Okay, so not just Star Wars, but a science fiction fan too, maybe?
“What are you doing?” Strong arms suddenly wound around her, his voice in her ear, his breath warm against her neck.
She smiled, leaning back into him. “You finished your phone call then?”
“And just in time from the looks of things. Have you discovered my porn collection?”
Ella held up the DVDs. “If by porn, you mean science fiction, then yes.”
“Ah,” he breathed. “My secret shame.”
She twisted in his arms, looking up into his handsome face. “Let’s not go out. Let’s watch movies and eat popcorn instead.”
His blue eyes widened fractionally. “You want to watch Star Wars?”
She felt herself color. He made it sound as if that was the most bizarre thing he’d ever heard. “Sure. Why not?”
“Have you seen it before?”
Briefly she debated lying, if only to make this another thing he could introduce her to, another thing that would please him. Not to mention feeling a little defensive of her answer. Then again, this was something that, if she was right, they both appeared to like. Something they could connect with that wasn’t ballet or sex. Because that was all they’d had in common, so far.
She still didn’t know what he liked to do, apart from work. Didn’t know what made him tick. All she had of him were his memories of her—and she didn’t even share those.
“I’ve seen it approximately fifty million times,” she said steadily. “And I love it. In fact, I love all the DVDs on your shelf and I’ve seen those fifty million times too.” She paused, looking up into his eyes. “I haven’t seen them with you, though.”
A flicker of emotion moved in his gaze, gone too quickly for her to recognize. “Then we’ll watch it,” he said simply.
* * *
Ella sat curled in his arms on the wide couch in his home cinema, her attention glued to the massive flat screen on the wall in front of them. He’d spent fucking thousands on the screen and the sound system since movies were his escape, and right now he’d never been more glad of the expense.
She’d loved it, in awe as he’d sat her down on the plush black velvet couch. Then when he’d started up the movie, she’d exclaimed about the picture quality, complaining that her father had never bothered with a decent screen since, according to him, a TV was a TV and the quality was all the same.
Which was bullshit, and Rafe thoroughly agreed.
What was not bullshit was her snuggling in his arms, apparently as into this movie as she was into all the rest.
They were currently on Return of the Jedi, having torn through the first two of the trilogy, and were now debating watching The Phantom Menace, though both of them agreed Episodes One to Three weren’t very good.
“Lucas’s dialogue never got any better anyway,” Ella commented, as Ewoks bounced around on the screen. “The only good thing about those movies are the lightsaber fights. And when they got rid of Jar Jar Binks.”
“And Ewen MacGregor as Obi Wan,” he added, reaching around her for some popcorn only to find there was none left. “Seriously? I hate Ewoks and you’ve eaten all the popcorn.”
She made a satisfied noise. “And it was good too. But wait.” Twisting in his arms, she looked up at him. “How can you hate Ewoks?”
“Easily. They’re cute. I hate cute.”
Ella grinned. “You’re cute.”
“I’m not. I’m very dangerous.” He bared his teeth to prove his point. “Unless you’d like another demonstration?”
“Hmm. Very scary.”
“You were scared of me.”
“I was.” A hint of pure mischief gleamed in her eyes. “But now you’re just an Ewok to me. Cute and fuzzy, making little noises—hey!”
He pushed her onto the couch, growling, kissing her, and stroking the warm skin beneath her cotton shirt, loving how she laughed even as he felt her shiver.
“You’re making me miss the movie,” she said breathlessly as he caressed the soft, silky skin of stomach.
“Your own fault.” He nuzzled against her throat. “And I do not make little noises.”
“Okay, maybe not.” Her fingers tangled in his hair. “I never would have thought you’d be a Star Wars fan.”
Rafe lifted his head, staring down at her. He’d spent the last few days basking in the pleasure of finally having her here, in his home. In his bed. Reveling in being able to have her wherever and whenever he wanted, and not only that. Her very presence was a reassurance he hadn’t anticipated. Waking up in the mornings with her in his arms made him feel calm the whole day.
He couldn’t get enough of her and had spent every waking moment thinking of things to do that would give her pleasure, that would delight her. She hadn’t been wrong at the ballet earlier. He did love showing her new experiences.
Though he hadn’t anticipated that this particular new experience—watching Star Wars with him—would lead to questions.
Questions that touched on subjects he didn’t want to answer.
Then again, he didn’t have to make a big deal out of it and hell, perhaps he could turn it around on her. Because he was still hungry for information about her and hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted from her yet, not even close.
He pushed himself away and sat upright, tucking her against him once more. “I like movies, what can I say? The more escapist the better. There wasn’t much to do at my grandfather’s house, so I used to watch a lot of TV. He was the science fiction fan. I picked it up off him.”
“He had great taste then.”
“You could say that.” Rafe decided a subject change was in order. “What about you? Science fiction and ballet don’t exactly go together.”
“That was my dad. A rainy day and boredom he decided to cure with Star Wars.” She gave a theatrical little sigh. “And so it became a lifelong affliction.”
He grinned, loving how playful she’d become with him. Lifting a hand, he wound his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back against his shoulder, then bent to put his mouth near her ear. “Little Red, I must know. Star Wars or Star Trek?”
She rolled her eyes. “Star Wars of course. Because Darth Vader.”
Fuck, what a delicious girl she was. “Not a Luke fan?”
“Really?” She half turned her head, her gray eyes meeting his. “Do I look like I like nice boys?”
He had to kiss her then. It was a must, because she could not be any more perfect for him if she tried. But just as he was leaning in, she raised a brow a brow imperiously. “What about you? Star Wars or Trek?”
He didn’t even need to think. “Star Wars.”
“Not because of Luke though. You don’t strike me as fan of nice boys either.”
“I’m not.” He smiled and brushed his mouth over hers. “I wanted the princess.”
Ella laughed, and the sound was a delight, shivering through him.
She’s dangerous . . .
The thought was so ridiculous that he dismissed it instantly. It was true that she had claws, but he was the dangerous one here, not her. He could hurt her and badly, yet she would never be able to hurt him.
He would never give her that power.
No matter how long he intended to keep her.
Chapter 10
A week later, Ella stepped out the doors of the hospital and sure enough, waiting at the curb was Rafe’s limo, just as he’d promised.
She’d told him not to worry, that after she’d visited Aurora, she’d find a cab home, but he’d refused to even consider it. The limo would be there for her whatever time she wanted to come home—and if he found out she’d gotten a cab, “there would be hell to pay.”
That kind of threat usually made her want to see exactly what kind of hell she’d actually pay, but after a half hour of sitting beside Aurora’s bed, watching her normally shrewd and snarky grandmother lie there sleeping, looking shrunken and even older than her years, she wasn’t in the mood for defianc
e.
It had been a couple of weeks since Aurora’s stroke and, although her condition had improved, Ella had hoped she’d make a full recovery—or at least enough of one to mean that her grandmother could come back home. But the doctors had been clear. Aurora was going to need permanent hospital care.
Tears filled Ella’s eyes, but she blinked them away as she walked over the icy sidewalk to the limo. Aurora wouldn’t have wanted her to cry—so she wouldn’t—but that didn’t ease the bitter disappointment at the news.
Clive was already out of the car and opening the door for her as she approached, and she gave him a watery smile as she got in. Then the smile changed as she realized Rafe was sitting inside.
The tight, painful grief in her heart eased. “Didn’t you have a meeting?”
“Yes.” His gaze narrowed as he stared at her. “But I thought this was more important.” He held out his arms toward her. “Come here.”
She didn’t think twice, moving into them and letting him pull her into his lap as Clive shut the door behind her, closing out the wind and the falling snow.
Then there was silence and the heat of Rafe’s body against hers, the steady beat of his heart in her ear as she laid her head against his chest. The grief relaxed even more, and she had to close her eyes, those stupid tears pricking behind her lids again.
“It’s not good news,” she said, before he could ask. “I hoped it would be, but it’s not.”
His arms were strong and reassuring around her, holding her tightly. “Tell me.”
“She can’t go home. She’s going to need permanent care.”
“I wondered as much.” He turned his head, and she felt his mouth brush her hair. “You don’t need to worry. I know a very good private hospital nearby and their care is the best there is. There’s even a garden. I’ll show you the website when we get home.”
“Home.” Ella closed her eyes. He didn’t mean her parents’ home. He meant his place. And why wouldn’t he? That had been “home” for her for the past couple of weeks, and it was starting to feel like one too.
Every morning she woke in his arms and every night she fell asleep the same way. She’d never felt stronger, more alive, and less afraid than she felt in those arms. In fact, at times when she was with him, she almost felt the way she did on stage. Free and powerful and brave. Able to do anything she wanted to do.
Until reality hit in the way reality always did, reminding her that real life was there waiting for her. Real life being Aurora and what to do with her. And what to do with herself. Because really, how long could she stay with Rafe? Being with him felt like an extended holiday, but the thing with holidays was that they eventually ended. They weren’t permanent. Not that she wanted permanent, not when she had dreams of her own to achieve.
Such as Paris. Such as getting her audition video and application sorted out now that she had the money for fees. And then there was getting Aurora settled into the private hospital Rafe had found, which although Ella could see the necessity of, she didn’t much like the idea of. She told herself it was because she hated the thought of having her grandmother looked after by strangers, but a deeper part of her knew the truth. She didn’t want Aurora to go because she was afraid of being alone. Afraid of being unneeded and unwanted. Afraid of disappearing entirely.
“What are you thinking about?” Rafe’s voice after the heaviness of the silence came as a shock.
“Just . . . Aurora.” She didn’t want to tell him the truth. They’d been sleeping together only a couple of weeks and, for all his possessiveness, she couldn’t quite bring herself to start asking questions about the future. Not yet at least.
“Hmmm.” The sound was deeply skeptical. “Why do I not believe you?”
Ella stared at the open collar of his shirt. He’d gotten rid of his tie, the top couple of buttons undone, and she could see his pulse beating at the base of his throat, strong and steady. Unable to help herself, she reached up and undid another couple of buttons, parting the crisp cotton so she could touch his skin. It was warm and smooth as satin. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Why don’t you?”
“Ah, so it’s going to be like that, is it?” His voice was a low rumble. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me now? Save yourself a whole lot of trouble? You know how I like a fight, Red.”
She shifted in his lap, undoing another couple of buttons so she could touch more bare skin, finding that a whole lot more interesting that the direction her thoughts were taking. “Or you could just leave it.”
He laughed. “Have you met me, darling? That’s not happening.”
Ella glanced up at him. “Have you ever had a blow job in a limo?”
He didn’t even blink. “Of course. Many times. But if you think that’s going to distract me, you’re sadly mistaken.”
Stupid thing to ask. A man like him would probably have had thousands of limo blow jobs. “Well, okay then. How about if I sat on your lap and—”
His hand reached out and cupped her jaw in a tender gesture that had her heart squeezing tight in her chest, the rest of her sentence dying in her mouth unsaid. “You’re worried about something, I can tell.”
She swallowed, her throat feeling tight now too. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” He rubbed his thumb gently along her jawline. “But if you don’t want to tell me about it now, that’s fine. I have a little surprise organized for us anyway. You can tell me later.” His mouth curved in a smile that was just on the edge of wicked. “After I’ve gotten you drunk.”
She leaned into his hand, loving the feel of it against her skin. “What surprise?”
He looked smug. “You’ll see.”
She did, ten minutes later, as the limo pulled up outside the familiar entrance to the building she’d gone into a little over two weeks earlier. And come out of trembling and turned on and confused and afraid.
“I told you I wanted another dinner,” Rafe murmured as she stared up at the skyscraper towering above them. “Time for dinner part two.”
He’d organized it the way he had before, the restaurant empty except for them. This time, though, he got her to choose the table.
It was a challenge for her and she knew it—half of her wanted to pick the table against the wall to mess with him. But her pride wouldn’t let her, so naturally she chose the table right in front of the massive plate-glass windows with their dizzying view of Manhattan.
His eyes lit at her choice and she decided she was glad she hadn’t messed with him. She liked the delighted way he smiled at her, clearly proud of her, and it made her feel way more pleased with herself than it should have. But she let herself have it, since his smiles were starting to become something of an addiction.
Naturally, he insisted on pulling out her chair for her, and this time she smiled back at him, giving him a flirtatious look from underneath her lashes as she sat down, enjoying the feeling of his tall strength behind her. He laughed and brushed his fingers up her arms in a light, fleeting touch before skirting the table and sitting himself down.
Then he raised a hand, giving some signal, and the waiter appeared with menus and wine.
“Champagne?” Ella gave her glass a pointed look. “Again?”
“You refused a toast last time. And besides, we have something to celebrate.”
“Do we?”
“Yes. You’re here and your hands aren’t shaking.”
No. They weren’t. And all she’d thought when she looked out of the window were how pretty the lights were coming on outside. If that was progress, then she’d take it.
He picked up his glass and held it out. “Here’s to you, Little Red.”
She smiled and picked up her own glass, knocking it lightly against his. “And to being twenty floors up with no shaking hands.”
His eyes gleamed. “Speaking of, I’m planning on another reenactment of my fantasy. Just so you know.”
Ah. Heat swept through her and she had to cover the fact that he
’d flustered her by sipping on the cool liquid in her glass. “Here? Now?”
“Yes, here. And no, not now.” He sounded amused. “I’m hungry and I want my damn dinner.”
She grinned. “I guess I’d better choose what I want to have in that case.”
The menu was extensive, and Rafe took her through it, pointing out his favorites and musing over the ones he hadn’t tried. She resisted the snails—even though he told her she had to at least try them since she was going to France—settling on a delicious-sounding vegetable soup instead. He attempted to convince her of the sublimeness of the rabbit stew, but she resisted that too, firmly going for the steak and fries.
“Soup, steak, and fries,” Rafe said scornfully. “This fabulous five-star restaurant and that’s what you want? I could cook that for you at home.”
Surprise threaded through her. “You can cook? How come I didn’t know that?” Because he hadn’t given any sign of it. They’d spent most of the time at his place either eating out or ordering in.
He grinned, giving her a very blue glance from beneath his thick, black lashes. “You never asked.”
“Well, I will now.” She lifted her glass and took another sip of the champagne, the bubbles fizzing on her tongue. “As long as we have it with this wine to go with it.”
He shook his head and summoned the waiter, who took their order, filled up their water glasses, and vanished again.
A silence fell, somehow magnified by the emptiness of the restaurant, making Ella feel self-conscious all of a sudden.
Rafe had shrugged off his jacket and was in the process of rolling up the sleeves of his white business shirt, and she found herself watching him, the movements of his strong, capable hands vaguely sexy.
“So,” he said, settling back into his chair and reaching for his glass again. “Are you going to tell me what the problem was back in the car?”
Dammit. He couldn’t even give her a few moments before pouncing on the one thing she didn’t want to talk about.
The Big, Bad Billionaire Page 15