filming the whole thing. Thankfully it only took a few moments.
Rafe watched Grace as she watched the happy couple kiss.
‘Public proposals are so vain,’ he muttered.
‘You’re calling them out for being vain?’ She laughed mischievously and sent him a look from beneath her thick lashes. ‘I think it’s romantic. With all those lights on the water, and the warm breeze and the full moon and the music...it’s perfect. They’ll never forget it.’
‘Of course they won’t, because it’s all been filmed for posterity. No doubt an edited clip will be uploaded onto the Internet before the night is over.’ He shook his head. ‘Such moments should be private. Not for show.’
‘Why, Rafael.’ She turned to face him, her eyes and skin illuminated by the soft warm glow of a hundred floating lanterns. ‘You’re a romantic.’
‘I’m what?’ he asked, startled.
‘A romantic,’ she marvelled triumphantly.
‘No.’ He tapped her on the nose with his finger. ‘I meant making a mistake like that should definitely be kept private.’
‘A mistake?’
‘Marriage,’ he growled.
‘Of course you’re against marriage. It would narrow the field too much for you.’
‘That’s right,’ he agreed wickedly. ‘Life’s too short to settle down and be with just one person for ever. How boring.’
‘Oh, that’s right, you’re easily bored. You’re a billionaire with a feeble imagination.’
‘Trust me, my imagination is all good.’
She shook her head and turned back to the couple. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s boring at all.’
‘You’re the romantic,’ he said. Of course she was. ‘You know it never works out,’ he said softly.
She looked back at him with amused speculation in her eyes. ‘Are you talking of your own relationships?’
‘Anyone’s. Everyone’s.’
‘So, let me guess...’ She studied him impishly. ‘You’re never getting married. Never having children.’
‘Absolutely not.’ He half laughed.
‘Because your parents weren’t happily married?’
‘My parents weren’t married at all,’ he said simply.
‘And you think that’s scandalous in today’s world?’ She grinned. ‘What