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No, he had enough money. His money-making days were over now—now was the time to slow down, take a different tack, move his life into a different orbit. Focus more on his work in his own country, improving the living standards of those he had once been one of.
That life would have Celeste in it—always.
But he had to hasten slowly. To declare himself to Celeste now might yet be too precipitate. She had come so far with him—so far from the prison of her lonely, solitary life—but she needed time. Time with him. Time to accept what he was to her—what she, he knew with every twining of their hands, every shared glance, every moment of companionship and intimacy, was to him. Time to be with him not just on holiday but to become part of his life, and for him to become part of hers.
But, however they arranged their lives together from now on, there were practical things to be attended to. They could not stay here on the island for ever. She probably had work commitments ahead of her, which she would want to honour—and he most certainly had his, which he could no longer postpone.
One above all was looming. One he welcomed. It would see justice achieved for someone who deserved it.
In his head he heard the memory of his own voice remonstrating with Madeline about her latest coup—taking over a struggling luxury brand fashion company but firing its founder. Rafael had argued strongly against such ruthless action.
‘You could pay him a royalty—just a small one—or make him an artistic consultant...keep his talent in the company,’ he’d suggested.
Madeline had not listened. ‘Rafe, the man’s a loser! A fool.’ Her voice had been scathing. ‘He should have damn well put the design trademarks in a separate company and kept it private—and he should have looked after his cash flow. Not left himself vulnerable. Now he’s paying for it.’
‘He’s an artist, Madeline, a creative,’ Rafael had pointed out. ‘Naive, possibly, and not good at business, but you own his designs now, and his brand, and with your marketing and financing skills they’ll make you a fortune—you can afford not to hammer him into the ground and take everything he values from him!’
She’d only looked at him. Her deep-set eyes, which could blaze with scorching sexual desire, make him forget everything but sating himself on her lush, threshing body, had taken on a hard diamond brilliance. Her voice had been as hard as her eyes.
‘Sentiment is for losers—and I don’t intend to lose, Rafe. Ever. I’ve done whatever it took to get here, and I’ll go on doing it to get further still. I always have and I always will!’
Had that exchange finally opened his eyes to her? Made him realise that despite what they had in common—their shared talent for winning the good things in life, including each other—they were very different people at heart? Madeline’s ambition drove her to the exclusion of everything else—all other values were cast aside.
Rafael’s eyes steeled. When he had finally discovered just how utterly uncaring Madeline was of anything other than fulfilling her driving ambition for wealth—when he had learnt just what she was prepared to do to achieve those ambitions—it had only finished what had already been dying between them.
And all her scornful derision of his shock and revulsion at her revelations about herself had not been able to revive it! Finally he had seen Madeline without the gloss and allure of the passion that had once burned between them. Seen her for what she was—a woman he could never in a million years consider to be someone he could make his life with.
He would never make that mistake again!
And now his gaze came back to Celeste, nestled against his chest, her beautiful face tender in repose. Emotion welled through him.
