Breaking the Limits: Rafe & Nicole Book 2 (8 page)

‘Your father’s right,’ Rafe interposed, gently. ‘If you wait a few years, you’ll have even more fun. Believe me, I know.’ Titus was too fragile at six, perhaps too indulged as well; he had to be tougher and stronger to stand up to the bullies. ‘If you get bored at home, come visit me for a change.’

‘Can I, can I really? Wow, really, for real?’ Bursting with excitement, the young boy’s gaze whipped back and forth between Rafe and his father.

‘Of course you can,’ Rafe replied without waiting for Gora’s answer. ‘Anytime.’ He glanced at Gora. ‘I’ll hire tutors. He won’t miss anything. Titus should be a little bigger before he goes away to school. Just a suggestion, of course,’ he added, softly. ‘Andrei, would you mind?’ Turning, he held up his empty glass as a flood of cruel memories from his schooldays hit a raw nerve. ‘Make it a double.’ His expression didn’t change, nor the softness of his tone, the raging cluster-fuck in his brain hidden behind a bland mask.

Andrei delivered Rafe’s drink and as he drained it quickly, Andrei signalled for the servers to begin the meal. Andrei had helped raise Rafe. He’d seen enough bruises and scars from the contact sport of survival when Rafe had come home from boarding school on vacation. He recognized that shuttered look.

Seafood antipasto was served first, along with a sparkling Franciacorta Brut Bellavista, followed by a simple linguine parmesan and a wine from the family vineyard on the Croatian coast. With Titus at the table, conversation wasn’t an issue. Familiar with being the centre of attention, he chattered on while the adults responded as needed and quietly carried on their own conversation. Rafe asked about the state of the local vineyard the family owned, Anton’s new sailboat was discussed in some detail, Andrei’s son, who was in medical school in Paris, was the topic of conversation for a time, Andrei beaming as he detailed his son’s successes.

No one asked Nicole any personal questions; she wondered if Rafe had warned them off or they simply knew better than to enquire into their son’s friendships. Although, after her whiskey, and wine with each course, she was more than content to just listen. The family dynamic was warm and cordial, Titus a continual buzz of childhood exuberance.

Rafe’s mother preferred quail for her entrée. Everyone else enjoyed Elena’s version of steak Florentine, with a Conterno Barolo Riserva of incredible beauty and several vegetable side dishes, including pommes frites; another of Rafe’s favourites, apparently. The strawberry trifle, beautifully displayed in small glass tumblers, was served with coffee and grappa.

As they were finishing dessert, Rafe leaned over to speak to Nicole.

‘If you have a moment, Rafe,’ Gora said, anticipating his guests’ early departure. ‘I’d like to see you in my study.’

Rafe’s first impulse was to answer no. ‘Of course,’ he said instead and gave Nicole a nod. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Nicole and I will have our coffee and grappa in the salon while we wait,’ Camelia said, coming to her feet. ‘Bring your trifle if you like, Titus. Ah, thank you Andrei, the carpet was saved. Come, Nicole, you must tell me how you met Rafe. It’s obvious you’ve charmed him completely.’

Following Gora, Rafe was nearly to the hallway when his mother spoke. He spun around. ‘Don’t grill her, Mother.’

Nicole gave her head a little shake. ‘I’m fine, Rafe.’

‘We’re just going to chat.’ Camelia waved him off.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he said, his voice measured.

His mother smiled. ‘Oh dear, that sounds like a warning.’

‘It is. Don’t embarrass me.’

‘I didn’t think that was possible,’ Gora said under his breath, waiting in the doorway for Rafe.

‘Then we’re both surprised,’ Rafe said, equally softly, turning to Gora. ‘I didn’t think you’d be sailing down here.’

‘That’s what we have to discuss.’

Rafe grimaced. ‘As long as it doesn’t take long. Mother’s making me nervous.’

‘She’s never had a female friend of yours to chat with before.’ Gora moved down the hall. ‘Considering your friendships,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘it’s probably for the best.’

‘I don’t think we want to start comparing morals.’

‘Certainly not. I am, however,’ Gora said, opening the door to his study, ‘concerned with the imminent dangers you face. Come in, sit down. I’ll make this brief.’ Gora walked behind his desk, dropped into a green leather chair and unbuttoned his taupe linen sports jacket. ‘A man I hired found those bank account numbers you need.’

‘Christ, that’s great. Thank you.’ Rafe moved to a modern sculpted chair, all Ergo curves in brilliant orange leather, and sat. ‘Anyone I know?’

‘Probably not. A Russian. He’s worth his weight in gold. Literally. That’s his price. Here.’ Gora slid a computer printout across the desk.

‘Fucking A.’ Rafe scanned a list of roughly thirty numbered accounts.

‘As you see, they aren’t all Swiss.’

‘I see that. Jesus, Zou must have been looting his department funds long before Ganz took his share. That’s one helluva lot of money.’

Gora ran his hands through his cropped salt and pepper hair in a quick, restless gesture, then dropped his arms on his desk and leaned forward. ‘The urgent question is: should I send my men to talk to the bankers? Or do you have the proper operatives? Those accounts have to be shut down quickly.’

‘I have some men who can deal with the bankers but, fuck, thirty or more accounts. And they have to be dealt with simultaneously or someone will spook and call in the authorities.’

‘Exactly.’ Gora’s grey gaze was cool. ‘What do you need from me?’

Aware of Gora’s Balkan mafia background, Rafe wasn’t sure of the fit. ‘No offence, but a certain subtlety is required. The men have to be able to get in the door, and into those offices.’

Gora smiled. ‘I might have a bit more experience than you. Tell me who you need and I’ll find them. I know when to be subtle and when not to be. This isn’t a gentlemen’s game – if it ever was. Zou has his back to the wall. That makes him unpredictable, and, God willing, careless.’

‘We should be so lucky. Look, find me half the agents to deal with the bankers. I’ll get the rest. Have your people here sometime tomorrow, if possible. It’s not complicated threatening men who have a lot to lose,’ he murmured, studying the list as he spoke. ‘They’re not going to risk their lives for Zou. Fuck, I know who runs Nederman & Ney. I’ll speak to Balthus. He can block that account. Now, a question for you. When you said Mother was worried. What does she know?’

Gora sat back and flicked his fingers. ‘None of this. She heard me talking to Dominic Knight late one night. I’d raised my voice and she woke up when she heard your name. I told her it was just this little affaire of yours that’s problematic for Nicole’s uncle. But any issue, no matter how small, if you’re involved, she worries.’ His brows lifted. ‘Although I’m getting the impression this is more than a small issue.’

‘No comment,’ Rafe said, flatly. ‘I’m not discussing Nicole.’

‘Fair enough. Although, you should find someone more
—
’

‘Don’t say it. You have no right.’

The subject of his rights was forbidden, although it hurt to hear his son reject him. But Camelia had to be protected, Rafe’s inheritance protected, the company protected. He accepted the responsibility, along with the pain. ‘Very well,’ Gora replied, mildly. ‘Now, if you have any specifics regarding the quality of the operatives you need to deal with the bankers, let me know.’

‘Anyone who looks capable of handling a hundred million or more for their client. Not that the bankers haven’t seen all kinds come in, but I don’t want them to give our people a second look. No visual red flags.’

‘I’ll start recruiting tonight. And indulge your mother when it comes to her acquaintance with Nicole. She’s pleased you brought her to dinner. Your mother blames herself for your – how shall I put it – callous indifference to women. She’s afraid all the difficulties you’ve endured have inoculated you against love.’ He shrugged. ‘Women are more romantic, and she doesn’t know the full extent of Maso’s depravities. You, unfortunately, saw them at close range. He should have died years ago. I’m sorry he didn’t.’

‘You, me and a lot of other people. Look,’ Rafe said, softly, ‘we might not always agree, but I want you to know how much I appreciate your love for Mother. She deserves it. You deserve it. The world can be seriously fucked up at times.’ He sighed. ‘Now particularly.’ Rafe came to his feet. ‘I’ll talk to Carlos and Ganz after Nicole goes to sleep. I don’t want her anywhere near this dangerous shit.’

‘Agreed. Will she be here long? I’m only asking in terms of risk to her. I’m taking your mother back to Trieste tomorrow.’

Rafe blew out a breath. ‘I shouldn’t have even brought her. That said, I’ll send her home when I have to. The timing’s moot.’

‘She’s very lovely,’ Gora said, softly, rising from his chair. ‘I understand your dilemma. Now then,’ Gora said with a faint smile, ‘let’s see if your mother has discovered all your and Nicole’s secrets.’

Rafe groaned.

Gora laughed. ‘I don’t think you have to worry. Miss Parrish looks as though she can take care of herself. You almost lost to her in that video game.’

‘Yeah.’ Rafe smiled. ‘Nicole’s good at a whole lot of things.’

‘How fortunate for you,’ Gora said, gently.

Chapter 8

Titus was offered his choice of movies by Andrei and settled in front of the TV with his trifle while Camelia and Nicole decided to enjoy the evening air on the deck outside. Andrei served the ladies coffee and grappas at a small table under an awning, then returned to the salon to be within calling distance.

‘Since I have orders not to grill you . . . ’ Camelia said with a smile, pulling out a chair from the table. ‘Allow me to at least tell you how pleased I am that you came to dinner.’ She looked up as she sat. ‘Rafe’s happy. I expect it’s because of you.’

‘I’m not sure, but thank you.’ Sitting opposite Camelia, Nicole reached for her grappa. ‘He has your eyes.’
And stunning looks
,
she thought, taking a sip of her grappa instead of mentioning what might have been construed as unctuous flattery. Camelia was tall, dark-haired, flawlessly beautiful and elegantly dressed in a simple sleeveless, full-skirted chartreuse silk and scarlet poppy print dress. Her skin, a sun-kissed golden hue, was a lighter version of her son’s darker complexion but, in all else, the resemblance was strong.

‘I confess, it pleases me that we have features in common.’ Camelia smiled. ‘A mother’s vanity. By the way, I recognize your dress. Céline designs are lovely.’

‘And comfortable. I don’t like to fuss with clothes.’

‘Rafe spends a good deal of time in shorts and sandals.’ A little curl of a grin. ‘The young generation. Even in business, a suit and tie is no longer obligatory.’

‘Rafe wore a suit for you tonight, then?’

Camelia nodded. ‘He’s a sweet boy.’

A phrase only a mother would use for Rafe Contini, better known for his audacity and vices. But Nicole had to admit, he could be endearing. More than that, loveable; a major problem considering the transient nature of their stay.

‘Titus is sweet as well,’ Nicole remarked, making a smooth U-turn from her train wreck speculation. ‘I have three brothers, all in high school now, but I remember them young and bubbly like Titus.’

‘You’re the only girl?’

Nicole shook her head. ‘I have two sisters. My mom came from a small family, so she wanted a big family. My dad wanted whatever my mom wanted. They get along. And Dad has eight brothers and sisters so it wasn’t a stretch.’ Nicole grinned. ‘Holidays are a zoo. Everyone gets together. The din is unreal.’

‘I can imagine.’ Camelia suspected Nicole’s openness appealed to Rafe; a change from her son’s usual female companions who were accommodating for a variety of reasons; marriage to a billionaire preeminent. ‘It sounds like fun though. When Rafe was young, it was generally just the two of us. Maso was away from home a good deal. Then Rafe went away to school . . . ’ She exhaled softly. ‘And he grew up overnight.’

‘When was that?’ Rafe and his friends’ references to boarding school had been shocking to someone educated in neighbourhood schools.

‘He was nine. Maso wanted to send him away at eight, but . . . Her voice died away for a moment. Drawing in a breath, she said very softly, ‘I convinced him to wait another year.’

Wow, thrown out into the world at nine.
‘Rafe seems to have managed well,’ Nicole said, keeping her voice neutral with effort.

Camelia sighed. ‘I’m afraid it’s all past mending now. But Rafail made some dear friends in those difficult years. The boys are very close. For that I’m grateful.’

‘I met Henny, Basil and Ganz in Monte Carlo. They have their own special bond, joking and teasing, yet intensely private beneath all the banter. My best friend from primary school and I have that kind of friendship. And in a large family like mine, if you want someone to talk to, whine to, need a shoulder to cry on, take your pick.’

Camilla smiled faintly. ‘How nice to have a supportive family. I hope you appreciate it.’

‘Most of the time.’ Nicole grinned. ‘We fight too, but no one holds a grudge. Mom won’t allow it; her mother was or is really difficult. Long story. Our housekeeper, Mrs B., is even more adamant about forgiveness; what goes around, comes around is her favourite saying. And she has the chops to enforce her philosophy.’

A small, considering look. ‘Chops?’

‘Authority. She orders everyone around. Even my Uncle Dominic doesn’t argue with Mrs B. and he likes to think he’s the ruler of the world.’

‘Some men do, I’ve found,’ Camelia said.

No way was she was replying to that soft, underlying fury in Rafe’s mother’s voice. ‘I figure it’s a testosterone thing.’ Nicole smiled. ‘I try to ignore it.’

‘Ignore what?’

Nicole turned at the sound of Rafe’s voice.

‘That second dessert. Or I try at least.’

Rafe grinned. ‘No you don’t.’

‘I said try, okay? You wanna argue?’ she purred.

His smile was dazzling. ‘Not on your life.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on, Tiger, we’re leaving.’

A moment later, Rafe leaned down, gave his mother a kiss goodbye, thanked her for dinner, tossed a glance back to Gora standing in the doorway of the salon and waved. Drawing Nicole to the stairway, he descended so swiftly that Nicole stumbled. Sweeping her up in his arms, he leaped down the last two steps without missing a beat. ‘How about I’m always here to catch you, Pussycat?’ he said with a grin. ‘You okay with that?’ He lifted a brow when she didn’t answer quickly enough. ‘Only one answer allowed.’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ The word, for ever, had been hovering restively on the tip of her tongue and required a moment to restrain.

‘Perfect. Good girl.’ And he carried her – a full on grin on his face – to the waiting launch.

Camelia and Gora stood at the rail, hand in hand, waiting for the launch to get underway.

‘What do you think?’ Gora murmured in their native language.

Camelia didn’t have to ask what Gora meant. ‘She’s caught him. Or Rafe’s caught her. I can’t tell.’

‘I’m not sure it’s permanent.’

‘I noticed. They’re both being extremely careful. Why?’ She looked up. ‘I expect you know.’

‘I don’t.’ Gora’s answer wasn’t entirely false. The present danger impacted on their relationship, but if there were other reasons, he wasn’t privy to them. ‘Rafe never shares his feelings. Apparently, Nicole didn’t either.’

‘They have that in common,’ Camelia said with a shake of her head.

Gora laughed. ‘I wonder how they converse.’

‘I don’t,’ Camelia said, bluntly. ‘But he likes her. That’s plain. So regardless of your reservations, I insist you like her too.’

‘Of course, dear. Whatever you say.’

‘I mean it, Anton.’ She held his gaze. ‘Don’t give me platitudes. Rafe deserves happiness. You understand?’

‘I do,’ Gora said very softly. Camelia as mother lioness reminded him of all the times he’d been unable to protect them. ‘If Rafe is serious about Miss Parrish, I wish them happiness.’

‘We had to wait so long. I want a better life for him.’ Tears suddenly filled her eyes.

‘Hush, sweetheart,’ he whispered, taking her in his arms. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see that Rafe’s happy.’

But first, he had to see that his son survived, he thought, watching the launch speeding toward shore.