by C. C. Gibbs
“Just so you know, Rafie, baby,” Henny drawled, punching Rafe’s arm, his smile the familiar one he had after a shitload of Jägermeister. “Mireille says if I’m killed she’s coming after you.”
“Yeah, well, tell your wife she can take it up with Zou, ’cause if you’re gone, I’ll be gone.”
“Speaking of dying,” Basil interposed, “Claudine and I are talking again, so I’d prefer surviving this shit storm. Let’s think positive. Fill us in on what’s going on now, next, and whatever the hell explodes after that.”
“Come to the house. I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Wanting to keep his distance from Nicole in the west wing, Rafe showed the men into what had been the steward’s office. He ordered drinks, and once they were delivered, shut the double doors, walked over to his friends, who were seated at a table near the windows, and dropped into a chair. “Here’s what we know.” He explained Zou’s seclusion, Gina’s diverted flight to Brisbane, Bao-Yu’s sighting, the surveillance and snipers in Shanghai. He mentioned the various men who’d arrived on the island, those in current deployments or waiting to be assigned, the numbers contributing to the island security. He described the plans for targeting Zou, the teams on surveillance of Zou’s wife and children, his sister, and an elderly mentor who’d retired near Shanghai.
“We’ve cut off most of Zou’s funds,” Rafe pointed out. “Gora found us Zou’s secret bank accounts. Gora’s shutting down some, we’re taking care of others, and thanks to your photos, Basil, Balthus proved amenable.”
“Hugo amenable? Do tell,” Henny drawled. “Hugo with his nuts in a vise.” He kissed his fingertips. “Don’t leave out a single heart-warming detail.”
Rafe smiled. “I definitely wrecked his smug little world. At first though, he was all righteous outrage and bluster, but once he saw the photos, panic and fear hit him like a ton of bricks and he caved.” Rafe raised an eyebrow in Basil’s direction. “How long have you been sitting on those pictures?”
“A few months. I didn’t take them. They arrived anonymously. Hugo has more enemies than just us. With my current film project on bullying well known in the small, incestuous world of documentary film, I was the logical recipient for someone bent on revenge. Who knew the prick was a bully even in the bedroom.”
“Score, score, and score!” Henny crowed. “Did he cry? Tell me he cried.”
“He probably would have, but I was in a hurry. I couldn’t wait. Although I’m guessing Hugo’s performance is gonna be compromised if he tries fucking his little piece his usual way again. He’ll be wondering who’s watching.” Rafe glanced at Basil.
Basil shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I haven’t a clue who set up the cameras. Could be staff he’d pissed off.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Rafe said. “Would you have used Hugo’s pictures?”
“Of course. With some identities obscured.”
“His?”
Basil shrugged again. “Maybe. I doubt he’d sue. I’m glad they were useful to you.”
“Useful, oh yeah. Balthus turned white, sweat broke out on his forehead, he fucking whimpered. It was beautiful.”
“And they say justice is blind,” Henny murmured, raising his glass of Jägermeister.
“Not with photos that damning.” Rafe lifted his whiskey to his circle of friends. “Now some justice for Ganz’s father and we can all go home and tend our gardens.”
A sudden silence fell. Each man understood the extent of the dangers they faced.
“We’ve done it before—survived,” Henny said, his voice quiet now. “We’ll do it again.”
Rafe half smiled. “We’re older and smarter.”
“And fucking bigger,” Basil said with a grin, his tall, lean form whip-cord tough.
“And well armed,” Basile’s cousin Sasha said, his voice velvet soft.
Chapter 15
Mildly bored and feeling the need to touch base with the real world, Nicole called Fiona.
“Still in love?” Fiona answered in a bantering tone. “Or have you come to your senses?”
Nicole sighed. “I’m still confused, if that’s what you’re asking. Who knew love was such a mind fuck? Intense, wonderful, tearful—you get the picture. Add to the mix the fact that I’m beginning to feel like a kept woman. I’m in a grand palace on a private island, lying on a huge bed just waiting around while Rafe works and works and works some more. He says feel free to come and find him whenever I want, but I’m not sure he means it. So I just lie here and wait.”
“Lie there in luxury. Don’t forget that.”
“Like you could forget in a place this size. He lives like Dominic—although even more extravagantly ’cause back home, Dominic and Kate live like anyone else on our street—no servants, just Patty. But Rafe’s lifestyle is completely jet set. We just returned from Geneva. Flew there this morning for a ten-minute meeting he’d scheduled, then back here two hours later. He has planes, pilots, drivers, and staff everywhere; Dominic does too, but everything’s more low-key since he married Kate.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen their house in Cliffside. It’s nice, but definitely not palatial.”
“You should see Rafe’s Monte Carlo and Geneva houses—palatial to the max. We stopped at the one in Geneva today so he could change into a suit to go see some banker. A truly majestic butler like you’d see in the movies greeted him as if he were royalty. Christ, going back to school will be like stepping off some magic cloud into the everyday, nitty-gritty world of takeout and studying all night.”
“Hey, don’t break my bubble yet, okay? We still have a few more weeks of vacation. And speaking of magic clouds,” Fiona said, a smile in her voice, “Jack’s taking me to Paris.”
“Great. You’re still having fun. I’m glad.”
“It’s super, really. Not a complaint in the world. But then I’m not deep in love like you with all the will-he-or-won’t-he angst that’s messing with your head.”
Jarred by Fiona’s deep-in-love comment, or maybe just more doleful and moody in her solitude, Nicole had a sudden, unsettling thought. “Oh, fuck, now I’m wondering how many other women have waited for Rafe on this bed.”
“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?”
Nicole sighed. “No.” Another deeper sigh. “I’m taking this way too seriously, aren’t I?”
“Considering the man and his reputation…” Fiona’s voice trailed off. “Hey, what does your sister Isabelle say about your love problems? She’s always more sensible than you and me.”
“I can’t get hold of her. She’s at one of those meditation retreats where no one talks, there’re no phones, nothing. She and my mother are into yoga and shit like that, so I have to figure this out without my usual voice of reason.” There was a brief moment of silence, then Nicole spoke in a voice that one would use to convince oneself of something unpleasant. “It’s been a while since I was a fourteen-year-old teenybopper swooning over an untouchable celebrity. I’m a relatively intelligent, well-grounded adult now. So fuck it, I might as well be sensible and register while I’m lying around twiddling my thumbs. It’s too late to get any good classes but ask me if I care.”
“If you’re talking chem, you haven’t cared for a while.” Fiona smoothly picked up on the sudden change of topic, thinking, Finally—the Nicole she knew and loved was back.
“Shit. I suppose it’s too late to change my major.”
“Just a fucking little bit. Look, register, make your parents happy. You can still work for Dominic’s friend Yash on the side.”
Nicole groaned. “I don’t think happiness research is going to cut it for me right now.”
“Jesus, babe, is it really true? Love hurts?”
“Like a son of a bitch.” Nicole blew out a breath. “Hey, don’t be stupid like me. Go have fun. I’m just in a blue funk. I’ll get over it. I always do.”
Fiona hesitated, not sure how to respond; she’d never seen Nicole in a funk, blue or otherwise. And she w
as sure as hell waffling. “If Rafe doesn’t come back for a while, call me again. You can whine and I’ll listen. You’ve done it often enough for me.”
“Sure, okay.” Another sigh. “Maybe I’ll just sleep for a while, then register.”
Holy shit. Didn’t sleeping during the day equal depression? Was this like intervention time? “You sure you’re okay?” Although Fiona didn’t know what she’d do if Nicole said no, because Jack had just come into the bedroom, glanced at her unpacked suitcase on the bed, and was giving her a what-the-fuck-have-you-been-doing look.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Nicole exhaled. “I think it’s just that I’m not used to being alone. Like ever. I’m fine, really.”
“Okay, I’ll call you when I get to Paris,” Fiona promised. “Bye.” Dropping her phone on the bed, she felt like the world’s worst friend.
“The plane’s waiting.” Since Fiona was frowning, Jack’s voice was super polite. “We can buy you what you need in Paris if you don’t feel like packing.”
“Nicole’s in love,” Fiona said, more tersely than she intended.
Jack took a small breath. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s it. Sorry?” Anger flashed in her eyes.
“I wish I could help you out,” he said kindly. “But it happens all the time. Women like Rafe.”
“Like or love?”
She was sitting up straight now, staring at him. “Both,” Jack said, figuring there was no point in lying about Rafe’s lifestyle. It wasn’t a mystery. “Actually, Rafe inspires all kinds of feelings—love, lust, like, and everything in between. Since he doesn’t give out his e-mail or phone number, he keeps the postal service in business. He gets love notes, invitations to intimate dinners, invites to exclusive orgies, and pick-your-pleasure opportunities of every kind. You name it, he’s offered it. Rafe’s good with women.”
“Like a lion tamer or horse whisperer.” Each word was softly astringent.
Jack put up his hands. “Don’t get pissed at me. I have no control over his life. No one does. No one ever has. His father tried his damnedest and failed. Rafe’s a law unto himself. That’s it. That’s the way it’s always been. If it helps, Nicole has touched him more than any other woman—ever. He’s altered his life for her, made adjustments those of us who know him well wouldn’t have thought possible; he’s shown real affection. I’m not saying it’s permanent or even significant. I’m just saying it hasn’t happened before.”
“Nicole’s really unhappy.”
Jack raked his fingers through his sun-streaked hair, then dropped his hands. “I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” Fiona took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just feeling sorry for her.”
“Rafe’s made some major changes for Nicole. That’s a simple fact.” Jack shifted restlessly; defending his cousin’s sense of commitment was dangerous.
“Thanks for the explanation. Whatever I think really doesn’t matter anyway.” With a nod, she rolled off the bed. “I can pack in five minutes.” She smiled. “You wearing that?” He had on shorts, no shirt, his feet were bare.
“I’ll put on a shirt. It’s just us on the plane—and a steward or two. Wear whatever you like.” He grinned. “Or nothing at all.”
“I’ll need a few more drinks before I consider public nudity, although cultural mores are definitely more casual down here.” Nude beaches were common on the island.
“It’s summer.” Jack smiled. “What can I say? La dolce vita.”
Chapter 16
Nicole finally registered for fall semester and, striking the last key to exit the program, felt a surge of unfettered freedom. It felt good—not depending on someone else to make her happy, to give her life meaning, to bring her pleasure.
Or kinda good.
She wasn’t naïve about her happiness fading fast once Rafe disappeared from her life. But she’d taken that obligatory first step and enrolled in graduate school; classes started next month and regardless of how events transpired on the island, her life was on track. The fact that Rafe’s attention span when it came to women was reputedly nonexistent, the additional fact that waves of security men arriving daily spoke of coming perils had been powerful impetus.
Not to mention Fiona’s blunt advice. Bask in carpe diem bliss while you can, but plan for tomorrow. Because Rafe Contini didn’t do permanent.
Nicole may have worried about sleeping in the daytime¸ but Rafe just smiled when he walked into his bedroom and found her fast asleep at five o’clock. He’d been keeping Nicole awake at night too much—or she him. His smile widened. She was a greedy, impetuous little puss and his…the possessive pronoun no longer coming with a warning but flavored with happiness.
Although his smile vanished the instant he saw her fall schedule on the bedside table. His lips clamped together in a grim line. Bloody hell. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he reminded himself; it wasn’t unexpected. Still, Nicole was a miracle he didn’t feel like giving up just yet. If he hadn’t been dealing with Ganz’s war, he might have asked her to stay. Might the great unknown. Along with so much of what he felt with Nicole, his emotions were unfamiliar, mystifying. And whether the brilliant, high-colored sensations were lust or something more permanent was uncertain.
What was certain, however, was the heated resentment he felt seeing Nicole’s fall schedule finalized. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh Christ, had he spoken aloud? He was staring into Nicole’s heavy-lidded gaze.
“Hey. You’re back.”
Her voice was soft with sleep, her cheeks flushed, the blue of her eyes touched with such tenderness, he felt a flash of pure joy light up his brain. “Sorry I woke you,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”
She pushed up on her elbows and shot him a warm, crinkly smile. “Not when you’re here.”
“Then tell me something.” A sharp glance as he picked up the registration sheet and gave it a flick. “You leaving me?”
“No, not for a while. But I had to register before it was too late.”
“You could go to the University of Geneva.” His gaze was quietly intense. “I’m on the board. I could get you in anytime.” She didn’t answer for so long, he tossed the schedule on the nightstand. “Never mind,” he said gruffly.
Sitting up, she brushed her hair out of her eyes, then smoothed her Wonder Woman T-shirt over her hips because there was a slow burn in Rafe’s eyes and covering her nakedness seemed like a good idea. “Look, in a perfect world I’d like to go to school in Geneva. It would be grand. But I’m guessing it’s not a perfect world for you right now.” She moved over to make room for him and patted the bed. “Come closer. Tell me if I’m wrong.”
“Don’t be reasonable,” he grumbled, sitting beside her and pulling her into his arms. “I prefer illusion.” Resting his chin on her head, he sighed. “When does school start?”
“First week in September.”
Rafe did a quick count of the days, measured them against all the moving parts in the dangerous game he was playing, and allowed himself a sliver of hope. If Webster came through quickly in Brisbane, if Zou could be coaxed out of his hermitage to go join his mistress, if the snipers performed—a lot of ifs, but a good outcome wasn’t impossible. “Don’t be surprised if I show up in New York to walk you to class.”
She flung her arms around his neck. “Really?” She looked up at him, her eyes alight with hope. “You mean it? For real?”
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “If I can fucking make things happen.”
She stretched up and kissed his chin. “Thanks for even trying.” Easing back down, she drew in a small breath, opened her mouth, shut it again, then put her finger over his lips and said, “Just listen. Don’t say anything until I’m done.”
He felt his heart rate spike; those were not words a man cared to hear.
As if she knew, she moved her hand to his heart, looked up, and grinned. “Relax. You’re not required to do anything. Consider this a monolog
ue, okay?”
None of her comments were likely to relax him. They sounded like a preface to a conversation that did require him to do something. But he politely nodded, smiled, and eased back only slightly.
She noticed though, and figured now or never, don’t wuss out. “Okay, I just want to say this isn’t your problem, it’s mine. Oh, hell,” she added and her cheeks turned cherry red. “Give me a second.”
He almost said Am I going to need an attorney? but figured there was time enough once she was finished talking.
Then she straightened, took a deep breath, looked him squarely in the eye, and spoke in a rush of words. “I’m pretty sure I love you. No, I’m sure, I’m really sure. Jesus, don’t panic,” she added, uncertain whether it was shock or impatience, or he was just shutting down behind that golden stare. “You don’t have to do anything. I already told you that. I just wanted you to know. That’s it.” Her smile was easy now, as though she was feeling a whoosh of relief after laying all her cards on the table. “You’re surprised. I understand.”
You wouldn’t understand in a million fucking years, he thought. But she was starting to say something again so he chose a polite silence in lieu of risking a response.
“I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to anyone before, well—except to family, and that’s not the same. I never even knew what my girlfriends were talking about when they’d go on and on about how great love was, how amazing and fantastic, how kick-ass wonderful. How loving someone made them all trembly and weak in the knees, and”—she stopped, held his amber gaze. “Maybe you should say something so I know you’re still alive.”
He drew in a small breath, gazed at her, watchful, flipping a coin; should he feel threatened or appreciative? “How did you know?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Just did.”
“Explain,” he said, still mostly unsettled, maybe wary too. The life he lived, the women he knew; he had reason.
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out a few things too.”