by Sarah Morgan
Hating the thought that they’d all made her life so unhappy and finding the whole conversation just about as far from amusing as it was possible to get, Rafael frowned. ‘What?’
‘You think you’re such a hard, bad person but you’re the first and only person who has ever taken the time to go through numbers with me without getting horribly impatient. You spent a whole afternoon teaching maths to someone who just doesn’t get it and not once did you drum your fingers on the table, glare at me or tug at your hair. So stop pretending that you’re just this cold, ruthless money-making machine.’
Startled by her interpretation of his actions, Rafael thought for a moment. ‘I need you to understand the figures. It’s the only way you’ll be able to have a conversation with your father.’
‘Right. Well, you did it in a very nice way, so thank you. You’re a good and patient teacher.’
A good and patient teacher? Wondering what his staff would make of that entirely inaccurate assessment of his qualities, Rafael ran a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly determined to make sure that she knew exactly who she was. ‘You’re making a mistake, Grace. I am a cold, ruthless money-making machine.’
‘No. You’re nothing like that. You have great humanity but you don’t even recognise it yourself any more, because you’ve spent your life with people attached to you like leeches, wanting something from you.’
Wondering why he was still sitting opposite her when the conversation topic was so hugely distant from his comfort zone, Rafael tapped his fingers on the table. ‘You’re talking nonsense because you’re upset about your father.’
‘Maybe. And it’s time I faced up to what needs to be done. Will you arrange for your plane to fly me back to London tomorrow?’
Appalled at the prospect of her leaving, Rafael frowned. ‘I need to be in London in two weeks’ time on business; you can come with me then. We’ll see your father together.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘This is something that I need to do by myself. And I have to do it now. I don’t want to wait any longer. I won’t be able to sleep, worrying.’
Rafael drummed his fingers on the table, wondering why he found her request so disturbing. Never in his life had he felt remotely protective about a woman. ‘You’re not seeing your father on your own.’
‘I have to.’ Her chin lifted and he gritted his teeth, contemplating the amount of work that awaited him.
Work that he’d ignored since the moment Grace Thacker had landed in the rainforest with her high heels and her shiny blonde hair.
‘All right.’ Reluctantly he agreed. ‘You can go home to London. But my plane is going to wait for you at the airport. You see your father, have the conversation you need to have and then come straight back here.’
Surprise lit her eyes. ‘You mean that?’
‘Yes. I want you to come back.’ Why was she looking at him like that? Why wouldn’t he want her to come back when the sex was so incredible?
CHAPTER TEN
TRYING not to be overawed by the luxury that surrounded her, Grace settled into her seat on Rafael’s private jet for the long flight from Rio de Janeiro.
Once the staff had settled her onto the comfortable leather sofa, they presented her with a glass of champagne and a small package, elaborately wrapped, together with a note.
Her hands shaking, she opened the note first. ‘You won’t take gifts or money from me, but I hope you’ll accept this. R.’
“This” turned out to be a tiny tape recorder, small enough to fit into her pocket and with an earpiece. Intrigued and more than a little baffled by his choice of present, she switched it on and heard Rafael’s voice summarising every nuance of the accounts. He covered everything they’d discussed, everything she needed to know and she felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes as she realised just how long it must have taken him to record it and what such a gesture meant.
Maybe he didn’t love her, but he certainly cared. He had to care, otherwise why would he go to so much trouble to help her?
Resolving to see her father so that she could return to the rainforest as soon as possible, she memorised everything on the tape and then slept for the remainder of the flight.
When they finally landed in London it was dark and drizzly and she immediately wished she could climb straight back on the plane and return to the colour and richness of the rainforest.
Leaving the protection of his jet, she was ushered through a private section of the terminal reserved for VIPs and was enjoying the novelty of not having to elbow her way through throngs of stressed-out passengers, when something caught her attention.
Her face.
Staring out of the front of a newspaper.
For a moment she just stood, staring in silence at the picture of herself, and then she gave a soft moan of disbelief.
Appalled, she grabbed at it, reading the caption ‘Cordeiro’s new jungle love—see page 4 for full story.’
Full story? What full story?
Her heart thudding against her chest, she rifled through the pages until she came to the page she wanted.
Brazilian bad boy and billionaire Rafael Cordeiro has been playing jungle games with busty blonde businesswoman Grace Thacker, owner of Café Brazil, a chain of coffee shops with outlets across London and the South East. A recluse since his costly divorce from actress Amber Naverin, Cordeiro was once quoted as saying that women were like garlic: ‘nice at the time but left a bad taste in your mouth the day after.’ Now he seems to be eating his words as he gets close and personal with yet another shapely blonde. According to her father, Patrick Thacker, Grace’s small business is struggling so she’s probably hoping for a generous cash injection from her new lover.
Unable to read any more, Grace stood for a moment, horror engulfing her in great, greedy waves.
Her father had sold the story to the Press. But what story? There was no story. She’d visited Rafael in the rainforest. What else was there to say, what else could they possibly know? Nothing. They’d been on their own, away from everyone. Wasn’t that why he lived there, to escape this sort of thing?
Feeling sick, she forced herself to read the whole article and dropped the paper. Knowing nothing hadn’t stopped them making wildly inaccurate claims designed to sell papers. But since when did anyone care about that?
A hot burst of anger gave way to horror and anxiety. Poor, poor Rafael. Would he think she’d been part of it? Maybe, maybe not, but it was exactly the sort of thing that he hated—part of the reason that he was so disillusioned. The thought that she’d been part of hurting him, even inadvertently, sickened her.
Functioning on automatic, she walked out of the airport towards the taxi rank, forgetting that she was supposed to meet up with Rafael’s chauffeur in London.
Numb with misery and not thinking straight, she slipped into the back of a cab, trying to come to terms with the fact that yet again her father had done his best to hurt her.
Only this time he’d succeeded far better than he’d ever dreamed.
Because she knew that her relationship with Rafael was over. It had to be. What choice did she have? How could she expose him to this sort of scrutiny, knowing how fiercely he guarded his privacy?
Because of her, his name was all over the papers. Again.
And she’d never be able to control that, would she? If she continued her relationship with him, her father would always find some way of making money out of it. That was the sort of person he was.
And she loved Rafael far too much to let that happen.
Three days later, Rafael was pacing the length of the drawing room in his gated mansion, located in the most exclusive part of London.
Normally only a serious crisis in his business would have dragged him from the rainforest before he was ready to leave, but on this occasion he wasn’t thinking about business. He was thinking about Grace.
The moment she’d left, he’d realised that he’d made a mistake letting her go. There was no way sh
e should be confronting her father on her own.
He’d put in a call to his team in London, instructing them to keep her safely at his house until he arrived.
And that was when he’d discovered that she hadn’t been seen since her arrival in London.
Trying to control his mounting temper, he turned again to the man standing nervously by the desk. ‘Are you seriously telling me that she vanished?’
The man licked his lips. ‘That’s right, sir.’
‘But she flew out of Rio on my plane,’ Rafael pointed out in soft, deadly tones, ‘so at what point, exactly, did you manage to lose her?’
The man swallowed. ‘We’re not honestly sure, sir. She was walking through the airport and then suddenly she wasn’t there any more. She vanished.’
Cursing fluently in English and then reverting to his native Portuguese, Rafael thumped his fist onto the table and looked up with exasperation as another of his staff sidled into the room with a newspaper.’ Now what?’
‘We thought you ought to see this, sir.’
Rafael’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t read tabloid newspapers.’
‘I’m aware of that, sir.’ The girl cleared her throat and stepped forward and thrust the newspaper towards him. ‘But I think you’ll want to read this one.’
Grace sat in the little park that was directly opposite the mews house that her father owned.
A week had passed since she’d read the story about herself in the paper and she’d spent the entire time thinking about what she could possibly do or say to make it up to Rafael.
In the end she’d sent a short note of apology and tried not to think of the luxurious private jet that had by now flown back to Rio without her.
Too upset to see her father as she’d planned, she’d checked herself into an anonymous bed and breakfast in an unfashionable part of London instead of returning to her flat. And she’d spent the whole of the last week staring up at the cream-painted ceiling of the small room, trying to work out what to do.
Trying to pull herself together.
It was over. And of course that was disappointing but it had always been going to finish at some point, hadn’t it? Rafael didn’t love her. He didn’t love anyone, so their romantic interlude would have had a limited shelf life.
But none of the phrases going round in her head had offered even the smallest bit of comfort.
And finally the misery had faded and anger had taken its place.
Anger at her father for hurting Rafael.
It was funny, she thought numbly as she sat on the bench in the park, watching a mother strap a toddler into a pushchair, that two weeks ago she’d never even met the man and now here she was, struggling to work out a way of living her life without him.
And she would. Of course she would. She’d move on.
But she wasn’t moving on until she’d spoken to her father.
For the first time in her life she was going to speak up and tell him how she felt. She had to. She had so much anger and hurt boiling up inside her that she didn’t know what to do with it.
With a sigh that held both dread and resignation because she just hated confrontation, Grace stood up, walked across the park and then crossed the road to her father’s house.
Daisy, her father’s cleaner, opened the door. ‘Oh, Miss Thacker, where have you been?’ She looked flustered. ‘Your father’s been so worried …’
Worried about what? That he’d finally been found out? Grace felt a dull ache bloom inside her. ‘Is he in?’
‘Well, yes, he is, but he has a visitor.’ Daisy glanced nervously over her shoulder towards the study. ‘Perhaps you should wait here and I’ll tell him you’re here.’
Grace heard raised voices and her stomach churned with nerves. And then she remembered that newspaper article and the anger rose inside her again. It was time to confront her father and she didn’t care if she did it in public.
It had taken her a week to pluck up courage to come here. If she went away now, she’d never come back.
Ignoring Daisy’s feeble attempts to stop her, Grace walked across the hall and walked straight into her father’s study without bothering to knock.
Registering her father’s white face and blustering attitude, she reflected idly that whoever he was talking to clearly had the upper hand. And then she turned and saw Rafael standing by the fireplace. His dark eyes bright with anger, every inch of his powerful frame simmering with a volcanic fury that heated the room.
What was he doing here?
Concern for him gave way to hideous embarrassment as she remembered the newspaper article and suddenly she wanted to turn and run. And maybe he detected that impulse because he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her hands in his, holding them in an iron grip.
‘You’re not going anywhere—I know you hate confrontation but this is one situation that you’re going to have to face because there are things that need to be said.’
How could she tell him that it wasn’t the confrontation that was scaring her away, it was her guilt and embarrassment at seeing him after everything her father had done? ‘I can understand that you’re angry, but—’
‘You’re right that I’m angry. Never have I been so furious like this and the reason is entirely you.’
Wondering why his English suddenly seemed less than fluent when he was always so enviably eloquent in her language, Grace studied him, thinking that he looked incredibly tired. Had he been working through the night again? ‘You’ve seen it, haven’t you? That awful article. I was upset by it too and—’
‘I’m not talking about the article. Do you really think I care about that? I’m angry because you completely disappeared from the face of the planet for an entire week and no one in the world seemed to know where you were! I’m on the verge of firing my entire London security team for being so inept!’
Her eyes widened. ‘Rafael—’
‘They lost you! I imagined you dead in a gutter somewhere, murdered by some lowlife that you trusted and saw good in …’ His bronzed, handsome face had turned several shades paler and his hands tightened on her arms. ‘Where have you been?’
Still recovering from the shock of seeing him there, Grace didn’t answer for a moment and he gave her a little shake.
‘Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Any idea at all? I’ve had my entire security team pacing the streets of London looking for you for the past week.’
His blistering anger stunned her. ‘You have?’
‘Where were you? My flight crew assured me that you were safely delivered to the airport and then you just vanished. Why?’
Her mouth was dry. ‘I saw the newspaper.’
‘And?’
‘And I just felt dreadful for you,’ she muttered. ‘I was so embarrassed. And so angry with my dad. I just couldn’t face him until I’d had a chance to calm down a bit.’
‘So why didn’t you just fly straight back to Rio and calm down in my forest?’
Wasn’t it obvious? ‘Because there have been enough people in your life willing to sell their story to the papers. You don’t need anyone else like that.’
His incredulous gaze raked her face. ‘You had nothing to do with that story.’
‘You believe that?’ Ridiculously pleased, she gave a wobbly smile. ‘Are you suddenly learning to trust, Rafael?’
His fingers tightened on her arms. ‘No. Well, possibly, but only you,’ he added hastily, drawing her against him. ‘I know that story had nothing to do with you so why on earth did you suddenly go into hiding?’
‘Because you don’t need a man like my dad in your life!’
‘That’s enough from you, young lady!’ Speaking for the first time, her father stepped forward, a scowl on his face. ‘I’ll have some respect when you speak about me. You both seem to have forgotten I’m here!’
She heard Rafael’s sharp intake of breath but she pulled away from him and stepped towards her father. ‘We haven’t forgotten, Dad. Hardly. A
nd as for giving you respect—’ her voice shook as she looked at him, seeing for the first time the mean lines that pulled at his mouth, the coldness of his eyes ‘—respect is something that has to be earned. And you’ve never done that. You’ve never done a single thing in your life to warrant my respect.’
Her father gave a grunt of anger and his shoulders hunched. ‘You watch your mouth, girl! No one talks back to me, especially not my own daughter. You’re not too old for me to put my hand across your backside!’
Rafael stepped forward with a low growl of warning. ‘Lay one finger on her and I’ll send you somewhere you’ll never need money again,’ he promised in thickened tones and Grace put a hand on his arm in an instinctive gesture of restraint.
‘You’re not going to stop me from saying what needs to be said, Dad. I won’t let you threaten me. I’ve had all week to prepare for this meeting and I’ve got things to say to you. And you’re going to listen.’
Her father sneered. ‘Oh, you’re all very big and brave with your Brazilian bodyguard there, aren’t you?’
Grace felt the mounting tension in Rafael’s frame and kept her hand on his arm. ‘You won’t intimidate me. Not this time. Nor will you make me feel guilty. You’ve made a fortune from me. I know exactly how much, to the last penny. You stole from me—your own daughter,’ just saying the words made her want to cry but she forced herself to plough on and say what needed to be said, knowing that if she didn’t say it now then she might never have the courage again, ‘and I’ve finally allowed myself to acknowledge the truth. You are not a good father and you never have been.’
Her father took a step towards her but must have caught something in Rafael’s eyes because he suddenly stopped and simply glared. ‘I did my best for you, Grace. You’ve always been difficult and ungrateful.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I was neither of those things and you did not do your best for me. You did the best for you. You only ever thought about you. At school you didn’t care about helping me, you just cared about your image. About what people would think about you having a daughter who couldn’t even add up. And then when I started the business and I was doing so well, you weren’t proud of me because you didn’t care enough to be proud. You just exploited my weakness and you stripped my business bare. How could you do that, Daddy? How could you?’