by Jennie Lucas
She could no longer deny her feelings.
Xerxes had seen her at her worst. And he’d accepted her, just as she was. Perhaps because he accepted himself. He knew he wasn’t perfect, so she didn’t need to be, either. They could both have faults, but still be…friends.
Friends?
Friendship did not describe the longing of her heart.
But what she felt could only bring pain. Even if Xerxes cared about her, he would still trade her for Laetitia. In a heartbeat.
“My feelings for Laetitia are more familial in nature,” he’d said. Could she be his cousin? His niece? The daughter of an old friend? Who? Rose wished she knew.
But one thing she did know for sure: Xerxes Novros always kept his promises. And in spite of his best warnings, when she’d given him her body, she’d also given him her heart.
Outside, the sunshine was brilliant and bright, and the morning birds sang sweetly in the blue sky. And Rose silently wept in his arms as he slept.
She was in love with Xerxes. And she knew there was only one way it could end. With her own broken heart.
Xerxes was awakened from a very pleasant dream by a persistent buzzing and rattling sound against the hard tile floor. Blearily, he opened his eyes and saw his cell phone vibrating in his shorts pocket next to the bed. He glanced at Rose, hoping it hadn’t woken her. It hadn’t. A smile traced his lips at how peacefully she slept, his kittenish beauty.
Careful not to jostle her—they’d gotten so little sleep, it would be cruel to wake her for anything but sex—he climbed out of bed and carried the phone outside the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. “Novros.”
“This time we’ve found her, boss,” his chief bodyguard said tersely. “Montez is sure.”
Ten minutes later, Xerxes was shaved, showered and dressed. He returned to the bedroom filled with nervous energy. His hand reached out to shake Rose’s shoulder and awaken her, then he paused, looking down at her.
He could still hardly believe she’d been a virgin before yesterday. And that she’d deliberately chosen him, of all men on earth, to be her first lover. He shivered, remembering all the times they’d made love in the last twenty-four hours. He should have been satiated, but looking at her now, he very nearly forgot his mission and climbed back into bed.
Then he stopped himself. No. He had a lead on Laetitia and couldn’t blow it. He had to focus. If he could find Laetitia, he could save her.
And then he could keep Rose for himself.
If he could really be that selfish to keep her, knowing she would be better off with a better man, instead of with a ruthless, heartless bastard like him.
Xerxes looked down at her, and his whole body hardened. Yes, he thought grimly. He could be that selfish. At this moment, he would kill any man who tried to take her away from him.
Reaching out, he lightly shook Rose’s shoulder. “Wake up,” he said in a low voice. “We need to go.”
“Go?” She yawned, stretching her body across the bed, from her hands to her toes. “Go where?”
The sheet had fallen from her body, leaving her upper body bare. His back broke out in a hot sweat at the sight of those lusciously full breasts, the pink tips that he’d suckled just hours before, cupping them in his hands as he…Xerxes shuddered.
Forcefully, he made himself look away from her, before he forgot such minor details like promises and honor and jumped into bed with her for another twenty-four hours. Clenching his hands into fists, he forced himself not to touch her, to have some self-control. “Mexico.”
“Mexico?” She sounded bewildered. “Why? Do you have business there?”
He cleared his throat, unwilling to explain. “In a manner of speaking. Get dressed. My assistant is already packing your bikinis. And the rest of your wardrobe.”
“What wardrobe?” she demanded. “I only have bikinis thanks to you!”
“I might have sent away for more clothes.”
“When was that?”
“A few hours after we arrived.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her furious voice ended with a squeak that made him grin. He almost turned to look at her, then stopped himself just in time before he got another image of her sprawled naked across the bed. Christ, he only had so much willpower—he was only a man! He hurried toward the door. “The suitcase is still packed beneath the bed. We leave in ten minutes.”
But once again, his foolish hopes of finding Laetitia proved destined for failure. As soon as their jet arrived in Cabo San Lucas, he dropped Rose off without explanation at a luxury gated villa in the hills. He drove with bodyguards in an open Jeep, going north on a dirt road to the little desert village in Baja California.
At a shabby little casita, he knocked on the door. Xerxes heard a woman’s low moan inside, and adrenaline ripped through his body. Shouting Laetitia’s name, he kicked open the door.
He found a woman lying on a small bed, a brunette Laetitia’s size with bandages on her face. For a moment, he’d believed that after all these months, he’d finally found her.
Then he’d heard the language the woman was shouting. German? It turned out she was a wealthy businesswoman from Berlin who’d come to recover from her face-lift in privacy and seclusion. Xerxes had only convinced her not to call the police through substantial cash compensation.
Cash that would come out of his payment to Montez, Xerxes thought, gritting his teeth, for feeding his chief bodyguard such faulty information.
But in his heart Xerxes did not blame the investigator. He blamed only himself. He was the one who’d failed Laetitia, again and again over the past year. And she was still out there somewhere. Dying. Alone.
They drove back to Cabo San Lucas in silence. Entering the villa, Xerxes felt hollowed out. He walked through the heavily embellished oak door with his shoulders hunched. Wearily, he pushed open the door, and the hinges squealed like nails on a chalkboard, the harsh noise scraping his soul.
Then at that moment, he heard a miracle that soothed the pain in his heart. Rose’s sweet, clear voice.
“I’m so glad you’re home!”
Slowly, he looked up.
Rose stood in front of the wide sunlit veranda overlooking the Pacific, looking fresh and pretty in a new sleeveless pink dress, her blond hair tumbling down her shoulders. He exhaled. Everything good in the world seemed wrapped up in her.
She saw his bleak expression and her turquoise eyes widened. She didn’t ask any questions. She just held out her arms.
Without a word, he went to her. He nearly choked out a sob when he felt her soft arms go around him, but he held it inside. A man didn’t cry. He’d learned that long ago. But there were other things a man could do.
He led her through the villa, with its soaring ceiling and colonial-style architecture. He turned on the shower, and the hot steam filled the room. Without a word, he turned to Rose and slowly unbuttoned her dress.
She did not resist. She stood before him, watching him with her heart on her expressive face. He pulled off her clothes, dropping her dress, her bra, her panties to the clay tile floor. He pulled off his own clothes. Taking her hand, he pulled her into the enormous shower.
The hot water burned him, washing off the dust and grime and sorrow. He looked down at Rose. Her petite, curvaceous body was naked, her lustrous skin pink with the heat of the steam. Tilting her head back with his hands, he washed her hair.
She submitted without a word, without complaint, without demands. Her silent sympathy healed his wounded soul as nothing else ever had. As nothing could.
Turning her around, he held her against the glass wall of the shower and lowered his mouth to hers in a hard, demanding kiss. When she returned his embrace, he did not wait. He lifted her legs around his waist. Without warning or permission, he took her as his own, thrusting inside her, holding her against the shower wall. He exploded as steam and hot water poured over them both.
Afterward, he took her to the bed and made love to her again, this tim
e with tenderness, bringing her to gasping fulfillment that made her weep tears of joy. Who was this woman? He thought as he held her to his chest. Who was this woman who could offer him her sympathy, her body, her heart—without making any demands of her own?
He should have known it wouldn’t last.
Later that night, as they were served dinner by the rented villa’s housekeeper, Rose suddenly looked up at him in the candlelight. The two of them were sitting together at the end of a long table, in front of the wall of windows with a view of the moonlit Pacific and the Gulf of Cortez. He could see an old fishing boat with hanging lights, and in the distance was an enormous cruise ship. Mariachi music from the resort town below drifted up the hillside through the open windows.
Rose took a bracing gulp of a lime margarita, then leaned forward over the table. The candlelight cast shadows on her face, giving her the beautiful, concerned expression of a Renaissance Madonna as she asked quietly, “Why have we been traveling so much? Has Lars called the police? Has he been chasing us?”
Xerxes snorted. “Växborg would never call the police. That would just reveal his own crimes. He’s still in Las Vegas, settling the divorce.”
“Then why?” She pressed her lips together. “It must be your business making such demands,” she said softly. She shook her head. “It must exhaust you.”
He wanted to explain to her that it wasn’t his business, just his failure to find Laetitia that kept them constantly on the move; but the words choked in his throat. He couldn’t bear Rose’s sympathy now, on top of everything else. If she tried to smile and tell him consolingly that he was still a good man and no doubt trying his best, or that it wasn’t his fault, he would smash the wall with his fist.
When he did not reply, she looked down at her plate. She took another bite of her enchiladas de mariscos. Waving her fork, she tilted her head at him, her eyes gleaming.
“I know you’re rich and powerful and all,” she teased, clearly trying to elevate the mood, “but what exactly do you do, anyway?”
Xerxes served himself more of the enchiladas and fish tacos that the villa’s cook had prepared. “I buy distressed companies. I sell the divisions that are profitable. I discard the parts that are not.”
Her face closed down. “Oh.”
He blinked at her. “You don’t approve?”
She shook her head.
“Why?” he asked curiously.
She shrugged.
“Tell me.”
She sighed. “Look, I know I don’t have any right to criticize. You’re a millionaire with a private jet and I’m a waitress with fifty dollars in my bank account. But I’ve been working my way through college, studying entrepreneurial business management at San Francisco State…” She hesitated, biting her lip, as if she expected him to mock her.
He leaned forward in his chair. “Go on.”
“Your company seems profitable, and that’s great, but…”
“Yes?”
She pressed her lips together, then looked up. “But people work at those companies. People who lose their jobs.”
“So?”
There was a loud burst of mariachi music from the town below, and she looked in the distance at the dark, moonswept Pacific. “I’m biased, I guess. My grandfather had a candy company a long time ago. It did really well, then things fell apart. Ingredients became more expensive, and we didn’t have the nationwide distribution of the larger companies. Ten years ago, after my father took over, a conglomerate offered to buy Linden Candy. It would have made us wealthy, but my dad knew they’d close the factory and move production, leaving half our town out of work. So for the sake of his employees—his neighbors and friends—my father refused.”
“Foolish.”
“No, not foolish!” she retorted. “It was noble. Courageous, even. My dad said we would either all sink together, or he would find a way to make the company succeed.”
“And what happened?”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “In spite of all his best efforts, the company went bankrupt.”
Xerxes gave a single firm nod. “He never should have allowed his feelings to override his business judgment.”
“He was protecting his employees!”
“He didn’t protect them. He failed them. And worse—he failed you. If he’d sold the company, you wouldn’t be working your way through college at the age of twenty-nine.”
She glared at him. “My father did the right thing. He held to his principles. I thought you of all people would appreciate that.”
“I of all people believe in facing reality. The company was a business. Not a charitable institution.”
“You sound so harsh!”
“That is how business works,” he said evenly, dipping his taco chips into his shrimp ceviche and fresh guacamole. “Things that were once successful die, they get replaced by the new. Business.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” She bit her lip, then said in a rush, “Someday, I’ll start it up again. I’ve made up a business plan. I’ll find a way to open the factory and—”
“Forget it,” he said brutally. “Accept it’s over and move on.”
She looked away, trembling. She took a gulp of lime margarita, then set the glass back down on the table. “It’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? You just break companies up for parts. Dissecting and eating them like a vulture.”
“It’s profitable.”
“You would have no clue how to truly run a company, to love it and invest your heart and soul in it.”
“You’re right,” he said. “And I wouldn’t want to. I don’t want it to be personal. It’s business.”
“Nothing’s ever personal for you, is it?” Putting her hands on the table, she pushed herself to her feet. “I feel sorry for you. I do.”
If it had been anyone else, he would have shrugged off their criticism and let them leave. But not Rose. She was the one person he couldn’t stand to be angry at him.
He reached his hand over hers. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t wish to fight with you.”
Her eyes relented. “I don’t want to fight, either.” She licked her lips and said, “But if you could just see how much greater it could be, how much more satisfying and challenging, to actually create something of value, anything—”
“No,” he said. “Even if I could do it, I wouldn’t. It would be a waste of energy and money.” He rose to his feet. “You’ve been cooped up in this penthouse all day. Shall we go out?”
“Out?” she said in astonishment.
He shrugged, even as his eyes caressed her. “I hear music from town. Want to go dancing with me?”
She sucked in her breath. “You would let me go out in public? You’d trust me not to run to the police?”
“If you’ll give me your word you won’t, I’ll trust you.”
“I give you my word,” she said, then paused. “Anyway, I want to help Laetitia now. I…want to help you.”
Of course she did, Xerxes thought, his eyes searching her sweetly beautiful face as if memorizing it for eternity. He’d kidnapped her, seduced her, refused to answer her questions. And yet she wanted to help him. Rose had the most loving heart of any woman—any person—he’d ever known.
She bit her lip, her face suddenly drawn. “But when do you think Lars will finalize the divorce?”
Xerxes didn’t want to think about it. “Any day now.”
She looked sad, then brightened. “But we have tonight. And I can hardly believe how much I’ve seen of the world in such a short time,” she said as he wrapped a pale cashmere cardigan around her shoulders.
“You haven’t minded all the travel?”
“Mind it?” She ticked off her fingers. “Greece, the Maldives, and now Mexico. After spending my whole life close to home, barely leaving northern California, it’s been amazing!”
“That’s what I can’t imagine.”
“Never going anywhere?”
“Having
a home that I didn’t wish to leave.”
“You’ve never had a home?”
He didn’t like the pity in her eyes. “I haven’t needed one.” He looked down at her. But you make everywhere feel like home to me, he thought. All he said was, “I’ve enjoyed our time together as well.”
“I wasn’t sure if you even liked me at first,” she said teasingly as he escorted her from the villa toward his rented MG convertible. “When you left it up to me to decide if we would even kiss…”
As he opened her door, he said, “I always knew I would get you into bed.”
She froze, then looked back at him. “You did?”
He suddenly wanted to tell her the truth. Had to tell her the truth. “I seduced you deliberately, Rose. Bit by bit. But I always knew I would win.”
“Oh.” Looking dazed, she climbed into the convertible and he closed the door behind her. Climbing into the driver’s side, he drove them out of the gated community down the winding hillside toward town. She remained silent for a few moments. He looked at her.
“Now do you regret our affair?” he said quietly.
“No.” She turned away. “It’s just…”
“Just?”
“When I meet the man I marry,” she said in a small voice, “what if he asks me why I didn’t wait for him? What if he asks why I didn’t have faith?”
“Rose!” he growled.
“But the thing is, I did wait,” she whispered. “I waited so long. And he never came. The only man who seemed remotely like a prince turned out to be a massive frog.”
Xerxes looked at her and envied—no, hated—the man she would someday marry. “He won’t ask you any stupid questions like that. He’ll just get down on his knees and thank God you are his wife.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Really?”
“Yes.” He found a parking spot near the marina. Turning off the car engine, he turned to face her beneath the warm lights of the town and took her hands in his own.
“I wonder if you have any idea how truly rare you are,” he said. “How you make life beautiful wherever you go. To everyone around you. Even me.”