by Annie West
‘Something to do with Lily?’
Raffa’s eyes fixed on the woman in front of him but she didn’t look back, just kept walking.
‘Why should it be to do with her?’
‘Because when I arrived at the airport I saw her crossing the tarmac to board a plane.’
Raffa stumbled on the perfectly even surface of the path. ‘Lily?’ He’d only left her a short time ago. ‘You’re mistaken.’
Consuela stopped and turned. Her expression was neutral but there was something in her eyes he didn’t recognise. ‘I know Lily, remember? It was definitely her but she didn’t see me. She looked...’
‘What? How did she look?’ Tension hummed through him, drawing him tight.
Consuela’s mouth tightened. ‘Let’s just say that if the security staff hadn’t stopped me I’d have gone over and given her a hug.’ Her eyes narrowed and now he recognised her expression. Disapproval. Of him.
‘But our flight isn’t till tomorrow.’ Why he said it he didn’t know, except he was struggling to grasp the fact Lily had gone. He felt like someone had blasted a gaping hollow in his chest. He braced his feet wider.
It didn’t make sense. He should be pleased to be rid of the woman who’d betrayed him. She’d saved him the necessity of travelling with a corporate spy.
Except ever since he’d accused her he’d felt wrong.
As if he were the one at fault.
As if he’d missed something.
As if he should have taken time to listen to her protests of innocence.
Doubt had beaten at him from the moment he’d left her but he hadn’t let himself weaken and return. He’d had too much on his mind—his plan to exact justice on Bradshaw.
Now he felt as if he’d got his priorities wrong.
‘Tell me. Who else was sniffing around this deal? Who else courted Bradshaw?’
Consuela’s eyes widened but she rattled off names. Big leisure company consortiums. The ones he knew about.
‘Anyone else? De Laurentis?’
‘No, but Lily is the researcher. You should ask her.’ One perfectly arched eyebrow rose. ‘The last whisper I heard was that he had his sights on something in Asia. Thailand, I think.’
Raffa closed his eyes, a sick feeling dragging at his belly. He’d jumped so eagerly at the idea Lily had betrayed him. Had he wanted to believe it? Was it easier to believe the worst than try to live with the unsettling feelings she stirred? What did that say about him?
‘Raffa! Are you okay? You look like you’re going to keel over.’
He snapped his eyes open, finding no comfort in Consuela’s concern.
‘Speak to me. What’s wrong?’
He lifted his face to the sunlight filtering through the trees. Way above was the wide blue arch of sky where Lily was flying away from him.
Realisation skewered him like an insect on a pin. It was an effort to draw breath and his voice, when he found it, was choked. ‘I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.’
* * *
‘So you’d call yourself a digital nomad, Ms Nolan? Working all around the globe? How do you find that?’
Lily smiled at the woman in the dark suit at the front of the audience. ‘Lily, please.’ She gripped the podium, not with horrible nerves as when she’d started her presentation, but because it was comfortable.
After visiting her family, joining the women’s business breakfast group was the first thing she’d done on her return. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted to bury herself at home and stay there. Which was all the proof she needed that she had to do this.
She’d been shaking with nerves before each meeting, especially today, but came away each time feeling better than before. This was the first time she’d presented and initially it had been tough. Standing in front of all these people, sharing insights into her enterprise, was the test she’d set herself. Proof that she could and would be strong.
Which was a laugh, given how forlorn she felt. Only the determination to keep busy stopped her from curling up and weeping into her pillow. She wouldn’t go back to the woman she’d been before Raffaele had forced her to change.
‘Like anything, there are positives and negatives. I can work almost anywhere—’
‘Just give me the chance to work on a tropical island,’ someone said and there was a ripple of good-natured chuckles.
‘It had a lot going for it.’ Lily’s smile grew fixed as an image of Raffaele filled her brain. The touch of his hands, the velvet tone of his voice, the bliss they’d shared, the sheer, dizzying delight.
And the abyss of pain.
She blinked and refocused.
‘But it’s still work, wherever I’m located, so access to a reliable network is vital. I couldn’t risk long power outages, for instance, so I’d give storm season in the tropics a miss.’ She forced a smile into her voice.
‘And there are benefits to being in an office, face to face with colleagues. I’m currently looking into ways to make that happen regularly, so my team and I aren’t always working in virtual isolation.’
‘I’m afraid that’s all we have time for this morning.’ The MC made her way up to the podium, smiling.
Lily was returning her smile when a ripple of unease skated across her flesh, tugging her body to alert.
A whisper coursed through the room. Lily saw heads turn, not towards her as the MC thanked her and the audience applauded, but towards the back of the room.
Lily shook hands, said something suitable and widened her tight smile. But she didn’t hear what the MC said about upcoming events. It was drowned by the thump of her pulse as slowly, with a feeling of inevitability, she lifted her gaze towards the rear exit.
Raffaele. Large as life and more gorgeous than she remembered.
Her knees loosened to wobbling jelly, making her grab the podium for support. A mere couple of months wasn’t nearly long enough to get over him.
She’d known it was Raffaele from that first prickle of awareness, that familiar soaring sensation inside. Yet she hadn’t believed it.
Fate, and Raffaele, couldn’t be that cruel.
But it seemed they could.
The MC struggled to get the crowd’s attention. But every woman had turned to watch Raffaele, suave and appallingly handsome in his trademark open-necked shirt, casual jacket and pale trousers that emphasised the length and strength of his powerful limbs. Lily’s heart slammed her ribs in a stop-start beat that left her breathless.
His eyes met hers and she’d swear she heard a whoosh of flame as her body ignited.
Or was that her paper-thin defences? She wasn’t ready to face him. She needed more time to look convincingly unaffected. Despair lashed her.
The MC said something, motioning her towards the side aisle of the auditorium.
Gaze still locked on Raffaele, Lily stepped away from the podium, forcing her head up and shoulders back. She prayed she wouldn’t stumble on those cotton-wool legs but refused to watch the ground. This was the man who’d used then discarded her like a piece of trash. She’d meet him eye to eye with no hint of weakness.
Vaguely she was aware of the audience watching, of excited whispers. But it was the whispers filling her head that nearly undid her. Cara, tesoro, and all those other Italian endearments he’d used in that deep velvet voice.
Lily told herself he’d used them deliberately to get what he wanted—the novelty of a twenty-eight-year-old virgin in his bed. Because if he’d meant any of them he’d have listened to her explanation, given her a chance. He’d have believed her.
She stopped close, staring into azure eyes that reminded her how he’d taken her to heaven. Ruthlessly she shut the memory down, licking her lips to moisten her parched mouth.
Instantly his gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath stalled. One look! That was all it took for him to turn her inside out all over again.
‘I presume you want to talk with me?’ Her voice was steely. She was amazed at how firm it sounded.
His ey
es jerked up and she was surprised at how distracted he looked. How far from the determined, decisive CEO who’d ruthlessly cut her adrift.
For a moment he looked about to speak. Then he nodded and held open the door. The whispers grew to excited speculation as the door swung closed behind them.
* * *
‘You’ve changed.’ He hadn’t meant to blurt it out but he was shocked.
Not by the way Lily had held the audience in the palm of her hand. He knew she was capable and a good communicator when genuinely interested in something.
Nor was it her new clothes that surprised him. She looked good in slim-fitting trousers, heels and an amber silk top. More than good. He wanted nothing more than the freedom to run his hands over her body. Explore the satiny skin of her breasts and inner thighs that no silk could match. Let down her hair and tug her into him.
She swung her head round so their eyes met and there it was again, that punch to the gut. That frigid glitter. That total lack of welcome or warmth.
His belly tightened as terror tugged his vitals. It wasn’t new. It had grown familiar since she’d gone. Yet he’d hoped for a glimmer of warmth.
‘Of course I’ve changed. You taught me a lot.’ Her mouth twisted and he felt searing pain. ‘I learn from my mistakes.’ Then the shutters came up.
She looked like a duchess surveying a beggar. Despite a lifetime pretending not to care, concealing emotions and revelling in the success and wealth he’d acquired, this time it mattered. It reminded him of his pedigree of poverty, his grubby past and every sordid encounter. Worse, it spoke of the way he’d mistreated her. Her disdain sliced to his soul, carving through the vast emptiness inside.
How had he thought he had a chance?
‘Raffaele?’ Her eyes rounded and for a fleeting moment her hand brushed his. The silver bangle on her wrist caught his eye and his heart pounded with excitement.
That touch, that moment of concern, and the fact she wore his gift, were all it took for hope to rise. Not because he really stood a chance, but because he had to try. He couldn’t go on like this.
‘We need to talk.’ He quickened his pace, ushering her from the building. His hire car was parked at the kerb but she walked on when he would have opened the car door, her stride biting the pavement.
‘Here.’ It was a café. Not private. Not what he’d planned. But he’d take what he could get.
He followed her in, past empty tables and a display of cakes. Lily hesitated before taking the furthest table, tucked into a corner. Raffa grabbed a seat, wondering if she realised she couldn’t get away unless he moved. He doubted it. She looked distracted, her gaze skittering around the room.
There was silence till they’d ordered and received their coffees. Raffa took a sip and moved the cup away.
‘Not up to your high standards?’ Disapproval laced her tone.
‘I’m not thirsty.’ He had no idea how it tasted. His mouth was full of the metallic tang of fear. He leaned towards her. ‘I’m sorry, Lily. So sorry.’
Her cup clattered back into its saucer, coffee spilling onto her hand.
Raffa heard her hiss of shock as he grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards him, reaching for a napkin at the same time to blot the hot liquid.
‘Don’t! I’m all right. I—’
Her words stopped when he lifted her hand, pressing his lips to the spot the liquid had seared. Raffa closed his eyes, a shudder of longing passing through him at the taste of Lily, as sweet and enticing as he remembered.
Pain battered his chest.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t apologise enough. I accused you of something I should have known you’d never do. I wronged you.’ His lips moved against her skin, his eyes shut to block out the rejection he knew he’d see in her face.
He’d never thought himself a coward but he was now. He couldn’t bear for her to send him away. His grip tightened on her slender wrist, turning her hand so he could plant a kiss on her palm.
She shivered. From horror? Distaste? Or pleasure?
Raffa forced his eyes open but kept them trained on that small, pale hand, noticing the tint of amber nail polish as her fingers curled over her palm.
His beautiful Lily. He’d feared she might withdraw into her shell again but she was stronger than he gave her credit for. She’d emerged from her cocoon and nothing, not even a lout like him, would drive her back. He was proud of her.
‘Why are you smiling?’
‘Because you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.’
Instantly she tugged her hand. But he was stronger and he’d use any advantage he had, even brute strength.
‘Don’t.’ She sounded choked, not indifferent. ‘You’ve had your fun. Just leave me alone.’ Pain pierced at the hurt in her shadowed eyes and the crooked line of her mouth.
‘You think I’m here for amusement?’ Raffa stared. ‘There’s nothing amusing about my feelings, tesoro.’
‘Don’t talk like that.’ Again she tried to free her hand and failed. ‘I know it was...diverting to have a woman so different.’ Her voice was a rushed whisper. ‘But that’s in the past. You can’t make a fool of me like that again.’
Holding her wrist, he felt her pulse beat a runaway rhythm almost as fast as his own.
‘I know you think you can’t believe me after the way I rejected you.’ He swallowed a knot of guilt and pain at the memory. ‘But one thing you must understand. I was never amused by you. You were never a diversion. You were the most frighteningly real thing to happen to me in as long as I can remember.’
Raffa clasped her hand in both of his. ‘No one else has made me feel the way you do.’
To his despair she shook her head, her mouth a mutinous line. ‘You didn’t feel anything. You turned on me. If you’d really felt anything for me—’
‘Oh, I feel, piccola istrice. See how much.’ He pushed her hand against his chest, spreading her fingers wide over the place where his heart crashed. ‘I feel so much I’m terrified you’ll turn me away without a hearing. Or that after hearing me out you’ll say you’re not interested.’
She blinked, an arrested expression in her eyes. ‘Not interested in what?’
He shook his head. ‘First I need to apologise properly and explain—’
‘Not interested in what?’
This wasn’t going as planned. He’d worked out what he needed to say, how he’d say it, and she was turning it all on its head. Turning him inside out.
‘In me.’
Time stretched out like a bungee cord yanked almost to breaking point.
‘I’ve already had you.’
Raffa couldn’t prevent the grunt of pain her words dragged out. His chance was slipping away and he couldn’t stop it. Panic nudged closer.
‘I’m not talking about sex.’ The way she shot a glance over his shoulder at the café behind him told him his voice had risen but he didn’t care.
‘If you’re not talking about sex, what then?’
He swallowed, his mouth dry with fear. Had he ever, in his life, laid himself so bare? It went against every instinct of self-preservation to put himself in anyone’s power.
‘In me. Body and soul. Heart and mind.’ He felt her shiver and hurried on before she could stop him. ‘I love you, Lily.’
To his horror he saw her eyes well. He reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing dampness from the corner of her eye with his thumb.
‘Don’t cry, Lily. Please.’ It felt as if she’d wrenched his heart out.
‘What do you expect me to do when you say something like that?’
He swiped his thumb over her lush lips, feeling them quiver. ‘I want you to say yes. That you’ll stay with me.’
‘I can’t think when you do that.’
‘Good.’ His heart soared at the news. For once he did the decent thing and pulled back. But he stayed close enough to see how the amber at the centre of her irises glowed as if with an inner fire. Always that had been a sign of Lily’s pleasure, or exc
itement. Or emotion.
‘How can you love me? You acted like you hated me that morning.’
‘And I’ve regretted it ever since. I couldn’t even concentrate on the deal with Bradshaw because I was too busy regretting my behaviour.’
Her forehead crinkled. ‘Then why did you? If you loved me—’
Raffa captured her other hand, holding them both tight. ‘It won’t seem sensible to someone as logical as you, but feeling the way I do—’ he swallowed ‘—loving you, petrified me. I’ve never loved anyone except my sister and mother. With you I feel more. I care about you, Lily. About making you realise how special you are. About your happiness.’
She opened her mouth and he pressed a finger to her warm lips. ‘I trusted you with things I’ve never spoken about to any other person. I felt drawn to you in ways I didn’t understand and it terrified me. I think that’s part of the reason I reacted so violently to the possibility of you betraying me. It was easier to push you away than put myself on the line and ask you to love me back.’ He drew a slow breath, redolent of coffee and sweet pears and warm female flesh.
‘I was frightened you’d reject me.’
Reluctantly he dropped his hand from her mouth. He’d run out of words. Which meant facing her judgement. Desperately he tried to read her thoughts, but Raffaele was stuck on her trembling mouth.
‘How many women have rejected you, Raffaele?’ Her voice was a thick whisper.
Instantly he was defensive. ‘Those women in the past don’t count. They didn’t know or want me. They wanted my money or my body.’ He paused. ‘Except I suppose they do matter. Why would you want a man who—?’
Lily tugged her hand free and pressed her palm to his mouth. ‘Stop right there.’
She smelled so good, like the dreams that had plagued his sleep since she left. He slicked out his tongue, tasting her, and her hand jerked back.
‘I don’t care about the women in your past.’ Was it really possible?
‘Then what do you care about?’ Was that a softening in her expression?
‘Why would you fall in love with me? It’s not sensible.’
‘I think it’s the most sensible thing I’ve done in my life. Fall for a woman who’s generous, beautiful, sexy, honest, and challenges me to be a better man. I’ve even rethought my plan for the resort because of you.’
