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He frowned, frustration biting at him. Had she taken work abroad simply to get away from his attentions? It was likely—and he feared it was so.
Thoughts swirled within him. Should he simply accept, heavily, that what he wanted was impossible? Should he simply relinquish her to the sterile, lonely world she wanted to go on living in? That sad, isolated place she lived her life in—alone and solitary.
But every sentiment within him rebelled at such defeat.
No! I can’t let her do it to herself! I can’t let her shut out the emotions, the physical joy, that should be hers! If she is haunted by her past I will exorcise it for her! I will rescue her from her isolation...her bleak, sad, self-imposed prison.
And in doing so he knew he would find a joy that only she could give to him.
He sat forward energetically, with renewed vigour. He would not—could not—let Celeste languish without making one final attempt to reach her. Convince her that he could bring a joy to her that would free her from her lonely life.
He leant forward, picking up his phone to speak to his PA. Seeking out Celeste one last time would mean a long flight and clearing his diary ruthlessly.
But he would do it.
To win Celeste, Rafael was fast coming to realise, he would do a great deal.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CELESTE CRANED HER neck to look out of the tiny porthole. The plane was banking, bringing into view plunging cliffs lapped by the deep cobalt of the Pacific, vividly contrasting with the verdant green of the island ahead. She felt a little rush of pleasurable anticipation. It was an extravagance, she knew, coming here for a fortnight’s holiday to this tiny Hawaiian island after the hectic shoot on Oahu, but she didn’t care.
The other models had chosen to stay on at the large, lively Oahu hotel, but Celeste had opted for this small—if fearsomely expensive!—luxury resort on an island so small its airstrip could only take propeller-powered planes. She didn’t want nightlife and entertainment and crowds—she wanted peace and quiet and the awe-inspiring beauty of Hawaii.
And when the deluxe SUV delivered her and the other incoming guests to the hotel she knew she had made the right choice. Her breath caught as she walked into the wide, open-air atrium of the low hacienda-style green-roofed hotel. A refreshing fountain tinkled at its stone-tiled centre, and beyond, framed by sprays of vivid crimson bougainvillaea, was a fabulous vista of lush verdant gardens, leading down to the sea beyond. She stood entranced, the delicate blossoms of her welcoming lei around her neck, drinking it all in, her eyes alight with wonder and pleasure.
Half an hour later, checked in and unpacked in her room—which might have been the cheapest in the resort but was still absolutely beautiful, with its little balcony overlooking the gardens at the side of the hotel—and having anointed her pale skin with the sunblock that was obviously going to be essential when she was outdoors in daytime, she headed out.
Delight filled Celeste as she walked down towards the beach past the azure freeform swimming pool, through landscaped gardens. Little paths meandered past rivulets and miniature waterfalls, lush with verdure and foliage, and vivid white and pink and red flowers grew everywhere, with sweeping beds of birds of paradise and other exotic blooms she could only guess at. It was hot, but not oppressively so, with a light, fresh breeze off the ocean.
As she arrived at the silken-sanded beach an attendant glided forward to usher her to a parasol-shaded lounger, arranging the towels and headrest for her. Gratefully she settled herself down, accepting his offer of a refreshing fruit juice and iced water. Moments later she was sipping as she gazed, entranced, out over the dark blue ocean, which was lapping the soft sand with gentle waves. A sense of peace enveloped her. She was away from everything else in her life—away from the clatter and noise of London, away from her work, from the frenetic pace of the fashion world.
