by Caro LaFever
He’d lied to her.
The house didn’t tremble or shake. She didn’t see any cracks in the walls or floor. The last piece fell into place when she spotted the bin in the laundry room. It contained a T-shirt and shorts that were very familiar. Those had been the ones he’d worn when she first arrived. He must have taken a shower and changed at some point, but she hadn’t noticed, because there were so many other things to notice about him and his island.
Risa knew the caveman had been angry at her for invading his home. However, they’d worked together on his beach. They’d eaten together, and talked.
They’d made love! Or at least, she had.
She’d stood in his amazing house, the low hum of the generator encircling her, holding his filthy clothes in her hand, and realized she’d been a fool.
Shock had turned to painful agony.
He’d hurt her before, but nothing like this. How could he have moved his body over her, taken his pleasure, and yet, still kept this secret?
The memory of his supposedly heroic entry into his house to call her parents returned.
She’d been pitifully grateful.
Stupidly naïve.
Her hand had tightened into a fist around his clothes. Although he’d walked off at the lagoon, after she’d asked for more, she hadn’t expected such cruelty from him. By now, he should have relented and told her.
But he hadn’t. And that told her so much.
Every hope she’d had about being with him, finding someone who she could…
Love.
Yes, that’s what she’d been thinking and dreaming about. Once she’d realized she no longer loved Spencer because this man was so much more, she’d started building dreams.
Impossible dreams.
Now, as she strode away from him, she came to another painful realization. Maybe she’d fooled herself and she hadn’t grown up at all. Maybe she was still stupid and still incapable of being anyone worthy of respect. The reflection made her tummy turn in disgust. At herself and at the man standing behind her.
“Wait.” He came up behind her, moving fast, and grabbed her arm.
She tried to shake him off, keeping her focus on the house. “I never want to talk to you again.”
“Oh, really?” He dared to mock her with his cynical question. “Don’t you want to talk to me about your nonexistent business plan?”
Twirling around to confront him, she threw everything about herself away—her need to please, her pretty ways, her friendly manners—and leaned into a defiance she’d never felt before. Leaned into a cold, hard toughness she’d learned from this man. “No. I wouldn’t have you invest in my company if you were the last person on earth.”
“Seriously?” His gaze was sharp and keen, as if he were trying to figure her out. Yet, the tone of his question didn’t waver from sarcastic. “Are you sure, Princesa?”
Her temper flared into a hot fire at the insulting nickname. “I’m sure.”
Wanting to make her point clearer than clear, she stepped right into him, right into his face and chest and presence. She put her best sneer on her face, one she only saved for the worthless snobs she’d met at school and the country club.
He held his place, but she could tell her claim had confounded him. A wary look crossed his face.
“You know what, Riq?” she snarled.
“What?” His wariness filled the one word as well.
“You come off all smug and satisfied, like you know everything.”
“Do I?” A touch of amusement colored the question once more.
The humor poured gasoline on the fire billowing inside. “Yes, you do. But it’s nothing other than a bluff.”
“Is it?” His thick brows rose in patent rejection.
“Yes, because any man who would make a woman suffer as much as you did me, is more than an asshole.”
He went silent at the charge.
Risa leaned closer, spitting the words in his face. “More than a shithead.”
His gaze didn’t swerve from hers.
“Because making people suffer, even if they’re unwanted guests, is plain cruel. That tells me so much about you, de Molina.”
A tick in his jaw told her she’d successfully breached his defenses. And she had one more jab to deliver before she took residence in his house and ignored him for the days that followed. She came closer, so close she felt his breath on her skin. “It tells me I wouldn’t want you anywhere near Migneault Perfumery.”
The mist entirely cleared from his eyes, leaving only a blank blue stare.
She stuck in the last jab. “We might be stupid in the way we run our company, but at least we care about our employees and our customers.”
His stare didn’t waver.
“At least we’re kind, de Molina. At least we don’t like to hurt people just because we can.”
The caveman didn’t move. For a second, she got the feeling he wanted her to keep going, keep hitting at him with her accusations. Except that didn’t make any sense. This was the arrogant asshole who had told her daddy off and rejected her family’s need for help.
“Neither of those behaviors are something you can claim. You’re a liar and a malicious man.” With one last glare, she yanked her arm from his lax grip and marched toward the house.
He didn’t follow, which surprised her. But from now on, she didn’t plan on letting him enter her sphere of awareness. During her cautious exploration of the tree house an hour ago, she’d counted five other bedrooms and another separate bathroom. Other than the kitchen, she wouldn’t have to share a damn thing with him.
A woof came from her feet. Looking down, she sighed. “Jiggs.”
He panted, tongue lolling, eyes adoring. A tiny chink in the wall of her hate toward Riq squirmed inside her heart. Because how could a man who was so heartless, have an animal love him with such devotion?
Another bark and the dog started dancing around her, toenails clacking on the terrace’s stones. Clearly, he understood she was heading for the tree house.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Another woof was the response.
With a reluctant glance, Risa peered behind her. No owner marched toward them wanting his dog back. She’d rounded the corner of the house, but she still could see much of the terrace. No surly man lounged on the stone wall or swung in the hammock. Apparently, he’d taken off for the beach or lagoon.
“Good riddance,” she muttered.
Another bark.
He’d left Jiggs with her? Odd after their last confrontation. Not wanting to think about him ever again, she paced to the front door and threw it open. “Come on, boy.”
His dog obediently scrambled up the stairs and into the house with her following.
The door slammed shut with a satisfying thud. “We’re going to party hard, Jiggers.”
An enthusiastic woof was the response.
“There better be some wine here. Or liquor.” She’d never been a huge drinker, but this situation deserved an excellent glass of wine and a dinner of something delicious. Courtesy of her nasty host.
Jiggs looked at her, adoration coloring his eyes to a blue brilliance. Which reminded her of another set of blue eyes filled with the brilliance of lust and longing.
“Don’t go there,” she instructed herself as she headed for the shower. “Don’t ever go there again.”
Riq stood on the dock, watching the evening sunlight flicker across the waves. With a desperation that surprised him, he wished for a boat, a ship, hell, a flotilla of immigrants coming from Cuba to appear on the horizon to whisk him away from himself.
And her.
Nothing appeared. The lap, lap, lap of the water hitting the wooden trestles beneath his feet was like a drumbeat in his head.
We might be stupid in the way we run our company, but at least we care about our employees and our customers.
Care.
A shudder went through him.
There was the cut that had hur
t far more than any of her others. Not that they all hadn’t landed a punch. Much harder than any of her puny efforts with her hands.
When he’d been a kid, a really small kid, he’d learned to not care about how different he was from his brothers. It had been the only way he could survive without turning into a crazed beast. Or that’s what he’d told himself. After he’d gotten himself into the Marines and found success, he’d come to care about his fellow SEALs and the missions they’d gone on together. But he’d held something back there, too. Some part of himself that didn’t want to risk putting everything out there. He supposed he could still claim to care about his vet buddies. After all, his foundation, the place he poured most of his money into, was set up to care for fallen Marines’ families. And he continued to counsel quite a few of his fellow SEALs on their investments.
At least we care.
His hands fisted at his sides.
She was right. Utterly, completely right. Because his entire life had been about shying away from caring too much, caring enough that he’d put everything into something. Anything. Anyone.
“Coño.”
The swearword hovered above him, like a condemnation from God. He might have told himself all was right with his world during these last few years as he piled up the money. But in his heart, in the dank, dark center of his heart, he’d known.
He was just going through the motions.
He didn’t care about the money or the investments.
He didn’t care about much of anything.
Yaya’s disappointed face floated into his memory. Mi nieto, she murmured, how could you have gone so wrong?
When. Where. How had he come to this?
At least we don’t like to hurt people just because we can.
A gaping hole opened in his uncaring heart. Something he hated to contemplate leapt into him like a rabid ghoul. Was he going to spend the rest of his life standing to one side, piling up more money, and not caring about anything worth a damn? Was he going to keep lying to his family as some sort of sick joke, so he could feed his sense of injustice and feel superior?
That’s what the princesa would say if she knew.
He knew. That’s what she’d say.
Sucking in a deep breath of humid, salty air, he turned and paced down the dock to the sandy beach. When his bare feet hit the warmth of his island, he knelt and sat, ignoring the twinge in his knee. He stared at the village and then, the mountaintop where his tree house stood and she waited.
Not for him, though.
She waited to be rid of him.
His sense of being the one in charge, the man who held the goodies in his hand, the guy who saved and didn’t need saving…
It slid away.
Somehow, in their last confrontation, she’d grabbed the power.
The light in her eyes when she’d rejected him, rejected his money and his help in saving Migneault Perfumery had been easy to read. The light in those Marine-blue eyes had told him she’d written him off for good.
And she’d been right to do so.
Right about everything.
He had been cruel. He’d also been smug about it. None of what he’d done in the past few days was honorable. It wasn’t worthy of him. His heritage. Being a Marine. Being a SEAL.
Being a human being.
“Me cago en diez,” he swore at the ocean. At himself.
The sun slid behind his mountain, casting the last of its light on the waves rolling along the beach. The gentle sounds of the birds warbling from the edge of the jungle blended with the hush of the coming night.
He had more than most. More money and luxury. More privilege and power. And yet, all he’d done was squander his time and think he was better.
Better than Risa.
Which she’d proved decisively was wrong. Unlike him, she jumped into life with everything she had. She faced her issues, accepted her imperfections, apologized when she was wrong.
She was far better than Enrique de Molina.
The knowledge sank into him like an iron anchor. It drifted down and down into the pit of his soul to lodge like a mooring.
She was no longer a princesa to him. Oh, he’d always use the nickname because he’d come to like the sound of it on his lips and there was something quintessentially royal about Maurisa Migneault. But he realized now, it wasn’t an air of superiority surrounding her. It was an attitude of daring and doing that defined her.
He wanted that daring and doing woman with him.
A shock ran through him at the realization.
The sex between them had shifted something inside. He’d known, even though he’d rejected it. Now, he let the shift settle. A shift of knowing this wasn’t just sex. Of knowing this wasn’t just another woman. No other woman he knew—not even his mother or grandmother—would have got right into his face and told him the bald truth of how badly he’d behaved and bad he’d become.
He aimed to change that.
Change himself.
Standing with a wince, he brushed the sand off his shorts and headed toward the path leading to the house.
Time to man up.
He needed to apologize with a sincerity he’d never shown another woman in his life.
The stars in a hazy heaven,
tremble above you.
Cinderfella
Chapter 26
Risa swung her crystal glass filled with golden wine in front of her. The movement made her a bit woozy, so she stopped.
A wash of wine slapped over the rim of the glass to coat her hand. “Shit.”
Jiggs woofed, his gaze pinned on the last hunk of muenster cheese on the cutting board. After taking a lovely, long shower, she’d wrapped herself in a short robe she’d found in the spare bedroom located as far from his as possible. It had been fairly simple to figure out which one was his. The leather easy chair standing by the closet was piled with T-shirts and jeans, as if he couldn’t be bothered to put them away. Yet, the sheets and duvet were rigidly tucked and smoothed, indicating his military background. The bed itself was huge, far bigger than a king size, and she easily pictured his naked body sprawled on it.
The image flashing to life in her brain had made her grumpy.
Jiggs woofed at her feet again.
“I don’t think I should give you this, boy.” She frowned at the cheese. It appeared to dance on the counter, but that couldn’t happen, so she dismissed it. “Your jerk of an owner probably has a whole list of rules about what you can and cannot eat.”
“You’re slurring your words.”
At the low, rough sound of the jerk’s voice, Risa swiveled around and barely caught the edge of the counter to stop herself from falling at his feet.
Which she wouldn’t do.
Ever again. Figuratively or literally.
Sneering, she slugged another sip of wine and pretended he didn’t exist.
He was always so impossible to ignore, though. “I see you found my wine cellar.”
Yes, she had. As well as his stash of fancy French cheese and German sausage. After choosing her bedroom, she’d landed in the kitchen. The black granite counters and white-washed walls and paneled cabinets matched the decor of the rest of the house. While the home could have come off as spartan and cold, the colors managed to bring a sense of peace and ease, a sense of clean and clear.
She loved his house.
Damn him.
“Well, Jiggs,” she said to her faithful companion, who hadn’t moved his hind end from the floor nor his eyes from the cheese. “It’s time for bed. Your asshole owner has ruined the party.”
Taking a wobbly step toward the other entryway, far from where he stood in the archway leading to the living room, she found her feet didn’t work. The wine glass wobbled in her hand.
“Whoa.” The glass got plucked from her fingers and a strong grip clamped onto her elbow.
The man could move so fast when he wanted to. It astonished her.
“Give that back,” she grumbled, st
ill avoiding looking at him. “I want to drink the rest in bed.”
“Since I’m supposedly the one always making rules, I’m going to nix you dribbling wine all over one of my beds.”
“Let me go.” Her legs swayed beneath her and she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze straight.
A gusty male sigh came from her side and before she could escape, he swung her into his arms. “I’m saving you.”
Her head spun and Risa closed her eyes, trying to gain control of her limbs and brain. “I don’t need saving. Especially not from you.”
“Yeah, got that earlier.” His voice turned into a slow drawl. “But if you don’t mind—”
“I mind.”
He chuckled. “If you don’t mind my helping you to your bed, I think it might be a good idea.”
“You have no good ideas.” She popped her eyes open to confront his. The misty blue was filled with the familiar amusement. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“It’s hard not to,” he said, his lips quirking. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” she huffed.
“You are.” Hefting her in his arms, he took off toward the stairs. Jiggs whined, but followed them, his toenails clacking on the inlaid wood floors. “I suppose you have a right to be after what I’ve put you through.”
Her head nearly got whiplash when she swung around to stare into his face. “What did you say?”
“I’m not going to apologize now because you likely won’t remember.” He marched up the stairs, not seeming to mind the extra weight he carried in his arms. “And since I don’t often apologize and rarely to a woman, I want you to remember.”
There was an odd, cottony taste in her mouth she didn’t like, and her tummy suddenly turned queasy. “Stop moving.”
He looked down, inspecting her with an alert gaze, and coming to a halt right by the bathroom. “Are you going to be sick?”
Yes, yes she was. The caveman must have seen the answer in her expression, because he broke into a semi-run for the toilet. The jogging was the last straw.
Risa returned to reality to find her hair gently pulled back and a warm, broad hand lying lightly on the base of her spine. “Oh, God.”