Breaking the Limits: Rafe & Nicole Book 2 (9 page)

Chapter 9

Nicole woke at the sound of the door closing. She wasn’t surprised. Rafe had been especially tender and attentive making love, wanting to please and satisfy her. But he’d been tense in small ways: his teasing more subdued; his smiles fewer; the occasional tic over his cheekbone a tell. She should have just said, ‘Go. I don’t mind.’ From now on, she would.

Reaching out, she ran her fingers over the sheet where Rafe had lain, but his warmth was gone and a small shiver of grief slid up her spine. She’d always known he’d leave someday; she’d thought she could deal with it rationally. Hadn’t she always in the past?

But, from the first, Rafe had been a contradiction, a singular fingerprint on her psyche; deep, strong, capable of leaving emotional debris in his wake. And she’d struggled to stay whole. Unreasonably at times. With bonehead stupidity at other times. Stubbornly. But her freedom and independence had been at risk.

And now without him for the first time, she suddenly felt lost and alone; her equilibrium gone.

It was terrifying.

She’d never felt alone. In fact, she’d often searched for a moment of quiet in a household as busy as hers, in a family as large as hers. It had never occurred to her, not for a second, that this could happen.

Her confidence was shaken.

Rolling out of bed, she grabbed her phone and quickly walked away from the bed where Rafe so recently had given her untold delight. Crossing the large room, she curled up on one of the sofas, pulled a white angora throw over her legs and dialled Fiona. If ever she needed a voice of reason, a fixed point in a shifting, tilting world, it was now.

‘Jesus,’ Nicole muttered when Fiona answered, the music in the background deafening. ‘Can you hear me?’ she shouted.

‘Wait, wait, I see your ID, give me a minute.’

If Fiona was wasted, her call would be useless. She needed Fiona semi-coherent. She needed someone to steer her clear of this disbelieving moment and world-class mess.

‘There,’ Fiona said. ‘Now I can hear you. I’m in the bathroom.’

‘Whose bathroom?’

‘One of your billionaire boyfriend’s bathrooms in Ibiza. Jack has some friends over. What’s up?’

‘Are you sober?’

‘Gimme a break. It’s midnight. Hey, hey, relax,’ Fiona added, hearing the sudden, stark silence and Nicole’s fast breathing. ‘I’m clear-headed. I stopped imbibing various things a while ago when some bitch started climbing all over Jack. I figured I’d better take it easy. You know what my temper’s like when I’m loaded. But Jack was sweet, shoved the skank off him so everything’s good. Paradise is still golden here. How’s it going wherever you are?’

‘I’m somewhere in Croatia and I think I’m in love.’

‘Jesus! Let me sit down. Okay, run that by me again. I may have been hallucinating.’

‘Don’t give me shit. I’m officially in shock. You have to talk me down.’

‘Hell, that’s easy. First, Rafe Contini wouldn’t know what love was if it showed up at his door wearing gold sequins, a pink feather boa and a neon sign flashing the word, LOVE. He’d figure it was someone from a costume party who’d lost their way. Second, even if he recognized the word, love, the naked babes draped all over him would divert his attention in a New York second. And third, baby girl, have you lost your motherfucking mind. His name is Rafe Contini and he screws every woman in sight just as hard as he works at being CEO. Have I made my point?’

‘I wish.’

‘Then you need a brain transplant.’

‘I know.’

‘Oh God, don’t cry. I can’t help you from this far away. Come on, please?’

‘I’m not crying . . . or maybe just a little – it’s so stupid . . . I’ll stop, gimme a second. There.’ A few more quick breaths, a couple of sniffles. ‘Jesus, emotional involvement really sucks. But I’ll survive. I know the trope. No one dies of love. Scars all over, but life goes on, right? How’s it going with Jack?’

‘Look, my therapy sign’s still on the door. Spill your guts. I’ll listen all night if it helps. By the way, where is the billionaire? Oh, shit, is he gone, gone? Is that what this is about?’

‘No – or he’s gone temporarily. He’s downstairs. But he’s been unimaginably sweet and gentle, so damned perfect that it takes your breath away. Makes you realize how fragile happiness is.’ She couldn’t speak of the dangers Rafe was facing. But the level of activity on the island frightened her. ‘I’m trying really hard not to fall any deeper in love. I’m mentally rehearsing every cliché about broken hearts and unrequited love to remind me not to be a complete fool.’

‘Good for you, because Rafe’s probably the same sweet, gentle, perfect guy with every woman he knows. Practice makes perfect. Just sayin’.’

‘You think I haven’t told l myself that? But Rafe says it’s different for him too. Like slammed-by-a-freight-train different.’

‘Come on,’ Fiona said, softly. ‘What do you expect him to say? He’s good at this, okay? He knows all the moves, all the words, what works and doesn’t work. He’s a pro.’

‘Is Jack like that?’

‘He’s awesome, but I’m keeping my feet on the ground. You better do the same. This is a summer break. We go home when it’s over. Don’t forget the plan.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Nicole drew in a deep breath, slowly exhaled. ‘Thanks for the reminder. Summer break, me still not registered for fall semester, shit to be done. Okay, I’m back on track. Feet on the ground, braced against the gale-force winds. Got it.’

‘Rafe won’t give a shit if you’re crying over him, that’s all I’m saying. And there isn’t a bookie who’d bet against him taking off sooner or later, ’cause that’s what he does. He doesn’t do permanent. So stiff upper lip, babe. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with. The billionaire with the legendary dick. He’s not like the boys you’ve left behind.’

‘Yeah,’ Nicole said. ‘Boys. Bless my naïve little heart, that’s the irrevocable difference. Look, thanks for listening. I’m under control, in full self-preservation mode. Have you heard anything from back home? I talked to my mom earlier today.’

‘My mom’s having a meltdown over my little sister. Wrong boyfriend, I guess.’ Fiona laughed. ‘You’d know about that.’

‘Oh, Rafe’s not wrong. He’s right in a thousand beautiful, dissolute ways,’ Nicole murmured. ‘That’s the problem.’

‘My advice. Take pictures. For your scrapbook.’

‘Fuck you.’ But they were finished.

‘Not when I have Jack. Maybe later you and I could get together and check out the L-world,’ she teased. ‘Hey, Jack’s knocking on the door. Ciao, baby girl. Keep on keeping on. It’s the only way. Oh, by the way, if Sarah calls, don’t feel you have to answer. I slipped up and told her you were with Rafe.’

Whether serendipity or just bad luck, Nicole had no more than ended Fiona’s call when her phone rang and Sarah’s name came up on her display. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, not sure she wanted to talk. On the other hand, she didn’t have to say anything about anything if she didn’t want.

Hitting the Answer button, she quickly counted backward to San Francisco time – three in the afternoon – picked up and jerked the phone away from her ear for a second. Ear-splitting music was blaring in the background. ‘Where are you?’ Nicole asked, loud enough to be heard over the din. ‘Party or bar?’

‘Party on the beach,’ her friend Sarah shouted. ‘The surf is prime. Just a sec. I’m gonna walk away . . . ’ Her voice settled into the normal range. ‘From the speakers. Fiona just called me to gloat. Is she really partying in Ibiza with some prince?’

‘I think so.’ Sarah was a Twitter slut, so the less said, the better. ‘I haven’t talked to Fiona lately,’ she lied.

‘Because you’re too busy fucking Rafe Contini, I hear. I am sooo jealous. Seriously, I hate you right now.’

‘We’re just on holiday for a few days. It’s no big deal.’ Nicole’s feelings for Rafe weren’t for public consumption, particularly with the gossip queen of the world.

‘Gimme a break. Everything about Rafe Contini’s a big deal. He’s the freaking God of Hotness. Remember when we saw him at that conference? We wanted to rip off his clothes with our teeth.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Fuck if you don’t. You and I both wet our panties just looking at him. So tell me every down and dirty detail of what it’s like to fuck the god.’

‘Look, I’ll be home in a few days. I’ll tell you then. I’m not alone,’ Nicole said, although she was.

‘Oh God, is he there? Naked? I think my heart might stop. Can I listen to him breathing at least or
—
’

‘Jeez, relax, Sarah. Rafe’s in a meeting. Hey, someone just knocked on my door,’ she said, so not in the mood for this. ‘I gotta go.’

Tossing her phone aside, Nicole softly exhaled. Of course she remembered the first time she’d seen Rafe.

It was at a medical conference in San Francisco. The auditorium at Stanford was packed. While the seminar topic of Targeted Chemotherapy was of interest, Nicole suspected many of the attendees found the speaker even more interesting; the gender ratio definitely skewed female. A kind of breath-held expectation was humming in the air. And it wasn’t just because a free wine bar had been set up in the lobby before this last seminar of the day.

A tall, willowy blonde doctor from the Department of Medicine introduced Rafe; at the time he was head of R&D for Contini Pharmaceuticals. The doctor first expressed her admiration for Contini Pharma’s innovative Research and Development division, then went on to describe her admiration for the speaker in more personal terms than appropriate for the venue. Halfway through her fawning testimonial to Rafe’s impressive educational and professional credentials, he came to his feet and politely interrupted her lengthy presentation of his boy genius college degrees with a light remark about having missed his childhood. Then he deliberately moved to the podium so she had to step aside and take her seat.

For a moment he stood calmly at the podium: straight and tall, his flint-grey bespoke suit beautifully tailored to fit his lean, hard body, his long, dark, glossy hair gleaming under the spotlight, his handsome face all bones and sharp contours, his golden eyes hooded like a hawk’s.

Whether he was accustomed to the rapt attention or simply waiting for the buzz to die down, it was another few moments before he smiled and said, ‘Let me show you what we’ve been working on for the last few years.’

His presentation was erudite and definitive, first offering an overview of Contini Pharma’s current research on targeted chemotherapy, then describing their newly developed drugs, moving on to detail their next-generation research that was heavily focused on immunotherapy and bioelectronics. He spoke without notes, operated the digital and visual displays himself, explained all the various graphs and charts down to their minutiae and, once he finished, opened the floor to questions.

Nothing ruffled him, no question was too difficult, the few dissenting queries – never absent from any conference seminar – were politely refuted or corrected with substantive, corroborating data.

He was a brilliant, charming technocrat.

And when he said, ‘Thank you very much for your time,’ he received a standing ovation.

Never underestimate the X-rated, rock-star factor no matter how stuffy the occasion, Nicole thought at the time, whistling her appreciation while Sarah beamed and clapped and elbowed her in the ribs.

Afterward, Nicole along with the other Chem students waited while their professor brought Mr Contini over for a previously arranged meeting. The blonde doctor was clinging to his arm, but Rafe casually ignored her adulation and smiled in acknowledgment as a brief round of introductions was made. Then he offered a few remarks about the relevance of a Chemistry degree to his business, answered a blunt question about Contini Pharma’s hiring practices from one of the male students, then handed several of his business cards to the professor. ‘I personally answer that number, so if anyone’s looking for work, give me a call.’ He smiled warmly. ‘We like to hire alums. How many of you are seniors?’

Before anyone could answer, his adoring companion reached up, pulled his head down and whispered something in his ear.

He stiffened slightly, removed her hand, then straightened and brushed his hair back with his palm. ‘If you’ll excuse us,’ he said, without expression. ‘Dr Andrews reminded me of another engagement.’

But Nicole was standing at the edge of the group so she heard him say under his breath as he and the doctor walked past, ‘For God’s sake, Amy, couldn’t you have waited another few minutes?’ Although whatever the doctor said in reply made him laugh.

An awkward silence fell in the aftermath of the couple’s abrupt exit.

Professor Norton cleared his throat. ‘Now, who wants one of Mr Contini’s business cards? He’s willing to take a personal call. That’s rare.’

‘I wonder if you have to be female to get an interview?’ one of the men said, drily.

‘For once I might have the advantage then,’ a smart-ass woman noted.

‘Too bad he’s rich,’ Sarah had whispered to Nicole. ‘I’d pay him to fuck me.’

‘Maybe we could bribe one of the hotel staff to let us into his room,’ Nicole had whispered back. ‘He might like a foursome. We could just ignore the good doctor. She doesn’t look very wild if you ask me.’

‘You wouldn’t!’ Sarah’s eyes flared wide.

‘I would. Or I might for him,’ Nicole said with a little shrug. ‘He’s hot.’

But then someone brought up a party just down the street and Sarah dragged Nicole there because she had been lusting after one of the guys in their Chem group. But soon, bored out of her mind, Nicole had actually Googled a couple of five-star hotels nearby, impersonated Rafe Contini’s assistant, talked her way past the operators and found him registered at the Ritz Carlton. Whether she would have acted on the information remained a mystery because Kaz Holmes suddenly appeared at her side, gave her a wise-ass grin and said, ‘Awesome eye candy as usual, Nic. I’m glad Rowdy talked me coming to this party. What say we open a bag of Doritos together?’

Instantly distracted by Kaz’s super-fine weed, her plans changed.

But fate had intervened in Monte Carlo and here she was, half in love, more probably, if she chose to admit it, with a man who may or may not recognize the emotion. Or if he did, deal with it . . . God knows how.