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And it had been true. She’d adored him and it wouldn’t have occurred to her to not show it.
But now she envied his emotional detachment and wished she’d kept part of herself back.
If she’d done that, would it hurt less?
Probably not. Despite everything that had happened between them, part of her wanted to take that final step towards him and feel his arms close around her in that decisive, possessive way that had always thrilled her.
And it horrified her that she still felt that way.
She couldn’t be with a man who didn’t trust her, could she? For her, trust was as fundamental as breathing. And she couldn’t be with a man who had such little regard for her feelings. A man who knew her so little.
Did she have no self-respect?
Or was it just that she’d totally underestimated the power of love?
Desperate to interrupt the uncomfortable flow of her thoughts, Faith struggled to make conversation. ‘I didn’t know you had an apartment in Buenos Aires.’
He loosened his top button and jerked at his tie, the intimate confinement clearly affecting him in a similar manner. ‘Sometimes I work late.’
The lift rose smoothly upwards and she stared at the view.
‘It’s stunning.’
‘Actually it’s on the market,’ Raul said stiffly. ‘I’ve discovered that a glass lift isn’t a good choice if you want privacy.’
And Raul was fiercely protective of his privacy, she knew that. This particular billionaire wasn’t about to become public property, and he invested time and effort into keeping his profile as low-key as possible. His extreme wealth had protected their relationship from the intrusion of the outside world.
She’d been spoiled, cosseted, protected and most of the time she hadn’t even been aware of that fact because everything in his life ran so smoothly and discreetly.
His main residence was the Beach House in the grounds of the estancia, ten thousand acres of prime real-estate that stretched from the Atlantic coast of Argentina into the grasslands. Under Raul’s watchful eye, his dedicated staff, which had once included her, bred and trained polo ponies, and the estancia was the first port of call for the super-wealthy who enjoyed that particular sport.
With typical flare and vision, Raul had tapped into a market where the very, very rich would pay for the privilege of receiving the very best polo instruction and advice on the purchase of a string of ponies, safe from the prying eyes of the world’s press. It also allowed Raul to indulge his daredevil streak—as one of the country’s most daring polo players, he thrived on the thrilling adrenalin rush of the game.
But the stud-farm was only a small part of an empire that encompassed hotels, finance and export. Applauded by the financial pages of the world’s newspapers for his astonishing vision, Raul had diversified sufficiently to ensure that any change in the markets would have no effect on the overall profitability of his business.
The lift doors opened and Raul strode out, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. After a moment’s hesitation Faith followed, knowing that if she didn’t do so voluntarily, he’d simply haul her out himself.
The penthouse apartment spread over the top of the building, a dazzling, soaring living-space designed to give the occupant breathtaking views over Buenos Aires.
‘It is stunning,’ she muttered weakly. ‘Another world.’ And at that moment she almost laughed at herself.
It was another world. The world he lived in. How had she ever thought she could just step into his life with no problems?
A frown touching his strong, dark brows, Raul turned his head and stared out of the window, as if the view wasn’t something he’d noticed before. ‘It’s a city.’
His reply was so rigidly polite that Faith felt as though she was on a blind date with a stranger. ‘If you didn’t buy it for the view, why did you choose it?’
He gave a careless lift of his broad shoulders, as if he considered it an odd question. ‘I needed somewhere to shower and change in between meetings. And it’s an investment.’
He was standing still but she could feel the energy pulsing from every centimetre of his powerful frame. She’d never met anyone as driven as Raul. ‘Does money come into every decision you make?’
‘Not always.’ His charcoal-dark eyes locked on hers, his gaze boldly explicit and she understood the unspoken message in that one blistering look.
If he’d been thinking about money, he wouldn’t have chosen her.
Looking at him now, at the careless arrogance he wore with the same ease as his expensive clothes, she wondered how she’d ever felt comfortable with him.
Everything about him screamed power and success but on top of that he possessed a raw, dominant sexuality that had always rendered her breathless.
