Modern Romance January Books 5-8. Heidi Rice
horrendous half-brother Leonard had so maliciously shown him. ‘Valentina Vitale—not her real name obviously.’ He smiled in reminiscence. ‘She made it up to sound more Italian. She actually was Italian, on her mother’s side, but Valentina Vitale sounded more glamorous. As does Rafael Vitale.’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘I was her angel baby after all.’ She had loved him. She and the old man had doted on him when he’d been small. He had few memories of that time, but the ones he had were good.
‘And so you’ve kept your name, not your father’s.’
‘They wouldn’t let me have it until after he died and then they tried to force me to change it. But I am who I am and I was hers,’ he said roughly. ‘My name was what she gave me. I’ll never hide or change that.’ He would never let her be forgotten.
‘I changed my name so many times and I hated it.’
‘Yeah.’ Identity mattered. He put his hand over hers. ‘Don’t you hate your parents for what happened?’
She looked over the water. ‘They both thought they wanted the best for me, but they were so busy fighting they forgot what I really needed. Just a home, Rafe. That’s all. Security. Instead, I became the bone between them. And I still can’t win. I still can’t choose. So I visit them each at least once each year and otherwise just stay here. But I don’t hate them, I get it. They love me in their way.’
‘You’re determined to be positive about it?’
‘Well, why would I want to be miserable?’ She turned back to the water.
‘Because what happened was miserable,’ he said simply. ‘Because you were isolated and without roots for years and it’s okay to feel rotten about it sometimes. And, yes, you’ve chosen your new home town and it’s lovely but not everything is perfect all of the time. Like tonight. You felt lonely and to bury it you went back to work.’
‘Well, wasn’t that better than sitting alone and moping?’
But she hadn’t needed to sit home alone. She could have come to him. And it still hurt that she hadn’t.
Beneath his, her hand tightened on the wheel. ‘Let’s see how fast we can get this girl to go, shall we?’
She was the one distracting and deflecting this time, but he decided to let her. Because he was exposed too. He never had told anyone else what had happened to his mother.
‘You’re a secret speed freak,’ he said with a smile.
‘Not so secret,’ she purred, and pushed the boat’s motor until the wind whipped her hair from its braid and her own smile was wide and her eyes sparkled.
‘You want a turn?’ She turned to him after a while.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to give up the steering wheel.’
‘Well, it is a wrench,’ she acknowledged archly, lifting her hand from the wheel. ‘Promise me you won’t crash it.’
‘Have a little faith.’
‘But you’re a novice, right?’
Not completely, but he was enjoying the joke. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m going to be useless,’ he answered in mock outrage. ‘You weren’t useless when you were a novice.’
‘Because I’m a quick learner.’ She smiled smugly.
‘And you don’t think I can be?’
‘You don’t need to be. You already have everything just the way you want it. Your game is all figured out.’
He didn’t reply. Only a few days ago he’d have agreed with her completely. But his confidence in his choices now was oddly diminished. The only thing he was sure about at the moment was that he wanted to take her back to the villa. He steadily chugged the boat across the water. After a few minutes he glanced behind him to where she’d curled up on the plush seat and caught her covering a yawn.
‘We’re nearly there,’ he said.
‘It’s truly spectacular,’ she said with sleepy softness. ‘Do you pinch yourself when you remember it’s yours?’
He smiled.
‘Oh, no, that’s right, you own so many amazing properties—not homes—you must get blasé about them all.’
He didn’t stop to think about them much. They were places to sleep. But there was something about this one—the classical beauty of it perhaps, with that perfect symmetrical architecture.
No. It wasn’t the architecture. Something else tugged deep in his chest when he looked at that villa and it wasn’t the childhood memories of his father’s stories—those were old feel-good fantasies. This was present-day laughter, warmth, life. This was all Gracie.
He cruised into the narrow channel that led to the boat shed. He turned the engine off and secured the boat in her berth. Then he turned to Gracie. She lay curled in a ball, her head resting on the cushion, her eyes closed. His skin chilled. Only now did he note the shadows beneath her eyes, the pallor of her skin and that droop to her mouth again—it wasn’t just sadness.
‘You’re exhausted,’ he growled, and scooped her into his arms, suppressing that caveman satisfaction that flickered every time he held her like this.
‘What?’ Her eyes flashed open and she turned on a smile. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be out here just to please me, Gracie. That’s not how things are for us.’
‘I’m having a nice time.’ She even put her arms around his neck as if to prove it.
And okay he knew it was true, but it wasn’t all the truth. ‘But you’re also really tired. Put your own needs first for once, Gracie.’ He frowned. ‘Did you lie to me about the dinner with Alex? Did you want to stay home alone just to get a good night’s sleep?’
‘No, I wouldn’t lie about that.’ She jerked her head in a tiny motion. But then a flicker of guilt flashed across her beautiful features. ‘But, okay, you’re right. I was going to have an early dinner with Alex and I was sad when I saw him with his son. And, yes, the late nights with you are taking a toll. I want to stay so much,’ she added hurriedly in that babbling way she had when she was anxious. ‘But I’m usually a lark and go to bed super early and I was going to have an early night tonight.’
But she could have had an early night here with him—all she’d had to do was talk to him and say how she was feeling. But she hadn’t. Why? Was she worried about his reaction? Did she think she had to please him all the time?
Guilt struck him like a stone thrown from behind. He was a selfish jerk. He hadn’t thought at all about the impact their hedonism might have on her—especially when she worked on her feet all day. He carried her up to his bed. She muttered something unintelligible as he lowered her to the mattress, but he suppressed the desire to waken her fully and please her the way he ached to. She needed rest more than she needed passion. He quickly stripped and got into bed to cuddle her gently. In moments she was fast asleep. His very own Sleeping Beauty once again.
He chose not to wake her during the night, despite the fact he couldn’t sleep for the burning desire low in his belly. Instead, he watched her sleeping, curved against him, her skin creamy and pale in the moonlight, a light flush on those pretty cheeks from the warm evening. She worked so hard and was so loyal, doing nice things for everyone in her life. She deserved something nice in return.
The answer arrived in the smallest of hours. What she needed was a few days off. An actual, real holiday. She was always doing everything for everyone else. Perhaps that was one thing he could give to her.