“I didn’t. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”
The words tumbled out before my brain could catch up and stop them. I hadn't meant to be so honest, but there it was. Ricard's gaze softened as he raised our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
We rose together, still holding hands as we walked to the door. At the threshold, I turned to face him, aware this might be the last time I saw him like this, relaxed, open, just Ricard instead of His Grace the Duke. “Good luck tomorrow,” I said. “With your brother.”
He nodded, seriousness returning. “I’ll need it.”
“And after?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Will you come back to The Ranch?”
Something flickered in his eyes, hope mixed with uncertainty. “I want to. But duty has a way of asserting itself, especially in times of crisis.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest from the idea that he might be gone forever. “Well, if you do come back, I still owe you a Marvel movie marathon.”
Ricard smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Je te tiendrai à ça.When I return.”
Then he leaned forward, capturing my lips in a goodbye kiss, gentle yet filled with a weight that felt like more than just farewell. His hand cupped my cheek, a touch soft as his mouth moved against mine. I leaned into him, memorizing the feel, the taste, the scent of him.
My duke.
When we broke apart, I had to resist the urge to pull him close again, to deepen the kiss into something more, something that might make himstay. Instead, I stepped back, creating space. “Goodbye, Ricard,” I said, voice steadier than I felt.
“Goodbye, Theo,” he replied, gaze holding mine a moment longer before I turned and walked away.
The air felt cooler outside as the sun went down. I walked slowly, in no hurry to get home, my mind buzzing with the afternoon—Ricard’s vulnerability, the comfort of his body against mine, the gentleness of his kiss.
So lost in thought, I almost missed the figure emerging from the shadows of a decorative pergola near the path. A tall, imposing silhouette I recognized immediately.
The Master.
My stomach dropped as he fully stepped into view, expression unreadable in the fading light. “Mr. Bennett,” he said, voice carrying that same authoritative tone that had both intimidated and intrigued me during my interview. “A moment of your time, please.”
Shit. It wasn’t a request. I swallowed hard, nodding. “Of course.”
“Walk with me,” Ibrahim instructed, gesturing toward a side path that led away from the main resort.
I fell into step beside him, my mind racing. Had someone reported seeing me enter Ricard’s villa? Was I about to lose my job? The thought sent a spike of panic through me—not just for my employment, but what it would mean for Casey's care.
We walked in silence for several minutes, following the path through a small grove of trees, before Ibrahim stopped in a clearing, turning to face me. “I understand you spent your afternoon at Villa 6,” he said.
There was no point in denying it. “Yes, sir.”
“With His Grace, the Duke.”
“Yep,” I replied, heart racing.
He regarded me steadily, eyes giving nothing away. “You are aware, I presume, that fraternizing with clients off the clock is against resort policy?”
My heart sank. “I... kinda figured.”
“And yet you chose to go anyway.”
I took a deep breath, deciding honesty was my best recourse. “He asked to see me. He seemed upset. I thought—”
“What you thought is irrelevant, Mr. Bennett,” Ibrahim interrupted, voice calm but with an edge. “The rules exist to protect both our clients and our companions.”
“I hear you,” I said, making myself look him in the eye. “I understand the rules. Won't happen again.”
