Never Say No to a Caffarelli

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Rafe blamed Clarissa Moncrief. Raoul had proposed the night before the accident and she had readily accepted. Rafe didn’t believe for a second she loved Raoul or that Raoul had loved her, but that wasn’t the point. She had ended their engagement with a chilling disregard for his feelings.

  Rafe was determined to get Raoul out of this slump of self-pity. He was in the process of tracking down a specialist he’d read about in an article online, a young English woman called Lily Archer who had worked with the young daughter of a wealthy sheikh who had suffered a horse riding accident. Halimah Al-Balawi had made a stunning recovery that had defied the doctors’ prognosis. Rafe was determined to engage Miss Archer’s services no matter what it cost and no matter what resistance his brother put up. Raoul could be stubborn when things didn’t go his way, but Rafe had a gut feeling Lily Archer was just the person to sort him out.

  But before Rafe went back to be with Raoul he had one other thing to sort out. He hadn’t heard from Poppy, but then he hadn’t expected to. He had made things pretty clear to her. But it niggled at him that he could have handled things a little better. He had been caught off-guard in Paris. He had shut down as soon as he’d heard about his brother’s accident. It was how he always handled things, by closing off all distractions and concentrating on the task at hand.

  But seeing how Clarissa had walked so callously out of his brother’s life had pulled him up short. He hadn’t liked what he had seen when he examined himself. How had Poppy felt to be dismissed like that? How could he have done that to her?

  The lights were on in the dower house as he pulled up. He saw Poppy moving about the kitchen as he walked up the path to the back door. She was wearing her flowery apron and her hair was tied up on top of her head. There was a streak of flour over one cheek as she carried a tray of something to the oven.

  The dogs must have heard him, as they started their maniacal barking, and Poppy immediately stiffened, put the tray back down on the bench and turned to see him through the window near the back door. Her face turned as white as the flour on her cheek, but then she seemed to compose herself. Her mouth tightened as she took off her oven mitts and, placing them on the counter, came over to open the door. ‘Yes?’

  Rafe knew he deserved a cool welcome but this wasn’t like the Poppy he knew. ‘Hi. I saw your light on.’

  ‘I do that after dark,’ she said. ‘It’s expensive, but I’m covering all my costs now that I’m following your business plan. No more freebies. No more credit. No more being taken advantage of. Wish I’d done it earlier.’

  Rafe gave her a twisted smile. ‘Good for you.’

  She was like a stranger, a cold, distant stranger who didn’t smile, whose toffee-brown eyes didn’t light up when she saw him. Even the dogs seemed to sense the change, for they were not jumping around him vying for his attention but standing well back, eyeing him suspiciously. Pickles was giving him that beady look again, as if to say, “I knew I couldn’t trust you”.

  ‘I should’ve called to tell you I was coming,’ Rafe said.

  ‘Why?’ She gave him a hardened look. ‘So I could roll out the red carpet for you?’

  He frowned. ‘No, it’s just that I wanted to explain why I left you in Paris like that.’

  ‘You don’t need to explain it. I totally got it, Rafe. You didn’t need me any more. You wanted to be on your own so you could concentrate on your brother. How is he?’

  ‘He’s out of hospital,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping to take him to his villa in Normandy once he’s cleared from rehab.’

  ‘There’s been nothing in the press.’

  ‘No, we’ve been trying to keep things pretty quiet. But I’m not sure how long that will last.’

  A silence chugged past.

  Rafe couldn’t believe how hard this was. He had been expecting... What had he been expecting? He felt out of his depth, out of balance, disoriented. She was so unreachable, so tightly contained, he felt like an invisible wall was around her.

  ‘I’ve come to a decision,’ Poppy said. ‘You can buy the dower house. I don’t want it any more. It should never have been separated from the manor. They belong together.’

  Rafe blinked to reorient himself. ‘How much do you want?’

  ‘Twenty-five percent above market value.’

  He let out a slowly measured breath. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’

  ‘I had a very good teacher.’

  He searched her features for any sign of a chink in that shiny new armour but she was as hard as nails. He felt a sinkhole of sadness open up inside him. She’d had a very good teacher indeed.

  He had done that to her.

  ‘I’ll get my secretary to tee things up,’ he said.

  ‘Fine.’

  There was another clunky silence.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ Her tone was impatient and unfriendly. Rafe recognised it, for he had used it a thousand times when he had wanted to dismiss someone who was taking up too much of his precious time.

  ‘No.’ He gave her a tight, formal smile. ‘That’s about it.’

  She didn’t return his smile. She didn’t even wait until he’d turned his back to go back down the path before she shut the door.

  Rafe stared at the wood panelling for a moment. He toyed with the idea of knocking and starting over, but he dismissed the thought before it took hold.

  It was better this way. He’d got what he wanted; she was selling him the dower house.

  Goal.

  Focus.

  Win.

  But it was ironic that the victory, now he had it, didn’t taste so sweet.

  * * *

  ‘Any luck on tracking down that rehab woman Lily Archer?’ Rafe asked his secretary when he got back to London after he’d taken Raoul to his villa in Normandy.

  ‘Yes, but apparently she doesn’t work with male clients,’ Margaret said.

  Rafe exhaled in irritation. ‘Then get her to change her mind. I don’t care how much it costs.’

  ‘How is Raoul?’

  ‘The same.’ He scraped a hand through his hair. ‘Won’t eat. Barely drinks. Just sits there brooding all the time.’

  ‘A bit like you, then.’

  Rafe’s brows snapped together. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Margaret gave him a knowing look. ‘You remind me of one of my sons. He’s an all-or-nothing thinker. He doesn’t know how to compromise. It doesn’t have to be either-or, Rafe. You can help Raoul and be happy in your love life.’

  ‘I don’t have a love life.’ He strode over to the window and looked at the dismal weather outside.

  ‘You miss her, don’t you?’

  Rafe swung back to glower at her. ‘You might want to have another look at your job description. As far I as recall, it says nothing about you making comments on my private life.’

  ‘You’re a good boss, Rafe, and you’re a good man,’ Margaret said. ‘What you’ve done for Armand, your accountant in Paris, is proof of that.’

  ‘That was Poppy’s idea, not mine.’ He thrust his hands in his pockets, still scowling. ‘I was going to send him to rot in prison.’

  ‘No, you weren’t,’ Margaret said. ‘You’d have found a way to help him. Just like you help lots of people. Like that foundation you set up for kids who’ve lost their parents. Funny how the press like to report on who you’re sleeping with but they never report on all the good things you do.’

  Rafe turned back to the window. He couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with anyone but Poppy. His need for her was an ache that had settled around his heart like a set of ten-kilogram dumb-bells. Every breath he took felt painful. It wasn’t just the sex he missed, which was ironic, because that in itself was way out of character for him.

  It was her smile he missed, the way her gorg
eous brown eyes lit up whenever she saw him. The way her touch soothed the wound of loneliness inside him that he had not even realised he’d possessed until she had eased it. The way she gave herself to him with such complete trust.

  But he had destroyed the things he loved most about her. She didn’t look at him like that any more. She didn’t want to touch him. She didn’t trust him.

  Could he win back her trust? Could he make her smile at him? Could he make her eyes sparkle with delight when he walked into the room?

  ‘Do you want me to send Miss Silverton some jewellery?’ Margaret asked. ‘Rubies, sapphires or maybe pearls? They’d look rather nice with her colouring, don’t you think?’

  Rafe turned and faced her. ‘No, I’ll do it myself.’

  Margaret’s pencilled brows rose above the frame of her tortoiseshell glasses. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Rafe had never been surer of anything in his life. It was like a stone curtain had lifted in his brain. ‘Cancel all of my appointments,’ he said. ‘I’m heading out of town.’

  ‘Do you need me to book a hotel for you?’

  ‘No, I’m going to stay at the manor.’

  ‘But I thought you were going to sell it.’ She swung around in her chair to look at him as he reached for his jacket. ‘You told me to contact the agent about putting it back on the market.’

  ‘Sell it? Are you crazy?’ He snatched up his keys off the desk. ‘I’m going to live there.’

  * * *

  Poppy was emptying the display cabinet at the end of the day when the doorbell chimed. A shiver rose over her skin and her heart started to gallop. She slowly turned around and her breath caught in her throat. Rafe was standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever, if a little tired. There were shadows beneath his eyes and his face looked a little drawn, as if he’d lost weight.

  She put on her business face, but it hurt to keep it there. He looked so worn out. She had to control the impulse to reach out to him and give him a hug. ‘Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘Actually, what I’d really like is a cup of tea.’

  She blinked. ‘Tea?’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘The hospital coffee was awful. It was even worse at the rehab centre. I had to resort to tea; I got used to it after a while. Now I can’t get through the day without a cup or two.’

  ‘I never thought I’d see the day,’ Poppy said with forced lightness. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like a piece of cake?’

  ‘Do you have any butter cake?’

  She blinked again. ‘Butter cake?’

  ‘Preferably raw.’

  Her eyes almost popped. ‘Raw?’

  He smiled again but there was hint of wistfulness about it. ‘My mother used to bake for us. She didn’t want us to grow up with cooks and housekeepers doing everything for us. My favourite cake was vanilla butter-cake. She always used to let me lick the bowl. The day before she and my father were killed, she’d baked one and gave me a spoonful of the batter.’

  Poppy blinked again but this time to hold back her tears. ‘Oh Rafe...’

  ‘I guess it would be quite a novel thing, having a raw wedding cake,’ he said. ‘Do you think anyone’s ever done that before?’

  Poppy’s heart sank. ‘You’re getting married?’

  His dark eyes twinkled. ‘I hope to very soon.’

  She swallowed a tight lump in her throat. She could barely look at him in case he saw the bitter disappointment in her eyes. ‘Who’s the lucky girl?’

  Rafe took her hands in his. ‘That’s what I love about you, Poppy. You take nothing for granted. You’re modest and gracious and so incredibly sweet, I can’t bear the thought of spending another day without you.’

  Her eyes were so wide they looked like satellite dishes. ‘You love me?’

  ‘I think I fell in love with you the first day I walked in here and met your beautiful eyes. I loved your feistiness, the fact that you were so completely undaunted by me. You were prepared to fight for what you believed in. But what I admire even more about you is how you put your own needs aside for others. The way you realised the manor and the dower house belong together. I was too stubborn to see that but, even though you wanted to keep your house, you saw the greater good in letting it go.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this...’

  Rafe smiled as he drew her closer. ‘Marry me, ma petite. Please?’

  Her dimpled smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. ‘Yes.’

  He could not believe how one simple word could make him so happy. ‘I have something for you,’ he said, taking out a velvet box from his jacket pocket. ‘I had it designed specially.’

  Poppy held her breath as he opened the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond that glittered brilliantly. ‘It’s so beautiful...’

  He took it out and slipped it on her finger, holding her hand in his. ‘Diamonds are for ever, ma cherie. I won’t settle for anything less from you. I hope you realise that. And I want babies. At least two.’

  She gave him a smile that made her eyes dance. ‘I love you.’

  He gathered her close. ‘I love you so much. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it earlier. I must have hurt you so much by leaving you in Paris like that—and then when I came to see you at the dower house. I was so shocked in the change in you. I thought I’d lost you for ever, that I’d changed you for ever.’

  Poppy rested her head against his chest. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to belong to someone who loved her. She felt it in his touch, in his gaze, in the strong, protective shelter of his arms. ‘It was so hard to be like that with you. I’m surprised you didn’t see through it. I was sure you would call my bluff. But you’re here now, that’s all that matters.’

  He lifted her face to press a lingering kiss to her mouth. ‘How do you feel about living at the manor?’

  Her face lit up with excitement. ‘Do you mean it?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘It’d be a perfect home for a family, don’t you think?’

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. ‘It would be a dream come true.’

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from His Ring Is Not Enough by Maisey Yates

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  CHAPTER ONE

  “IT’S OFFICIALLY TIME to panic.” Leah Holt finished reading her sister’s text message and looked up at her father.

  The expression on his face could only be described as shock, and Leah really couldn’t blame him. She felt the same way. Everyone was here. Everything was planned. The decorations were in place, the cake was made. The media had been alerted and was out in full force. The groom was present and ready.

  And the bride was gone.

  “Why is it time to panic?” her father, Joseph Holt, asked.

  She took a slow breath. She found she didn’t want to tell her father. Didn’t want to expose Rachel to censure. Because as upsetting as the text was, Leah knew Rachel well enough to know she wouldn’t have done this without a very com
pelling reason. “She’s gone. She’s...she’s not coming.”

  “Who is not coming?”

  Leah looked up and her heart stopped. Ajax Kouros had chosen that precise moment to walk into the room, already dressed in a dark tuxedo, perfectly fitted to his masculine physique. He looked as untouchable as ever. A god more than a man.

  Seeing him made her think of summer days at the estate. Of following him around and chatting his ear off. Her sister away at school, her father busy with work, her mother having tea with friends.

  But Ajax had always been there to listen. Her sounding board. The one person she’d felt had understood her.

  A lot of time had passed between then and now. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Not foolish enough to think that a man like Ajax could be interested in her, or what she had to say. And he wasn’t that boy, tanned from working shirtless in the sun.

  He was a billionaire now. One of the world’s most successful businessmen.

  And today was the day he was marrying her sister. And officially gaining control of Holt Industries, along with a hefty piece of her own business, since so many of her shares were owned by her father’s corporation.

  At least, it was supposed to be the day he was marrying her sister and gaining control of Holt.

  But Rachel was gone. Gone and not coming back, if her text was an indication. And it should be, since it said she was gone and not coming back.

  It was so out of character for her bright, beautiful sister. The eternal hostess and darling of the media had never once set a toe out of line. She was always gorgeous and graceful, a walking photo-op.

  So very unlike Leah, who was a walking photo-op for a whole different reason. And the press loved to play it up. Loved to highlight her every shortfall, her every imperfection.

  Leah swallowed hard and met Ajax’s eyes. They were dark, hard. They always had been. Even when he’d been a boy, there had been no laughter there. No lightness. But the darkness was compelling to her, just as it had always been.