‘Gracie.’ He stepped after her.
‘I can’t stay to chat longer. I need to get home before it gets dark. This Red Riding Hood shouldn’t have strayed so far from the path, should she? There’s a wolf in these woods. That’ll teach me for living in my perfect, fairy-tale world.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
RAFE WALKED ALONG the lakefront, looking back at the villa that was currently being decorated by a team of lighting and sound experts. He’d only arranged the stupid party in the first place to have an excuse to see Gracie again. What a fool. He should have called it off and left Italy already.
Except he hadn’t been able to do that to Gracie and Francesca. Gracie had been right when she’d taken him to task the other day. They’d worked too hard, they’d got in the supplies needed. Of course, he could have just paid for it all, but it wasn’t about the money. It was the impression and the connections they could make. He wanted that for them. They deserved it. It was one little thing he could actually give her. Because what she’d said she wanted was impossible.
He was still furious with her for ruining what had been a perfectly suitable arrangement. Everything had been great. He’d been happy. She’d been happy. But it hadn’t been enough for her. Even when he’d warned her. He’d told her right at the start and she’d said she was okay with what he could offer her. She’d lied. Her declaration of love had been a betrayal of that honest arrangement between them. And then her damn dignity?
How was it possible that he’d insulted her—he’d completely rejected her—and yet she still saw what she believed to be the best in him? Her hope, her optimism was unsinkable. He was even more furious with her. What made it worse was that he still wanted her.
‘Mr Vitale.’
‘Alex.’ He turned in surprise. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’
His team had flown in two days ago and taken over the arrangements. He’d holed up in the large study and pretended he wasn’t even in Italy. He hadn’t expected to see any of the Bellezzo residents until the party. He’d wanted it that way.
‘I wanted to ensure everything looked right for tonight,’ Alex explained. ‘I was able to convince your new security to let me in.’ Alex paused. ‘And I wanted to give you something.’
‘Oh?’ Rafe didn’t trust the old man’s bland expression.
‘I’ve been crafting new roses for years. It’s both hobby and career. This perfect bloom is mine.’ He held out the rose.
Rafael had no option but to take it from him.
‘If it suits, I’m going to plant it all along the eastern access pathway.’
‘Of course. I appreciate your skill, Alex.’
‘It’s called Aurora Grace. Aurora was my wife, the most beautiful woman you ever saw.’
‘That’s lovely.’ Rafe tried to walk away because he really didn’t want to hear any more. But Alex walked with him.
‘I chose Grace because the plant is generous to a fault. She has abundant petals and abundant roses. She keeps blooming even when it’s not in her best interests for her own survival, but she just keeps on giving.’
Rafe stopped and stared at the old man in silence. But his glare just bounced off the man.
‘She needs some special care,’ Alex added.
Talk about laying it on thick. But he couldn’t hate the man for it, it was oddly good to know Gracie had someone in her corner. She didn’t deserve to be alone.
‘Then the plant is very lucky to have you to tend it. The whole garden is. I appreciate it.’ Rafe spoke through gritted teeth. ‘You should probably know I’ve decided to sell the villa, it doesn’t fit with the rest of my portfolio, so I’d like you to continue to maintain the roses until the new owner takes control.’
‘Of course.’ Alex’s expression toughened. ‘It’s a pleasure for me to care for it. I don’t consider it hard work. Not work at all.’
Rafe turned his back on the pointed tone. Hard work? Gracie James was the easiest woman in the world for anyone normal to love. She ought to be nestled in the centre of a loving family with all the security that she craved. She needed someone strong to create that for her. She needed a man who could give her everything. Rafe could give her money, travel, jewels but she didn’t want those. She wanted the one thing he couldn’t give. His heart was too shrunken and scarred for her to have. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. She deserved more than what he could offer. So he’d get out of her way.
The problem was, she was there. In the villa, permeating the walls with her gorgeous scent, with her mouth-watering skills—both pastry and personal. She made him want. His assistant had been surprised by his request to use the local bakery for the food. But he’d known she could do it.
* * *
Over eighty guests descended on his peace. Catering staff poured champagne. The DJ from LA sent good beats echoing across the lake. And Gracie James gave every damn guest’s taste buds an orgasm.
He was furious with her for stripping herself back so openly and pushing him into craving something he’d never wanted. He’d never wanted to think about her all the time. He’d never wanted to feel guilty. He’d never wanted to miss her. He’d never wanted to wonder if he’d been wrong.
And now she was there—where he could see her. Smiling as she served her pastries. She was wearing a very simple, discreet black dress. As if she could somehow blend into the background?
He stalked his way through the crowd to talk to her.
‘There aren’t enough serving staff,’ she explained coolly as soon as she saw him.
‘It’s fine,’ he snapped.
But it wasn’t fine. He hated seeing other people looking at her, talking to her. Worse still, asking him who she was. He watched as she went back down the hallway and he saw one of the damn fashion photographers follow her.
When he got to the kitchen, she was putting a final few pastries on a loaded platter and the photographer was leaning on the counter near her and laughing.
‘Only catering staff are allowed in here,’ he said sharply. ‘Not guests.’
The man raised his eyebrows. ‘Sorry, Rafe.’ But the smile he sent Gracie wasn’t apologetic at all.
‘Was that necessary?’ She turned on him once the photographer had left. She looked pale, that ready smile didn’t spring to her lips for him any more. ‘He was only being polite.’
The guy wasn’t being polite. He had been making a play for her.
Rafe soaked up the emotion swirling in her eyes. But he couldn’t figure out what it was. Hurt. Defiance. Anger. Pride? All of that. And now he felt a heel.
She shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have stayed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly.
‘Only because you feel guilty. But you don’t need to feel guilty.’ Her lips curved in a bright, meaningless smile. ‘Get over yourself, Rafe. There’s more to my life than you. So much more. Even here in my sleepy village where I’m buried and wasting my life.’
He grimaced at her echo of his insult. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’ve already said that.’ She lifted the tray and took it to the doorway, meeting one of the waitresses in the hallway before returning. ‘That was the last lot we have, so I’m done. Francesca will get our things in the morning.’
Gracie had made the best damn pastries ever, not for Francesca and the business but purely to spite Rafael. To prove that even though she was hurt, she was not wrecked. Never wrecked. And she’d succeeded. She’d had people coming up to her all night, complimenting her. Francesca had run out of business cards.
But she didn’t feel good. Victory was hollow because she hadn’t won what she’d really wanted. She hadn’t got
him.
He’d never put her first. He’d never admit his need...but maybe her thinking he even did need her was wishful thinking. Maybe he truly didn’t. He already had all these other people running to do his bidding. His life was so far removed from her own simple one. His was high-powered and wealthy and fast.
How could she have thought she’d forged any real kind of emotional connection with him? It had been a couple of weeks. An affair. And in another five minutes he’d forget about her. People always did. They got on with their own lives.
Now he stood silently, watching her wash her hands. She braced to walk away. But she couldn’t resist asking whether what she’d heard was true. ‘You told Alex you’re selling the villa.’
‘It seems a good time now the restoration is complete and it’s had some publicity. I only bought it out of petty spite to stop Leonard and Maurice from getting it.’ He shrugged. ‘Turns out they only wanted a last look at it anyway, so it was all a waste of my time. Joke’s on me.’
Pain whistled through her bones like an arctic gale. She’d hoped Alex had misunderstood.
‘You’re back to that line?’ she said. ‘It wasn’t a place that you wanted too?’ Hadn’t he loved it himself? Hadn’t he made memories there that he wanted to keep? Clearly not. He couldn’t wait to get away.
He didn’t love her. He was only bothered because he thought he’d hurt her and his conscience didn’t like that. And despite the humiliation, it was true, he had hurt her. But what hurt her most of all was the realisation that he was that damaged. That he’d miss out on so much because he couldn’t push past his own ingrained defences. But she couldn’t fix him. He didn’t want to be fixed. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with him. And she was furious with herself for being so damn soft where he was concerned.
‘You and I don’t want the same things,’ he said curtly.
‘You don’t know what you want, and even if you did, you couldn’t admit it,’ she said, and walked out of the back door—the servants’ exit.