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After being fooled by an allegedly Milanese man who wasn’t even Italian, my confidence in myself has hit an all-time low. If I take logic into the equation, and nothing more, Rob is the wrong man for me.
One—he’s famous (although he might not be a household name to tourists who visit Beverly Hills), surrounded by pretty women and the media. I don’t want to be well known—hell, I don’t want to be known at all. One thing could lead to another, and people know people. The last thing I want now is for someone to uncover my past.
Two—he’s rich. Being in the company of men with luxury cars, business empires and personal staff infuses me with unease. Aidan had money—he paid people to follow me, he had powerful contacts that made it almost impossible for me to hide. My trauma has manifested into many things. Nightmares, voices, and behaviors that I’ve programmed into myself, one of which is to stay away from people with wealth. To say all rich men are bad is illogical and stupid.I know. But the fear is real. I’m not ready for a man of Rob’s caliber.
Three—his life is built around the one thing that terrifies me the most after what Aidan did to me: boats.
On the other hand, what if Rob is a once-in-a-century phenomenon? A man who’s come into my life with everything I hoped for? After all, God was really happy when He created him. Rob is definitely not all about those three loathsome things.
One—he reads bedtime stories—and does other brotherly things above and beyond that of an ordinary sibling. If a man is capable of giving that much love to a boy, imagine what he would give to the woman he loves.
Two—his power embraces me. He’s a man I’d want to get close to, to talk about my troubles, triumphs and desires. His gentleness and attention to me is unfeigned, demanding nothing back. He gives, and he gives.
Three—he’s irresistibly humble. The man cooks, just like an ordinary man providing for his family. He makes billions, he owns a mansion next to Valentino, yet he never blabbers about it like a peacock crowing for a mate.
Three nos against three yeses? Go figure!
However, biased though I may be, I have another yes that tips the balance.
I place my hand on my chest.
Four. He gave me his mom’s necklace.
You don’t just hand over a precious piece of jewelry to someone you just met, not even as a token of thanks.
Heat builds up in me, urging me to walk out of this room and run to him. He will take me in his arms—all signs point to it. But I fear that what he’s asking of me is beyond what I can offer right now. I’m willing to meet him halfway, but I doubt there is such a thing. Either you’re in, or you’re out.
I close my eyes, and my heart feels heavy as I try to quash my need to be with him.
With a loud sigh, I shoulder the door shut and throw myself back onto the bed. Bucking my hips, I jiggle my butt to get rid of my pants. Then I sit up, slipping out of my top.
I’ve become seriously parched just listening to myself playing this yes-or-no game.
Water. I need water.
Wearing only Rob’s sweater, I saunter out of my room and head to the kitchen, hoping I remember the way. I’m not expecting anyone around, so I’m stunned to find Rob washing the dishes.
“Hell, you do your dishes by hand? EvenIhave a dishwasher,” I quip.
He tosses me a crooked smile. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”
“You don’t hire cleaners?”
“I do. They come in three times a week. But, hey, I clean up after myself.”
Standing beside him, I pick up a plate from the drying rack and wipe it with a dish towel.
“How many bedrooms are there in this house, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Rob starts scrubbing the fish plate. “Six.”
“It’s a lovely house.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you always been into boating?” I probe, picking up another plate to dry.
“It’s in our blood, from both sides of the family.”
