Illegitimate Tycoon (16 page)

 
          
They
dozed. Then they woke to explore each other at leisure in the dark of the
night.

 
          
They
made love again, slowly, drawing it out until they couldn’t stand the wait
another moment.

 
          
And
somewhere in the wee hours of the morning they finally fell asleep in each
other’s arms.

 
          
Leila
came awake slowly, caught somewhere between lusty dreams of Rafael and that
state of confusion of not quite remembering the day, the time. His spicy scent
clung to her skin, to the bed coverings, proving their sex had been real.

 
          
She
stretched in the bed and turned to Rafael, her body protesting the workout. Her
welcoming smile vanished as she stared at the empty bed.

 
          
Memories
of March rushed back to her, of him leaving their bed without a goodbye.
Without even a damned note.

 
          
Her
hand swept over the pillow and over the place he would have slept. It was cool.
The suite was quiet and dark.

 
          
He wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t leave her like
this again. Would he?

 
          
And
then she heard it. The creak of a chair in the salon.

 
          
She
scrambled from the bed, gathering the bedsheet as she did. Her heart felt as if
a vise were squeezing it. She had to remind herself to breathe.

 
          
Leila
stepped from the bedroom and scanned the salon. She sagged against the
doorjamb, nearly weak with relief.

 
          
Rafael
sat at the desk, his fingers flying over the silent touch pad on his innovative
laptop. He wore khaki shorts and nothing else. His hair was mussed. The broad
bronzed width of his shoulders racked tight as he concentrated.

 
          
“What
time did you get up?” she asked.

 
          
He
whipped around, seeming startled that she was there. “An hour or so ago. I
received an urgent text regarding the integrated graphics on the new phone.”

 
          
She
knew from the early days of their marriage that he’d spend long hours poring
over such problems. She knew, too, that he would not rest until he’d found a
solution.

 
          
“You’ll
be busy working all day, then,” she said, disappointed to have their last day
in France disrupted.

 
          
“No.
I have isolated the problem and sent details back to my manager already.”

 
          
“Wonderful.”

 
          
His
response was a clipped nod.

 
          
The
awkward moment stretched out when she wondered at his thoughts, when concern
skipped along her nerves. “Is something wrong?”

 
          
He
frowned, his gaze sweeping down her body. But when his eyes met hers again, she
couldn’t read anything in their glittering black depths.

 
          
“Would
you like me to order room service?”

 
          
“Please,
I’m hungry.”

 
          
He
pushed to his feet and padded toward her, his stride long and graceful. This
time a slow smile curved the beautifully chiseled contour of his mouth. “Do you
have anything scheduled this afternoon?”

 
          
She
shook her head as a different hunger swelled within her. “Nothing. Do you have
something in mind?”

 
          
He
leaned over her and trailed one finger along her cheek, across her lips. She
tipped her head back as that same finger glided down her throat.

 
          
“I
want to make love with you,” he said, tugging the sheet free.

 
          
Before
it hit the ground, she was in his arms.

 
          
That’s
where she stayed for the rest of the afternoon. In bed. On the sofa. In the
shower.

 
          
They
ate a light breakfast, feeding each other. They played, they laughed and they
loved. And when the afternoon bled into night, Leila mourned that this week
with Rafael was now over.

 
          
And
she dreaded what tomorrow’s parting would bring.

 
          
Leila
walked down the hall toward their room on a wave of giddy excitement. The
festival ended tonight with the awards ceremony, and she knew that Rafael was
exceptionally proud of Nathaniel for winning the prized trophy for his
directing of
Carnival
.

 
          
It
was a total departure from the films Nathaniel had starred in thus far. The
indie film was also the first one made by Nathaniel’s and Rafael’s fledgling
production company formed in order to make this movie, a gritty urban thriller
set in Rio.

 
          
The
rags-to-riches flick had left Leila shaken and stunned, for the film spoke to
her deeply as she, too, had started with nothing, escaping poverty in the
favelas
.

 
          
It
also confirmed that she and Rafael had something profoundly in common, for only
someone who understood the plight of the desperately poor Brazilians trapped in
the violent slums could depict the raw emotion and angst on film with such
heart-wrenching detail. It made her love Rafael even more.

 
          
She’d
longed to quiz him on the details but she held back when he waved aside any
accolades as they had left the theater. If he didn’t wish to talk about how he
knew exactly how life in the slums were, she would not press him.

 
          
“I
just contributed money,” Rafael said when congratulated for the award. “Nathaniel
did all the work.”

 
          
An
exaggeration she was sure. But since he declined attending the many parties
that would reign on the yachts and in the clubs up and down La Croisette until
the wee hours of the morning, all touting the brilliance of the film, she kept
her questions to herself.

 
          
As
Nathaniel and his wife did the same, even bowing gracefully out of having
dinner with them tonight, she was even more sure that this movie had a far
deeper and personal meaning for the half brothers. That alone troubled her, for
it made her wonder what their childhood had really been like.

 
          
Rafael
had never divulged much, even when she’d asked. She certainly wasn’t about to
pry now, for he’d been in an odd mood since the film ended.

 
          
And
in truth, she was relieved that Rafael hadn’t made other arrangements for them
tonight. She longed to return to their room, to spend this final night with him
alone like they had last night. But she dreaded that he would press her for her
decision on a family again, and that this might be the end of their marriage.
She simply couldn’t deal with that now.

 
          
She
chanced a peek at him and her breath caught. The chiseled lines of his face
seemed more intense, his eyes darker and more troubled. Was he thinking that
their idyll was drawing to an end too?

 
          
God
knew the precious moments in Rafael’s arms were without compare for her. There
just hadn’t been enough of them at this festival. Now it was nearly over, and
she couldn’t ignore that niggling of doubt that he was already pulling away
from her.

 
          
“So
what are your plans after the festival?” she asked, sliding her long silk scarf
from around her neck and letting it trail behind her.

 
          
“There
are things I need to attend to in Brazil,” he said, closing the door behind
him, shutting out the world again, shutting them in for one last night.

 
          
She
faced him then, noting the tension that had gripped him during the film was
still in force, still creating an invisible wall between then. “More trouble
with your business?”

 
          
“No,
that’s under control now.” He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and flung it on
a chair, his expression as taut as the tension now humming in the room. “I’ve
neglected the
fazenda
of late.”

 
          
He
owned a farm? In the early days of their marriage that was all he’d talked
about—building a home for them away from the city. A place where they could
escape the rigors of their careers. Where they could raise a family in peace.

 
          
It
had been the dream she’d held as well, until she’d lost their child. Until she’d
realized that the hope of having a real family might be far beyond her reach.

 
          
“You’ve
bought a house, then?” she asked, trying to sound conversational and light when
she was hurt that he’d never told her he’d moved forward with their dream home.
“Tell me about it.”

 
          
He
crossed to the balcony and threw open the door to admit the welcoming
salt-tinged breeze. “The land is rich and producing fine crops, and the staff
is smaller but above par. I trust you will approve.”

 
          
“I’m
sure I will,” she said, then wondered when she’d get the chance to go.
Certainly not in the next month or so.

 
          
He
glanced back at her, his smile relaxed, though there was a pensive set to his
mouth that kept her from feeling at ease. “It is a typical farm
casa
with large airy rooms. There is
space for you to have an office if you wish. I had one built for my needs.”

 
          
“Ultrahigh-tech?”

 
          
“It
is what I do,” he said with pride.

 
          
And
her own pride stung, for while he would never give up his career or even
partial control of it, he expected her to embrace full-time motherhood.

 
          
She
waited for him to go on, to tell her more about the house he’d dreamed of
building one day for them. Of the bedroom they’d share, and the nursery he was
intent on filling.

 
          
But
he simply resumed his study of the sea, both hands braced on the jamb, his
white shirt stretching tight over his muscular back. And maybe that was for the
best, for the last thing she wanted to do now was engage in another discussion
about starting their family.

 
          
Leila
pulled her scarf through her hand again and again as unease crackled along her
nerves. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

 
          
“Seven
in the morning.”

 
          
Her
plane didn’t depart until eleven. Though she’d hoped they could travel to the
airport together, she didn’t wish to spend hours there waiting for her flight.

 
          
“I
suppose you should get some rest now,” she said, feeling awkward when she
longed to blurt out her needs.

 
          
“I
can sleep on the plane,
querida.”
He
turned to face her this time, and the need in his gaze reached out to her,
stroked her desire and sent a hum of want crashing through her.

 
          
She
shook her head, afraid this easy mood would be broken. “Good, because I need
you tonight.”

 
          
“And
I need you, Leila,” he said, his smile sad. “I hope one day you’ll realize just
how much.”

 
          
Leila
walked up to him, noting the catch in his breath, the flaring of his nostrils,
the darkening tinge on his cheeks. She looped her scarf around his neck and
gave it a tug, and passion exploded in his dark eyes.

 
          
“Show
me how much,” she said, giving the scarf a hard tug.