A weak, chaotic man. Lost to passion and lust.
Or lost to love?
But if that was passionate love, Rafe wanted nothing to do with it. He just had to find another way to win. Control himself and focus. Look at things with a cool head and proceed in an orderly fashion.
Leaning down, he brushed his lips over her cheek. Sarika was the wife he wanted. He just had to convince her of that.
* * *
“What did you do last night?” Elena asked as she sat on the brocade couch in her study flipping through a magazine for ‘inspiration’.
Everything inside Sarika screamed at the question. She stopped pacing and stared out the window at the colorful garden. What had she done? Exhausted herself on the treadmill and in the pool before falling into bed. Alone.
“Not what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
She’d arrived bright and early this morning at Elena’s home dressed in heels and a light grey pant suit with her hair in a no-nonsense twist and her make-up understated – reinforcing her decision to focus solely on business today. But first she’d had to drag her friend out of bed.
“Rafe didn’t take you out last night?”
“No.”
“Did you have dinner in?”
“No.”
“Did you at least kiss?”
Sarika faced her, hands on her hips. “Elena, if you ask me one more question about him, I’m walking out that door.”
“Okay, fine.” She raised her hands in capitulation, but Sarika knew it wasn’t over.
“Did you make love?”
“No. I went to bed alone and woke with a cappuccino and a chocolate from my favorite store on the bedside table. Placed there by Rafe because he has no ability to share his feelings or let me into his heart, so he’s trying to buy me with things.”
Elena’s eyes widened. “What kind of chocolate?”
“That’s not the point. The point is we will never be together, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
Elena shrugged and went back to her magazine, but Sarika wasn’t fooled.
“Did you eat the chocolate?”
Sarika flopped down on the couch beside her. “Yes.”
“And the cappuccino?”
“Yes.” Color rushed up her cheeks.
“Okay.”
The word was like a red flag to a bull, and she turned on her friend, annoyed. “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t just say ‘okay’. It’s not fair.”
With a grin, Elena opened her mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, but before anything could come out, a male voice interrupted them.
“Excuse me. Are you Sarika and Elena?”
Both their heads whipped around to see a handsome man about their age standing in the doorway dressed in a business suit. He carried a slim briefcase in his hand. “I’m sorry. The woman who answered the door told me to come in. Am I interrupting?”
“No, not at all,” Elena said, eyes bright as she gawked at him. She rose from the couch and rubbed her hands over the sweats and pink tee-shirt she wore as if to iron out the wrinkles. It was Sarika’s turn to smirk, guessing Elena regretted not dressing for the ‘office’ as Sarika had done. In fact, the only thing Elena had done after Sarika had pulled her out of bed was brush her teeth and put her long brown hair in a ponytail. Still, from a man’s perspective, she probably looked tousled and sexy.
“I’m Elena Berrucci,” she said with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Did my brother ask you to retrieve something for him?”
“No. Mr. Fabrizio sent me over. I’m to help you with your business plan. It’s one of my specialties. He said you were starting an events planning company.”
Sarika sprang from the couch. “No!”
Elena and the man turned to her.
“You’re not starting a company?” he asked.
“Yes, but—”
“We are,” Elena said, and moved toward him, arm extended in greeting. “I didn’t catch your name?”
“Tom Parsons.” He grasped Elena’s hand.
Elena practically swooned, making Sarika roll her eyes. She could see what was going on, but the last thing she wanted was Rafe’s help. It was another attempt to win her over, but last night had reinforced her need to keep distance between them.
She tapped her foot impatiently as Elena leaned closer to Tom and asked, “Have you eaten breakfast? Sarika and I were about to have a bite in the garden. Why don’t you wait out there and we’ll join you in a minute?”
She led him to the glass doors that opened to the patio. When he exited, she faced Sarika. “What do you mean ‘no’? That man is delicious. And because I’m such a good friend I’ll step aside so you can have him.”
Sarika’s eyebrows rose. “Are you crazy? Rafe would…well, I don’t know what he’d do, but the poor guy works for him. Besides, he’s not my type.”
“What is your type?”
She groaned and slumped back on the couch. “Rich, gorgeous, and emotionally unavailable.”
Elena laughed then sat beside her with a sigh. “Tom could really help us. We’re floundering here, Sarika. We need some hard-headed business advice.”
“I don’t want anything else from Rafe. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Like you did with the coffee and chocolate? Have you ever considered that Rafe doing these things for you is his way of saying he loves you? It’s quite thoughtful and sweet.”
“Or manipulative and cunning. He’s on a campaign, and I’m the prize. I can’t afford to read anything else into it.”
Elena squeezed her hand then pulled her from the couch. “Let’s just hear what Tom has to say. If nothing else, I might get a date out of it. You can’t deny me that.”
Sarika followed Elena to the garden intent on rejecting Rafe’s latest ‘gift’, but as Tom asked questions and gave suggestions, she couldn’t help but be drawn into the discussion. After they finished eating, they moved back to the study and a business plan began to emerge. When she next looked at her watch, she was surprised to see almost five hours had passed. Five amazing hours. Tom was fantastic at his job.
The company was taking shape, but Sarika still found herself on edge and dissatisfied, especially as Elena and Tom became lost in each other. Time she made herself scarce.
She stood and stretched to work out the stiffness in her body. “Do you mind if I leave you two to finish up? I want to see my Godmother before they serve her dinner.” And before Rafe arrived. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him in his car again.
“Of course not,” Elena said. Then whispered, “Thank you,” as she hugged her goodbye.
Sarika had brought her own car, but her bodyguards waited outside the gates and followed her to the hospital. She had a pleasant visit with Ana Lisa until Rafe appeared about an hour later dressed in an impeccably tailored tan suit with a white shirt and sky-blue tie. Instantly she was on alert, steeling herself against the constant yearning that rose in his presence.
Cursing herself for being so weak, she put a welcoming smile on her face for propriety’s sake as he greeted her. The kiss on her cheek didn’t linger, but his hand at her waist squeezed tight. She glanced up and saw the glint of anger in his eyes. What did he have to be angry about? She’s the one who’d been tossed onto an emotional rollercoaster. But this ride was about to end.
As soon as she could figure out how to get off.
When she heard the trolley bearing Ana Lisa’s dinner tray rolling down the hall, she rose from her seat on the bed. “I’ll leave you to visit with Rafe for a while, Zia. Hopefully you’ll be home soon.”
Ana Lisa returned her kiss goodbye. “The doctor thought maybe the day after tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful. We’ll have a little party for you. The first one Elena and I will officially throw.”
“Sarika.” Rafe stopped her as she turned to leave. “Stay a little longer. We can drive home together.”
She smiled at him, but
it didn’t reach her eyes. “I drove myself today. I wouldn’t want to leave the car overnight.”
“Someone will take care of it.”
“That’s not necessary. Besides, I have some shopping to do.”
When she gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, he whispered into her ear, “Wait for me.” It was a command. One she had no intention of obeying.
In the hallway, she headed for the elevator, aware that one of the guards followed her. Arriving on the main level, she exited into a crowd of people. She squeezed by, then darted to the side behind a pillar. Her guard barreled past, and she slipped down a different hallway to another exit.
Guilt rose for an instant before she squashed it. She wasn’t a prisoner. She would do as she wanted, not as Rafe commanded. On cue, her cell phone rang. She considered not answering, but that would be petty.
She raised the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Where are you, sweetheart?” Rafe sounded calm, but underneath she knew he was furious.
“I’m taking a night off. No bodyguards, no limos, no you.”
“You’re being unreasonable. If you just tell me where you are—”
“No. I’m hanging up now, Rafe, and shutting down my cell. Don’t bother calling back.”
“Do not cut me off,” he ordered, voice rising.
“Like you do to me every single time? Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Then she snapped the phone shut.
Chapter Eight
Sarika flagged down a taxi and headed to State Street. She wanted to be around people, and even on a Monday night, the downtown was crowded with tourists and locals alike. Her heels were comfortable, and she joined the throng on the street – window shopping, watching people, and enjoying the warm, summer evening.
Soon she was too hot in her light-weight suit jacket and headed to the waterfront and Stearns Wharf for a hazelnut gelato. Finding a seat near the trio of dolphins fountain at the entrance to the wharf, she stripped down to her silk, lilac-colored tank top and savored a spoonful of her treat.
It felt good to defy Rafe. To somehow regain the pride she’d lost every time she let herself believe he could love her. Let herself get sucked into a place of wanting what she couldn’t have rather than accepting he wasn’t the man for her and moving on.
There were millions of men in the world. Why had she picked the one incapable of returning her feelings? Because she’d had no choice. She’d fallen in love with Rafe the first moment they’d met. She may have only been nine, him fourteen, he’d been the epitome of her girlish fantasies.
“That was a big sigh for such a beautiful woman.”
Sarika looked around in surprise. An attractive man sprawled on the bench beside her with an eyebrow raised. He looked to be around Rafe’s age with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize I had sighed.”
“It shook the heavens.”
She smiled…and waited…
For that little kick in her stomach that signaled attraction. Signaled an interest in any other man but Rafe.
Nothing. She sighed again, dramatically.
He laughed. “That one went beyond Heaven.”
“To Hell and back.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Justin.”
She grasped it, determined to make herself behave like a carefree, young woman, if only for a moment. To let him flirt and charm her, make her feel special – at which, by the glint in his eye, she was sure he’d excel.
“Sarika,” she said.
He kissed her hand. “A beautiful name, too.”
He made her laugh as she finished her gelato, but in the end, she declined his invitation to dinner and went in search of a taxi to take her home. Back to the man who’d been hovering in the background whether he was physically there or not.
After the taxi dropped her off, she looked up at Ana Lisa’s grand villa. Should she circle around and try to sneak in? A sturdy cedar grew below her bedroom balcony, she’d become quite adept at climbing it when she was a teenager.
Rafe had caught her once and lectured her for half an hour. Just as he was sure to reprimand her now, except she was twenty-five not fifteen, and she didn’t have to listen.
She turned and flopped down on the steps. Sneaking in wouldn’t do any good, he would have known she was here the instant the taxi passed through the gates. Besides, a part of her longed for the confrontation, wanted to fight with him. How many minutes before he came to find her?
“Are you happy now?” his voice boomed from the doorway behind her.
Seconds. Not minutes. He must be really mad.
“Nope. You made sure of that.” She stood and faced him, hands on her hips. He’d shed his jacket and tie, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top with the cuffs rolled back along his forearms.
He gesticulated wildly, the Italian in him coming out as he descended the stairs. “All I try to do is protect you. I pay a lot of money to keep the family secure, and like it or not, you are part of this family. There have been threats against us over the years.”
“And when I’m not part of this family? When I belong somewhere else? Will you be breathing down my neck then?”
“I do not breathe down your neck, and you will not belong anywhere else but with me.”
She snorted in disbelief and stormed up the stairs toward the villa. “Oh really? Then why did I just have a lovely evening chatting with an even lovelier man? And why am I seeing him again the next chance I get?” The lie niggled, but no way in hell would she tell him she’d turned the other man’s dinner invitation down.
He was hot on her heels and slammed the door shut behind them once they were inside. “Is that what you did tonight? You went on a date?”
In the middle of the foyer beneath the elegant, crystal chandelier, she spun toward him. “Whatever it was, it was fun, and he never once forbid me to touch him, or pushed me away, or played hot and cold like an indecisive jerk.”
“You touched him?” Fire burned beneath his rigid tone – getting hotter by the second.
She threw her hands in the air. “Oh for crying out loud, Rafe, you missed the point. I will not let you continue to treat me the way you do. You want me, come and get me. At your own risk. And be prepared for all kinds of loud, emotional scenes, because I’m through placating you.”
His brow raised. “When did you ever placate me?”
“All. The. Time. Our whole relationship was about me giving in to you. But I am now officially back on the market, so get used to me dating because there are men out there who want me to love them and will love me back.”
Rafe took a step toward her. “I’ll say it again. You will not be with anyone but me.”
She took a step toward him, matching his belligerent pose. “Does that mean you’re madly in love with me? Because that’s what it’s going to take.”
The silence lengthened, and she watched his eyes storm and his mouth harden. Finally she tossed her head. “I didn’t think so.” Turning on her heel, she clicked across the marble floor toward the stairs.
Jerk. How dare he dictate to her when he couldn’t step up to the plate? And why the hell had she wanted him to? Again.
Damn it, this was the very last time.
But her ears perked, listening for any sound of pursuit, wanting to continue the confrontation that in two seconds had stirred more in her than an hour of flirting with a good-looking stranger.
“Sarika.”
Her breath caught, but she kept going. One step after the other. Fighting the urge to turn and demand he come to her. Submit to her.
God, she was as bad as he was. Everything between them was so primal.
She was almost at the top of the stairs when heavy feet pounded behind her across the marble and up the stairway. Her adrenaline surged and every nerve ending came to excited life. She sprinted the last few steps and raced down the hall toward her bedroom. He easily caught up as she teetered on her heels.
Reaching the safety of her bedroom, she slammed the door shut, but it bounced open off his shoe. Breath rasping through her lungs, she spun around, retreating further into the room as he shut the door then advanced toward her, nostrils flaring like a stallion approaching his mare. Pupils dilated, face flushed.
Her back hit the wall, and she pressed against it. He kept coming, his stare pinning her in place, demanding her capitulation. Closing her eyes, she arched her neck and let her lips fall open – the sexual pull between them too strong to resist.
She didn’t want to resist.
Then he was there, caging her with his arms. Enveloping her with his heat as the hard length of his body melded with hers. His erection jutted against her pelvis, making her knees weak and the muscles in her stomach contract. His breath stirred the tiny tendrils of hair at her temple.
They stayed that way for a while, absorbing each other. Then his hand cupped her nape.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
She did, slowly, feeling like lead weights were attached to the lids. His gaze burned into her, dark and feral. Color scored his cheeks. She moved her hips against him, and a groan rumbled up his throat.
“Say it,” he ordered, voice rough.
The connection from her brain to her tongue was fuzzy, and she licked her lips. He watched the movement intently.
“Damn it, Sarika, say it!”
She stared at him, knowing she was too far gone. Her back curved, and she rubbed her breasts on his chest like a feline in heat. “Kiss me, Rafe.”
His mouth slammed down on hers, and she snaked her arms around his neck, opening beneath him – her lips, her heart, her legs – one of them twining around his thigh. It felt so damn good, like coming home, and she gave herself up to it. To the feel of his hands in her hair as he pulled the tresses free of her clip, the other hand slipping beneath her jacket to press against her spine. His lips molded hers, teeth nibbling and scraping. His tongue plunged into her mouth.
He held her in place and took her over. She ceased to think, just bathed in heat and sensation. From the tips of her toes to the tips of her eyelashes. Needing. Wanting. She couldn’t get close enough, tried to climb up his body, but his hands moved to her shoulders and pushed her jacket off, forcing her arms down. When they were free of the material, she thrust them upward again and dug her fingers into his hair. Curled into the silky strands, held tight.
The Fabrizio Bride Page 8
