Illegitimate Tycoon (9 page)

 
          
But
for all its grandeur, he still felt oppressed here. Just like he had all those
years ago as he’d stood at the back fence of Wolfe Manor and stared across the
gardens at the grand house, where his half siblings had resided.

 
          
He’d
longed to be invited inside. To play with his half siblings. To fully be a part
of his family. But his father had denied him that right. William Wolfe had let
it be known that Rafael didn’t belong there among his other children.

 
          
The
stigma of being unwanted burned his soul, even though his eldest brothers had
welcomed him into the family fold well before William Wolfe had died. He’d
still been the outsider, the one who went back to his squalid home at night. He’d
never forged that connection siblings have just by living together, even though
they’d all endured hell that their father had heaped on them. But Rafael still
felt like the added appendage, there out of Jacob’s and Nathaniel’s good
graces. Accepted, yet still distant.

 
          
Sadly,
he felt much the same around Leila. He stood at the back of the room watching
her, wanting to share every moment of his life with her again. Desperate to
share the future with her as well, to grow old with her, to watch their
children grow into adults.

 
          
To
be content with Leila by his side.

 
          
But
this past year had changed them both. She had become a different woman. There
was a remoteness about her that troubled him. A shadow in her eyes that begged
forgiveness. But from what?

 
          
His
gut twisted at the possibilities. Had he been so driven to be a success, to
prove that his eldest brother Jacob’s money hadn’t been wasted on him, that he’d
let the one good thing that had happened in his life slip through his fingers?
Had he already lost her to her career? To another man?

 
          
No,
he couldn’t believe his Leila would cheat on him. It was simply that she was
not ready to give up her career yet, which meant he had to convince her that
the dreams they’d woven together before they married were just as strong now.
Just as viable.

 
          
With
his mind fixed on doing just that, Rafael turned back to the set where the
photographer’s assistants were busy checking the light. Amid the flurry of
movement, Leila strode from the wardrobe tent which was cleverly concealed by
an antique dressing screen, and his heart nearly stopped beating as he drank in
her beauty.

 
          
Two
pale gold straps of gathered fabric crossed at the front over her breasts
before tying around her slender neck. From her upthrust bosom, the dress fell
to midthigh, adding just enough fullness so the fabric moved with her.

 
          
And
did she ever know how to move!

 
          
The
low chatter among the crew stopped and he was certain all eyes turned to her.
But instead of walking onto the set where the crew waited for her, she came
right toward him.

 
          
He
was certain his heart would pound out of his chest, that his blood would surely
burst his veins the way it surged like a swollen river. She smiled as if she hadn’t
seen him in months and had grieved every second they were apart. It was a look
that said she loved him with all her heart. That she ached to pull him into her
bed and her body this very second.

 
          
She’d
always been just as demanding in the bedroom as he. But she’d never fixed him
with this “take me” look in public.

 
          
Even
if he’d been prepared, he doubted he could have stopped his body from
responding so quickly. His pulse quickened, his arousal grew swift and painful.

 
          
He
ached to rip the filmy gold dress from her and make love to her here, deeply,
savagely. To leave no doubt that she was his now and forever.

 
          
“Four
minutes, Miss Santiago,” the photographer said, his voice and presence an
irritation to Rafael.

 
          
“I’m
ready when you are,” Leila said, but her focus was on Rafael as she stopped
before him.

 
          
She
swept her hands up his chest to his shoulders, sending a tsunami of desire
crashing through him. A low growl escaped him, and her eyes gleamed with wicked
intent.

 
          
Such
a vixen! Still his to have. To hold!

 
          
Slowly,
her hands glided back down, the nails surely shooting sparks as she scored his
shirt before her palms settled over the taut planes of his pectorals. “I was
nervous about you being here, but now I’m glad you are. You’ve always been my rock
at shoots.”

 
          
“The
only session I’ve attended in years was in March,
querida.”
And that one had sparked a fierce jealousy in him as well
as intense longing.

 
          
She
lifted a hand and scraped a blunt fingernail along his jaw, and like a match to
flint, hot flames of desire ignited within him, burning his resolve to ash.

 
          
“Yes,
but you were always at the other shoots in my mind,” she whispered so softly he
wondered if he’d heard her right, her eyes now glowing with affection.

 
          
“Miss
Santiago, may I remind you that we’re on a tight schedule here. Time is money,”
the irritating client snapped.

 
          
With
another toss of her sleek silken hair, she strode back to the set before the
massive fireplace. A multitude of candles burned in the firebox and along the
hearth, lending a warm glow to the gray marble.

 
          
But
it was Leila that he watched. Leila that his blood heated for. Leila that he
dreamed of having soon.

 
          
The
photographer clapped his hands and his staff scampered to do his bidding. “Miss
Santiago, if you’d recline on the fainting couch now,” he said, and she
immediately did as asked.

 
          
That
was a personal hell for him, for the moment she stretched out on the couch he
ached to join her. Her golden dress draped over her demurely, but a fan
directed at her kept the hem fluttering like his heart.

 
          
The
next hour passed in a blur of pictures of Leila stretching out on the couch.
Provocative poses. Innocent ones. Beckoning. Assured.

 
          
They
ran the gamut and Rafael was only sure of one thing. He had never lusted for a
woman as he had Leila. Never wanted a woman as much as he did her.

 
          
As
lovers, there was no comparison. There never would be.

 
          
She
looked over at him right then, her eyes beckoning, her head back and turned
just so, her slender neck cast in light. And then from the shadows came a
masculine hand holding a glass perfume stopper.

 
          
Rafael’s
mouth went dry as the tiny glass bulb glided down her throat leaving a thin
bead of moisture in its wake. Almost immediately a seductive heady scent filled
the air.

 
          
But
it was the fluid arch of her back and moan that escaped her lips that nearly
undid him. Her eyes were closed now in silent ecstasy. What was she thinking?

 
          
You are always there in my mind
.

 
          
Dared
he believe her?

 
          
“INCREDIBLE
session,” Siobhan said at the wardrobe door.

 
          
Leila
trotted forth a smile as the assistant helped her out of the gold dress. “I
thought so too.”

 
          
Though
the overbearing client had insisted on butting in, the photographer hadn’t
bowed to the man’s demands and Siobhan had quickly hustled the client off the
set. Through it all, Leila had kept her calm just by looking over to see that
Rafael was still there.

 
          
He
was on the phone, and she imagined he was involved in his own business. But
still he’d come to the shoot and she could get very used to being around him
this much again.

 
          
“Enjoy
your afternoon,” Siobhan said, breaking into her thoughts. “The second session
today is at five o’clock on the beach, and the swimsuits are wickedly
delicious. Just don’t overindulge at lunch!”

 
          
As
if she ever did. “I’ll watch it.”

 
          
Leila
left the wardrobe and Rafael stepped forward, his expression pensive. “What
would you like to do this afternoon?”

 
          
She
glanced through the window at the hordes of paparazzi gathered outside the villa
and cringed, for they’d surely follow them. “Anything as long as it’s someplace
quiet where they can’t find us.”

 
          
“And
here I was thinking you thrived before the camera.”

 
          
“Only
when I’m on set working,” she admitted. “You know that I treasure my privacy.”

 
          
“As
do I.” He caught her hand in his, and she shivered at that first jolt of energy
that passed from him to her. “Come on. I know just the place to relax.”

 
          
In
moments he’d pulled her out a side door covered by a portico. A uniformed
driver stood beside a sleek red sports car.

 
          
“Merci,”
Rafael told the man, who tossed
him the key before walking back to a nondescript economy car where another man
waited.

 
          
“How
did you arrange a car so quickly?” she asked as Rafael opened her door.

 
          
“I
have connections.”

 
          
A
fact she was well aware of.

 
          
“Were
you so sure that I’d go off with you?” she teased.

 
          
His
sinfully beautiful mouth pulled into a smile that left her tingling inside. “I
can be very persuasive.” As well she knew!

 
          
In
moments Rafael had whipped through the congested streets toward the harbor. She
leaned back in the seat and savored the vista of clear blue sea crowded with
all manner of vessels, of the array of umbrellas strung along the beach like a
string of colorful gems.

 
          
Of
being alone with her husband. Maybe when they stopped she could find the words
to tell him of their loss. Maybe then he’d understand her fears and the risks
involved.

 
          
She
studied the people crowded on the sandy beach, certain if she looked hard
enough she’d catch sight of one of the noted celebrities. But as always Rafael
drew her attention back to him, for he was the most fascinating man she’d ever
met.

 
          
He
handled the powerful car just like he did everything else—with an arrogant ease
that she’d always admired. Quiet control. He’d exuded that aura when she had
first met him, even though he had acted carefree. Reckless, almost.

 
          
Rafael
da Souza had been oh so sure he’d succeed in business. And in love.

 
          
“You
are going to marry me,” he’d said that day he’d taken her away from the chaos
of her world and off into a whirlwind jaunt into the mountains.

 
          
“Why
would I do that?” she’d asked, though the idea of being married to him had
thrilled her.

 
          
“Because
you love me and I love you,” he’d said with such surety that she’d fallen a bit
deeper in love with him then and there. “We belong together,
querida.”