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‘Who lives here?’ she asked.
‘For the next few days, you and me and the usual number of complementary staff. It used to belong to an Austrian countess. I’m toying with the idea of buying it, making this my permanent base.’
She faced him in surprise. ‘You’re considering leaving León?’
He shrugged, seeming carefree, but his expression was shuttered. ‘I haven’t really lived full time in León for a very long time. It won’t be a big deal.’
‘Have you discussed it with Marco and Sasha? Won’t they mind?’
‘They’d be relieved not to have an invalid cluttering up the place, I expect.’
She suspected his brother and wife thought nothing of the sort but chose not to express that opinion. ‘But...it’s your home. Won’t you miss it?’
‘It’s only bricks and mortar, bonita.’
Realising he meant it, she frowned. ‘Is there a place you actually call home?’
Raven was unprepared for the darkness that swept over his features. In a blink of an eye it was gone, his face restored to its rugged, breathtaking handsomeness that set so many female hearts aflutter whenever the spectacular Rafael de Cervantes made an appearance.
‘Rafael?’ she probed when he remained silent.
‘A long time ago, I did. But, like everything else in my life, I trashed it completely and utterly. Now—’ he pushed the door of the limo open, stepped out and held out a hand for her ‘—come in and tell me what you think. I read somewhere that a woman’s opinion is priceless when choosing a house, especially a woman you’re not sleeping with. Personally, I disagree with that assertion but I’ve been known to be wrong once or twice.’
She managed to hold her tongue until the trio of staff who greeted them at the door had taken up their luggage. The minute they were alone, she faced Rafael in the large open style living room, which had an exquisitely moulded ceiling that extended over two floors. Once again—and she was beginning to notice a pattern—the room consisted mostly of windows, although this villa had a few solid walls.
‘What did you mean when you said you’ve trashed everything in your life?’ she asked.
He flung his walking stick into the nearest chair and made his way slowly towards her. Stopping a mere foot away, he glanced down at her.
‘I was hoping you’d forgotten that.’
‘I haven’t, and I don’t really think you meant me to.’
His smile was fleeting, poignant, and barely touched his eyes. ‘I guess my probing on the plane makes you feel you’re entitled to a certain...reciprocity?’
‘No, I don’t. I shared a little of my past with you because I wanted to. You don’t have to feel obliged to return the favour but I’d like to know all the same.’
‘Tell me what you think of the villa first.’
Her gaze took in the various OTT abstract art and cutting edge sculptures and high-spec lighting and shrugged. Every item in the room shrieked opulence a little too loudly. ‘I like it but I don’t love it. I think it’s trying too hard to be something it’s not. I don’t think it suits you.’
He glanced around at the plush leather chairs and carefully placed art and sculptures, the high-tech gadgets and priceless rugs.
‘Hmm, you could be right. Although that single armchair looks perfect for...de-stressing.’
‘Answer my question, Rafael. Why don’t you have a home any more?’
His smile dimmed slowly until only raw, untrammelled pain reflected in his eyes. He held his breath for a long, interminable moment, then he slowly exhaled. ‘Because, querida, everything that meant a damn to me went up in a ball of flames eight years ago.’
CHAPTER FIVE
THE GLITTERING BALLROOM of the Hôtel de France had been redesigned to look like a car showroom, albeit a very expensive car showroom, complete with elaborately elegant priceless chandeliers.
A vintage Bentley MkVI Donington Special from Rafael’s own car collection gleamed beneath a spotlight in the centre of the room.
Raven stood to one side as guests continued to stream in from the Automobile Club de Monaco where the X1 All-Star event had kicked off with an opening by the resident head of the Monégasque royal family.
Glancing at the door, she caught sight of Rafael as he chatted to the head of one of the largest car manufacturers in the world. Dressed in a black tuxedo with the customary studded shirt and bow tie, it was the most formal she’d seen him. The sheer stomach-clenching magnetism he exuded made her clutch her champagne flute harder to stem the fierce reaction that threatened to rock her off her feet.
