Awakening His Innocent Cinderella

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘Nothing is better than Alex’s roses,’ she declared loyally. ‘This place is too huge. It’s beautiful, but it’s not a home. The Villa Rosetta is a home—you can sense the love in it.’

  Her genuine words touched a raw spot and he refrained from replying by guiding her into the reception hall. A liveried waiter stepped forward with a gleaming silver tray laden with tall champagne flutes.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t want a drink?’ Rafe teased her.

  She shook her head. He passed on the offer as well and walked her further into the room so she could appreciate the gold and marble interior. Her breathy gasps delighted him and he kept walking, aware of heads turning. He carefully avoided eye contact with a couple of the models due at the villa tomorrow. He didn’t want to be interrupted yet. Grace’s face was fascinatingly mobile and it was impossible for her to hide her reactions. Captivated, he pointed out more of the various features—from the tumbling crystal chandeliers to the sparkling waterfall in the centre of the room. But she saw some of the people looking their way and definitely recognised some.

  ‘Famous people,’ she noted quietly. ‘Rich people.’

  ‘Rich and famous people.’ He nodded.

  ‘A Venn diagram of the upper echelon.’ She nodded. ‘And just one outside the circle.’

  ‘Is that one feeling self-conscious?’

  ‘Absolutely. But she’s absolutely determined to get over herself.’

  He laughed, liking her frankness.

  ‘Pleasure to see you here, Rafe.’ Toby Winters, a party-hard aristocratic banker with a vast holiday estate on the lake, interrupted them loudly. ‘I heard work on Villa Rosetta is complete. Welcome to the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said calmly. ‘Julia, lovely to see you.’

  Julia, Toby’s wife, was too busy looking Grace over to bother answering. Besides, Toby had intervened again.

  ‘You’re racking up quite the portfolio,’ Toby said. ‘I envy your energy.’

  Rafe smiled but tuned into the conversation that was occurring about a foot lower than his eye level, where Julia was interrogating his fish-out-of-water guest.

  ‘I’m only here because he made me come,’ Grace said.

  Oh, Lord. Did she have any idea how that husky comment was going to be interpreted?

  Grace had offered Julia a disarming smile, but Julia wouldn’t disarm in any way.

  ‘He made you?’ Julia’s eyebrows might have risen had her forehead not been fixed in place by the poison she’d injected beneath her skin.

  ‘I’m working for him.’ Grace blushed. ‘C-currently... Just for...’ She trailed off.

  Rafe gritted his teeth to stay serious.

  ‘You work for Rafe?’ Julia asked archly.

  Grace, in her oblivious innocence, nodded.

  ‘Yes.’ Julia raked Grace over from head to toe with a frigid glare. ‘I can see exactly in what capacity you work for him.’

  Because Grace didn’t look like a PA or a secretary or a housekeeper or even a gardener. Julia grabbed her husband’s arm and all but dragged him away. Grace turned shocked eyes on Rafe, her pretty skin now stained scarlet.

  ‘She thinks I’m...’

  She couldn’t bring herself to say it. And she was blushing again. Rafe threw his head back and laughed. She was stunned at Julia’s interpretation. That meant she was even more naive and innocent than he’d already suspected. In her skirt and floral shirt she’d looked sweetly gorgeous. In the killer white dress she looked both voluptuous and shy and it made for a mouth-watering combination. But he wanted to ease her embarrassment now. So he opted to tease.

  ‘A paid escort?’ He nodded. ‘I believe so. You were the one who answered the question.’

  ‘It’s this dress.’ She put her hand up to hide that glorious cleavage. ‘I told you it was indecent.’ She paused as a thought struck her and she blinked rapidly. ‘Why would they think you would require the services of a paid escort?’

  The compliment hidden in there was so unguarded it made it all the more touching. Something was seriously wrong with him. He could not be going crazy with lust for some random woman he’d found wandering in his garden...

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he answered idly. ‘You weren’t exactly keen on being my date. I had to pressure you to come.’

  And, yes, he’d meant her to catch that lame double entendre that Julia had already picked up on. He’d like nothing more than to make Grace come.

  She flushed even more beautifully. ‘Because I don’t know you. Anyway, you didn’t ask me because you wanted to date me. You wanted to pay me back for ruining your suit.’

  ‘Did I?’

  She stared up at him, her eyes melting. ‘Stop it. You’re an appalling flirt. It’s like you can’t help yourself.’

  Right now it seemed he couldn’t. ‘Who says I’m flirting?’

  Rafe watched Grace roll her eyes with outlandish expressiveness and then she glanced past him. ‘I’m hungry. Isn’t there any food?’

  ‘People are here to be seen, not to scoff.’

  ‘Heaven forbid they be seen munching.’ She looked about some more before a small pout of disappointment drew his attention to her lips. ‘I think I’ll have a drink after all.’

  He signalled a passing waiter and lifted a flute of champagne off the tray for her. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘One won’t hurt me.’

  More people came over—offering congratulations and conversation, soliciting his attention and seeking to satisfy their own curiosity. Grace was oddly quiet as he chatted, offering only a nod as he introduced her to them as his friend. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting how swiftly the champagne was disappearing from her glass. She was sipping to stop herself from speaking, he just knew it. And the sparkle in her eyes was growing brighter by the second. Turning abruptly, he excused them both from the company and walked her towards the open doorway for some fresh air.

  ‘They all want something from you.’ Grace drained the last drop from the crystal flute. ‘Honestly, they were all over you like some hideous disease. Every last one, sucking up.’

  He was the one wanting to suck up. He couldn’t take his eyes from her mouth and he really needed to get a grip. ‘Everybody wants something from me. Attention. Money,’ he said dryly. Everything always came back to money. And he was under no illusion that if he had none, those people wouldn’t come within fifty feet of him.

  ‘I don’t want either of those things,’ she said cheerfully.

  No, it seemed she might not. But maybe he could make her change her mind on the attention front.

  ‘Let’s go look at the lake. It must be fireworks time soon.’ She walked out the wide-flung doors but came to an abrupt halt on the patio. ‘Who’s that guy?’ she whispered loudly, nodding her head in the direction of a tall, grey-haired man icily glaring at Rafe from further along the marble patio.

  Rafe met the man’s stare for a second, then deliberately turned away. ‘No one important.’

  Maurice Butler would never again have any importance in his life.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ She smothered a laugh. ‘If looks could kill, you’d both be dead.’

  ‘He’s a business acquaintance,’ he lied.

  ‘Really?’ She shot him a look. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Look at the lanterns.’ He pointed in the opposite direction.

  He wanted to be alone with Grace, all his attention on her and her attention only on him.

  ‘But he’s coming over. He looks like he wants to talk to you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t wish to talk to him.’ Rafe firmly took her hand and walked her down to the lakefront.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  The lights were reflected in her eyes and flickered across her face. She was so pretty. Sinful whispers swirled in his head, all
the things he’d do to her, with her, for her. All the things he probably shouldn’t.

  ‘You’re using me to avoid talking to anyone else,’ she noted as they walked to the water’s edge.

  ‘Yes. It’s working well.’

  ‘Why did you bother coming at all if you didn’t want to talk to them?’

  ‘To be seen.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because I’m here and they can’t ignore that fact.’

  ‘You have history with these people? With that man?’

  He hesitated for a moment, but what did it matter if she knew? ‘That man you just asked about is my nephew. I heard he wanted to buy the villa. Unfortunately for him, I was the successful bidder.’

  ‘Your nephew?’ She turned around to stare again at the man still standing on the patio just outside the wide-open doors. He knew she was processing the vast age difference. Maurice was thirty-two years older than he.

  ‘You wanted to beat him more than you actually wanted the home?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  ‘No, I wanted the villa.’ He turned to look out at the water so he didn’t have to see anyone from the family who’d made his life hell. ‘I always wanted the villa.’

  He didn’t know why he’d admitted that to her—he presented it to everyone as the requisite luxury Italian holiday home string to his property portfolio.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘Childhood dream,’ he muttered dryly. Thing was, it was true. He’d wanted it all his life. But it seemed the joke was on him. Walking into that villa this afternoon, he’d only felt emptier than ever.

  ‘But you also enjoyed stealing it from under your nephew’s nose,’ she added shrewdly.

  Rafe smiled bitterly. He had, of course. Blocking Maurice’s interest in the villa had been a bonus point in the transaction.

  ‘You’re clearly not close.’

  ‘Clearly not.’ He straightened, determined to dismiss this conversation.

  The fact that the villa had come with a pretty nymph in the garden was the one highlight of the day. He wasn’t squandering the possibilities by getting bogged down in the past now. ‘I didn’t bring you along to have you pry into my personal life,’ he said lazily, slipping back into Lothario mode. ‘Entertain me another way.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re one arrogant ass, you know that?’

  He did, actually. But he wasn’t used to his dates calling him on it—at least, not quite so soon in his acquaintance. And never with amusement—it was with anger that they’d hurl that insult at him. Frankly, right now he was using his vast experience of arrogance to keep her burgeoning curiosity at bay. He hadn’t brought her along to talk to him about those things but to look at and to laugh with and, yes, possibly explore the sensual promise he’d felt flare between them from the second they’d met. But he liked that she called him on it.

  Struggling with conflicting emotions, he took a hurried couple of paces to catch up to her. ‘I’m sorry.’ He caught her hand in his and fell into step. ‘That was rude. I was uncomfortable talking about him. I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘That’s totally fair enough. But you could have just said that and I’d have respected it.’

  ‘Would you?’ he asked pointedly.

  She looked at him for a moment and then grinned sheepishly. ‘I am hopelessly curious about people, so probably not.’

  He grinned back, refreshed again by her candour. ‘You’re this curious about everyone?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘People fascinate me.’

  That response was stupidly flattening, because he knew it was the truth. That was why she knew the gardener’s life story, why she knew the history of the village. Grace James was one of those rare people who was genuinely nice. Interested in other people, in their stories and their lives. But why be so interested—what was lacking in her own life?

  ‘People find you fascinating too,’ he said.

  She laughed at that. ‘No. No, they don’t. And don’t feel you have to flatter me by arguing the point. Oh, look!’

  He followed the direction of her deliberate distraction. Sure enough, she was watching other people again. He frowned at the scene going on at the edge of the palazzo’s private beach. A proposal no less. The fool was on bended knee, there was a trio of musicians and inevitably there was a guy with a camera filming the whole thing. Thankfully it only took a few moments.

  Rafe watched Grace as she watched the happy couple kiss.

  ‘Public proposals are so vain,’ he muttered.

  ‘You’re calling them out for being vain?’ She laughed mischievously and sent him a look from beneath her thick lashes. ‘I think it’s romantic. With all those lights on the water, and the warm breeze and the full moon and the music...it’s perfect. They’ll never forget it.’

  ‘Of course they won’t, because it’s all been filmed for posterity. No doubt an edited clip will be uploaded onto the Internet before the night is over.’ He shook his head. ‘Such moments should be private. Not for show.’

  ‘Why, Rafael.’ She turned to face him, her eyes and skin illuminated by the soft warm glow of a hundred floating lanterns. ‘You’re a romantic.’

  ‘I’m what?’ he asked, startled.

  ‘A romantic,’ she marvelled triumphantly.

  ‘No.’ He tapped her on the nose with his finger. ‘I meant making a mistake like that should definitely be kept private.’

  ‘A mistake?’

  ‘Marriage,’ he growled.

  ‘Of course you’re against marriage. It would narrow the field too much for you.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he agreed wickedly. ‘Life’s too short to settle down and be with just one person for ever. How boring.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, you’re easily bored. You’re a billionaire with a feeble imagination.’

  ‘Trust me, my imagination is all good.’

  She shook her head and turned back to the couple. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s boring at all.’

  ‘You’re the romantic,’ he said. Of course she was. ‘You know it never works out,’ he said softly.

  She looked back at him with amused speculation in her eyes. ‘Are you talking of your own relationships?’

  ‘Anyone’s. Everyone’s.’

  ‘So, let me guess...’ She studied him impishly. ‘You’re never getting married. Never having children.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ He half laughed.

  ‘Because your parents weren’t happily married?’

  ‘My parents weren’t married at all,’ he said simply.

  ‘And you think that’s scandalous in today’s world?’ She grinned. ‘What do you think having unmarried parents means?’

  ‘That I’m a bastard.’ He winked at her. ‘You have officially been warned.’

  ‘You do know that lots of kids are born out of wedlock and lots of people divorce.’

  He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the stats. But his family situation had some extra spice that hadn’t stilled the gossips’ tongues. ‘My father was over seventy when I was born. I have nephews almost twice my age. My half-siblings were not impressed when my mother and I came along.’ And he shouldn’t be talking about this.

  ‘They made life tough for you both?’

  Tougher than this pretty nymph could ever imagine. It wasn’t just the age gap between his parents but the education, background, social status...everything and everyone had made life tough. Especially for his mother. What they’d done to her he’d never forget, or forgive.

  ‘Did your parents love each other?’ she asked softly.

  And there it was, that romantic nature of hers. The truth would crush all her idealistic dreams. ‘You think that love could possibly make a difference?’ He forced a laugh.

  ‘So handsome yet so cynical.’ She sighed.
‘Such a shame.’

  He leaned closer, playing up so he could forget the past. ‘Handsome is a win, though, right?’

  ‘A very small one,’ she said, flattening him again.

  But he’d seen the gleam in her eyes.

  ‘Not that small.’ He couldn’t resist any more and put his hands on her waist. ‘You’re going to deny we have chemistry?’

  ‘It’s probably because we’re polar opposites.’

  That she didn’t deny it surprised him all over again. He’d been expecting playful outrage and a pout. Instead, he just got a steadying hand on his chest and an assessing look.

  ‘You’re crazy good looking,’ she said, her gaze narrowing on him. ‘Like, not-of-this-earth good looking. And confident. So I’m guessing you know what you’re doing when it comes to women. And I know I’m nothing like the women you usually bring along to these things. Given how much you like women, you probably would try anything once. For the novelty factor.’

  ‘Are you suggesting I’m not discerning?’ He couldn’t decide whether to be pleased by her compliment about his looks or insulted by her assumption that he lacked pickiness when it came to women. But then he realised it wasn’t only him she was insulting. ‘And don’t denigrate yourself.’

  She looked up at him, that impish light flickering in her eyes. ‘Oh, I’m not. But let’s be honest, I’m not your type. Everyone here knows it. That’s why they’re staring.’

  He didn’t like the thought that he was predictable enough to have a ‘type’, even though he knew he did. ‘That’s not why they’re staring.’

  They were staring because she was a breath of fresh air—basically barefoot in those flimsy sandals, with her white dress gleaming in the light and her skin glowing in the radiance of all those lanterns. She was stunning. He—like the rest of them—couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  She, however, didn’t appear to suffer the same problem when it came to him.

  ‘There’s a boat coming.’ She craned her neck to peer past his shoulder. ‘Everyone is walking over. Do you know who’s on board?’

  He didn’t know, didn’t care. Just wanted her eyes on him again.

  ‘This party is non-stop drama,’ she said. ‘Are your “elite” events always like this?’