“Everything okay?” Hope asked.
“Sorry. Family concerns.” He sighed. “Celeste discovered that Lillibet may not be who she says she is.”
“What does that mean?”
“Before she applied at his club, she didn’t exist.”
“How can that be?” She scowled.
“That’s the question.”
“I’m so sorry. This can’t be easy.”
He appreciated having someone to discuss private matters with. He kissed her with appreciation. No matter how heavy his burdens, she lightened them. Rafe might not deserve someone as innocent as Hope, but he sure as hell appreciated her.
Hand in hand, they returned to the golf cart.
“Now I’m glad you brought it,” she admitted when he was covering the distance back to the cottage.
“The grounds are vast,” he agreed. For a moment, he considered skipping breakfast and showing her what she meant to him. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.”
In which case, sex would have to wait. After this morning’s meeting, they could spend the afternoon playing together. He’d brought clamps, and he couldn’t wait to see them compressing her perfect little nipples.
They changed clothing, Hope into a short dress, and he selected a shirt and tie with a lightweight blazer.
Once they reached the Grand House, the maître d’ seated them at a table near the window.
After they ordered and had settled back with iced coffee, Rafe regarded her. “You got out of bed last night.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You don’t make many moves without me being aware of them. I feel you, Hope. I want to know everything you’re thinking. I considered joining you. But it looked like a party for one.”
“Thank you. I needed some time to”—she paused—“sort through some things.”
“Ready to talk about it?”
She picked up her long spoon and stirred her drink, although she’d already done that once. “I’m not sure it’s anything worth sharing.” She allowed the beverage to drain from the spoon before moving it to the napkin.
“Concerns about BDSM?”
Hope glanced around the room, at anything but him.
“No.” She toyed with her napkin, revealing nothing else.
“What our marriage might be like?”
“About love.”
The waiter returned with a basket filled with small pastries and rolls, and Rafe took a moment to be grateful for the interruption. “About love?” he prompted.
“What if that were important to me?”
“Affection will develop out of compatibility, sex—”
“I’m not talking about affection.” She waved her hand, forestalling anything else he had to say. “I mean deep and abiding emotion that clobbers anything else. Something that would survive without sex. The fuel that becomes commitment, because you can’t imagine living your life without that person.”
Hope’s question took him aback. They’d discussed his Three C’s on numerous occasions. He looked forward to seeing her and fantasized about introducing her into deeper elements of BDSM. He’d shown much more emotion with her than he had with any other woman. To him, that was the basis of their relationship, a much stronger foundation than mercurial whims of an untrustworthy heart. Seeing the intent way she scrutinized him, he proceeded with care. “I prefer to put my trust in commitment, things that are more tangible.” Damn. A sheen of tears covered her eyes. The exact emotion he didn’t want, and he’d thought she didn’t want it either. He’d fucked up this conversation, and he didn’t know how to undo it. He couldn’t make wild protestations of undying love, nor did he want to upset her. Instead, he settled for, “Does that matter to you?”
“It does.”
“So you’re saying…?”
“I won’t get married without love.”
The same blinding emotion that had gotten his father into the fucking mess with Lillibet? The disastrous feelings that had led to his sister’s two divorces? “Hope.” Rafe drew a breath, stalling for time while he figured out what the hell to say. He hadn’t offered love, wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He was convinced they could have a successful relationship without it. “We need to talk about this when we’re alone.”
She shook her head, and one of those wrenching tears escaped the corner of her eye. “Unlike everything else in your life, this isn’t negotiable.”
He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. Obviously to compose herself, she used her napkin to dab her face before extracting a tube of lipstick from her kitty bag. She repainted the color, focusing on the tiny mirror on the end of the case. “There’s Celeste!”
For once, Rafe considered Celeste’s timing terrible. Any chance that she would offer a small greeting and then be on her way was dashed when Hope stood to hug Celeste. Hope smiled her gratitude at the reprieve while he seethed, pissed at the interruption.
“Would you like to join us?” Hope invited, desperation punctuating her words.
“Thank you. Yes.” Celeste ignored the polite tip of the head, indicating he didn’t want the company.
After they were all seated, their server hurried over with a menu and to inquire if Celeste would like coffee.
“English breakfast tea,” Celeste replied. “Twinings.”
The server refreshed their coffee, then brought her a porcelain teapot with matching cup and saucer.
Celeste asked Hope about her stay and what she thought of the Parthenon.
Around him, the conversation continued. Some time later, he blinked, aware of both women staring at him. Obviously, one of them had been speaking to him, and he hadn’t been aware of it. “My apologies.” He shook his head to clear it. “Where were we?”
“Talking about the holiday extravaganza,” Celeste said.
“It’s April,” he protested. He hadn’t recovered from the trauma of last Christmas, when his dad hadn’t shown up, and neither had his sister’s husband. Arianna had spent the day in tears. His mother had been stoic. The entire day had been bleak and gray. Fittingly, it had even rained. In the end, he’d gone to work.
“I was suggesting it would be an excellent place for Hope to network,” Celeste said.
Noah walked into the room and Rafe scowled. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Celeste splashed milk into her tea before saying, “That’s why I stopped—to let you know the judge had no choice but to also allow Noah’s attendance. I’m afraid your father’s lack of communication has made things difficult.” She took a delicate sip. “The sooner you’re married, the faster this can be sorted out.”
Her words were like a rock dropped into a still pond.
Celeste pushed back her chair and excused herself, but neither Rafe nor Hope said anything. Hope’s face had drained of color and tension crawled through Rafe’s shoulders. When they were alone, he began, “Listen, Hope—”
“Morning, Rafe.”
He bit back a curse when Noah approached, wearing a smug smile.
“I haven’t seen Uncle Theodore, and I arrived last night. No one here reports having seen him either.”
Rather than answering, Rafe countered. “I don’t believe you’ve met Hope Malloy?”
Noah smiled in her direction. “Charmed.” He offered his hand.
Having no option that wouldn’t be rude, Hope accepted. Noah raised her hand and gave it an old-world kiss. Fury, seething and white-hot, ripped through Rafe.
Hope extracted her hand. “Rafe, will you pass the breadbasket, please?” she asked. “There’s a croissant in there, I’m sure.”
He admired her poise as well as the way she’d read him and the situation. “If you’ll excuse us?” Rafe said. “My omelet is getting cold.”
Noah slunk off, and Rafe raised his coffee cup in her direction. “Bravo, Ms. Malloy. You’re a master at the social cut.”
“It was either that or watch you rip out his jugular.”
A
fter breakfast, he said, “I haven’t forgotten that we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing much to say.” She exhaled a deep, shaky breath. “Depending on what time you finish up, I’d like to go home today.”
Fuck. Why were things so out of control? “I’m sure it will be late.”
“That’s fine.”
“Give me some time,” he pleaded. “Give us some time.”
“So I can fall deeper?” She shook her head.
Fury and desperation were a cauldron in his gut. “This is sounding like a goddamn ultimatum.”
“Call it anything you want.” Hope wadded her napkin, then pushed back her chair. Without another word, she left.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Goddamn it.
Rafe surreptitiously extracted the vibrating phone from his pocket. His father’s name filled the screen. After days of the man not answering his phone, he’d called three times in the past fifteen minutes.
“Problem, Rafe?” Noah asked, interrupting something Celeste was saying.
The Titans gathered around the conference table studied Rafe.
“I apologize.” He gave a half smile. “I need to take this call.”
“Something more important than the Zetas?” Noah asked.
Ignoring his cousin, Rafe nodded toward Judge Anderson. “Excuse me, please.”
By the time Rafe was in the hallway, the phone had stopped ringing. He continued to a private alcove to return the call.
His father’s voice was frantic, and Rafe couldn’t make out the words.
“Gone.”
He shook his head. “Slow down, Dad.”
“Lillibet is gone.”
Rafe exhaled. This was why he didn’t do love. “She left you?”
“No. She’s…gone.”
“Can this wait? I’m at the Zeta meeting.” Where you should be.
“Are you listening to me? She’s vanished. I can’t get hold of Celeste. Something has happened to her.”
Rafe dragged a hand through his hair.
“I need you here.”
Which would leave Noah as the Sterling representative.
“I’m”—Theodore’s voice cracked—“losing my mind, Rafe.”
Having no other option, he said, “I’ll be there in a few hours.” By the time he hung up, his father was sobbing.
He returned to the meeting room and signaled to Celeste, who joined him in the hallway. After he explained the situation, she said, “You can take my plane if you’d like to leave yours for Hope. And I’ll make a team available for you, if you’d like it.”
“Yeah.” He raked a hand into his hair. “Thanks.”
“We will need more than the fifty thousand.”
Of course.
After breakfast, he’d taken Hope back to the cottage and left the golf cart there in case she wanted to go to the spa, so he asked a valet for a ride back. When he arrived, Hope was in the living room, purse clutched in her hands. Her luggage was packed, waiting near the door.
Breath whooshed from his lungs.
“You’re leaving?”
“I thought you were the bellman. The concierge arranged a ride for me to the airport.” Her eyes were swollen, but her chin was set in a resolved line.
His whole life, he’d been in control, and now everything sifted through his grip. He couldn’t draw a deep breath. “Without telling me?”
“There’s nothing more to discuss.”
He strode toward her, only to have her take a step back. He froze. “Fuck. Hope?”
“We shouldn’t have gotten involved. I knew that. This was a mistake from the very beginning. It ends now.”
She deserved his full attention. They needed time, and that was the one luxury he didn’t have. “Hope…” He yanked the knot from his tie. “I need to go to Florida.”
“So? Go. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“You’re my lover, for Christ’s sake. You matter.”
“Do I?”
Her words hung, doubting, challenging. “It’s my dad…” He needed her to understand. “Lillibet is missing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Damn her and her chilled, distant words. Rafe hadn’t realized how much he was counting on her feedback to sort through the mess that was his family. “I should be back tomorrow. Let’s have dinner. We can sort through this.”
She shook her head. Destroying him, a tear fell from the corner of her eye. His gaze was riveted on the emotional path it traveled. “If you want another mixer, you can contact Skyler.”
“Fuck that, Hope,” he snapped. “Stop it.”
She took another step away.
What the hell was happening between them? Last night had been perfect. And now…?
A knock on the door shattered the tense silence. “Bell service, Ms. Malloy!”
Rafe snarled, then shouted, “Go away!”
She walked around him to open the door.
“Don’t. Don’t do this.”
Instead of responding, she informed the man which bags belonged to her. She followed him out to the golf cart and left without a backward glance.
Rafe picked up a vase filled with beautiful fresh flowers and threw it against the wall, shattering it and his heart into a million shards.
“Rafe?”
Exhausted, he glanced over at Travers, one of Celeste’s most trusted operatives. Rafe had met the man a couple of times, and each time he’d been dressed the same. Black T-shirt, pants, shoes, jacket, glasses. His stealth was legendary, and until he’d made his presence known, Rafe hadn’t even known Travers had boarded the Lunar Sea. According to Celeste, he’d come by dinghy in order to surveil the harbor.
Hoping Travers had found something, anything, Rafe excused himself from his father. In the past ten hours, Rafe had learned little. This morning, Theodore had played a round of golf. Rather than be bored with a bunch of men, Lillibet preferred to stay aboard the boat, sunbathing and drinking champagne.
When his father had returned, Lillibet couldn’t be found. That wasn’t all that unusual. She could have gone to the marina or a nearby restaurant, or even be visiting another boat. He’d called her cell phone and received no answer. He’d strolled to the marina and asked around, but no one had reported seeing her. Nor had any of their friends. When he’d returned to the boat, he’d observed that a couple of her drawers were ajar. A cursory search revealed that her clothing was there, but her jewelry was missing. Then he’d discovered that his money was gone. Convinced that something horrible had happened to her, he’d contacted Celeste, then Rafe.
Given what they knew about Lillibet not being who she appeared to be, Rafe was willing to bet she had absconded with the goods herself. Compassion had stopped him from saying so to his dad. For the first time, Rafe understood how caring about a woman could screw with a man’s brain.
The entire trip here, he’d been haunted by Hope’s tears and coldness when she’d left the cottage. He’d called her a couple of times, but she hadn’t answered, frustrating the fuck out of him.
With a sigh, he focused on Travers. “What’s up?”
“You might want to have a look at this.” He shone a bright light on the starboard teak railing.
A perfect Z was carved into the wood. He glanced up. “The hell?”
Travers turned off the flashlight and moved away, leaving Rafe’s thoughts tumbling. A minute later, he returned to the area where his father was sitting across from Gabriella Vaughn, another of Celeste’s operatives. Sleek and smart, she had proven her talents in the depths of the Middle East, working with a Special Forces team to help earn the trust of Iraqi women. Though her abilities to be empathetic and sincere were vast, they were backed up by lethal resolve. There were situations, Celeste believed, where women were much more effective than men, and Gabriella was one of Fallon’s secret weapons.
“Your father was telling me about the first night he took Lillibet out,” Gabriella said.
The first of ma
ny nights that he cheated on my mother? He plucked the glass of whiskey from Theodore’s trembling hand, then dumped the contents over the side.
“I need that.”
“You need your fucking head straight,” he countered. It was possible that Lillibet had duped Theodore. But the appearance of the Zeta symbol complicated matters. “Let’s go through this again.”
“Jesus, Rafe.”
“You got up at…what time?”
“I don’t know. Nineish, ten. Like usual.” His father repeated the events in the order he’d told them before.
“What does she know about the Society?”
Gabriella leveled her sharp gaze at Rafe.
“The Zetas?” Theodore pulled his head back. “Why would she know anything about the Zetas?”
“You never discussed it?”
“Damn, boy. You know I want nothing to do with my old life.”
“Come with me.” Rafe led the way to the rail where the symbol had been carved.
“Who the hell did that?” Theodore demanded. “Did those motherfuckers do something to my Lillibet?” He balled his fists at his sides.
“Dad, listen—”
“I’ll kill someone.”
“Can you say for certain it wasn’t here yesterday? Last week?”
“I don’t inspect every bit of the boat every day. But I’d have noticed that.”
“You may want to sit down again.” Rafe sent a message to Celeste before joining his father.
Theodore snatched up the bottle of whiskey and drank straight from it.
Threading his hand into his hair from frustration, Rafe went through what little he knew about Lillibet not being who she said she was.
“I don’t understand.” His father’s face fell, and Rafe felt as if he’d announced there was no fucking Santa Claus.
“It appears you were set up,” Rafe said, hard and flat. The goddamn problem was, he didn’t know by whom or why. Had Lillibet been working with someone from the Zetas? Or had a Zeta known who she was and made sure she wouldn’t become a problem?
With the story spinning circles in his head, he returned to Travers. “Anything?”
“No. Ms. Fallon is on her way. For now, she’s advised against contacting the police.”
Billionaire's Matchmaker (Titans) Page 24
