Forbidden To Her Spanish Boss by Susan Stephens

CHAPTER FOUR

IFSHE’DBEENworried about Raffa’s reaction when he read the articles about them in the press, it was nothing to Rose’s reaction when she saw where she was about to eat supper. The scene on deck was like something from a film set. She couldn’t help exclaiming, ‘Do you eat like this every night?’

Raffa swung around, and so did her heart. In fact, it lurched in each and every direction at once, and it took all she’d got to bring it back, to adopt a friendly but serious expression as she walked towards him.

‘Good evening, Rose.’ Pulling away from the rail where he’d been lounging, Raffa advanced with a steady, purposeful step.

‘I didn’t expect this,’ she admitted with a long glance at the dining table. Dressed with crystal and silver beneath a gently rippling white canopy, the area was lit by flickering candles, which suggested a lot more than a business dinner.

‘You thought we’d eat burgers, and hang with a couple of beers?’ Raffa suggested dryly, before explaining, ‘My chef wanted to test some of the recipes for my champagne reception—’

Rose’s heart jumped alarmingly once again. She’d somehow managed to park the socialising element of the week in an underused part of her mind. Not that she didn’t party in Ireland, but a ceilidh down the village hall would hardly compare with a celebration on board the Pegasus.

‘—so I told the chef this would be the ideal occasion,’ Raffa continued smoothly.

‘Of course,’ Rose agreed. ‘Who are we receiving? At the champagne reception, I mean.’

Raffa had already turned away to speak to the steward. ‘No champagne, thank you. I’ll call if we need anything more. His Serene Highness, for one,’ he said, switching back to Rose. ‘Don’t look so worried. My champagne reception is nothing compared to the Prince’s annual charity ball the following night.’

‘And when is the champagne reception?’ Rose asked.

‘Tomorrow night.’

‘As soon as that?’ Rose’s throat dried. ‘You’ll be busy.’

‘And so will you,’ Raffa assured her. ‘There won’t be a better opportunity to launch you into society. You haven’t been long in the job, and these events will give me the chance to introduce you around and see how well, or not, you’re received.’

As the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor thief, Rose didn’t imagine she’d be welcomed with open arms.

‘Aren’t you pleased?’ Raffa prompted.

Rose reminded herself that this was El Lobo, the Wolf, as Raffa’s black stare stabbed into hers. ‘It all sounds very exciting,’ she lied, doubting six great hulking brothers had prepared her for the type of high-society individuals she would meet on Raffa’s superyacht. ‘I’m looking forward to it enormously.’

‘Is that why you’ve lost your appetite?’

Raffa missed nothing. Laden platters had been placed in front of them, and Rose couldn’t face a thing. ‘It all looks delicious.’ Her stomach grumbled right on cue. When had she last had something to eat?

Finally, she ate, and the food was indeed delicious. She told Raffa so in a series of appreciative moans. She could do this. She had to do this if she wanted to progress in her career. When he began to talk about the ponies they both loved, she knew it would be possible, because this was once again the serious-minded man she worked for and respected, the man whose unparalleled equine knowledge had drawn Rose to work for him in the first place. It wasn’t long before her enthusiasm for the topic spilled over, and the glamorous occasions ahead of her lost their power to intimidate.

Rose continued to impress him over dinner. The press had been less than kind to her since the wedding, suggesting she was an opportunistic gold digger, making the most of her surprise inclusion in his sister’s wedding. He was accustomed to being picked over by the press, but it was new for Rose, yet she made no mention of it. Even when he broached the subject, she brushed it aside, and got back to talking about the animals she loved.

‘Rest easy, where those articles are concerned,’ he said as she continued to weave the magic of unaffected charm over him. ‘They won’t influence my thinking on your work. The post of Head Groom is too vital for that.’

‘Thank you for the reassurance,’ Rose said as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. His gaze followed her movements. The evening had grown chilly while they’d been eating, and when she reached for the throw on the back of her chair, he leaned forward and draped it around her shoulders.

‘I’ve learned so much while I’ve been working for you,’ she admitted, staring up at him with the frankness in her eyes that made her irresistible. ‘I adore my work, and I’m open to any and all developments where my career is concerned. I’ve got such wonderful colleagues. We wouldn’t be the team we are without them, and I’ve made so many friends.’

As she talked, he saw the passion in her eyes, and suddenly wanted that same passion directed at him, but relationships outside his immediate family had proved impossible since the tragedy. He could go so far and no further, before his concern to protect others from his darkness kicked in. So many things had become impossible on the night he saw his parents perish in front of him. His mother used to say love is beautiful, but he thought it agonisingly cruel.

Something in his thoughts must have communicated to Rose and triggered a surprising response in her. ‘Tears?’ he queried. ‘Does your job mean so much to you?’

‘It means everything to me,’ Rose confessed fiercely, pulling herself together fast. ‘When my mother fell ill, she made me promise to take her place and look after the family. My brothers have flown the nest, but my father’s still a constant worry, so I have to succeed, to be in a position to support him, just as my mother asked.’

Hostage for life, he thought, realising that Rose would never believe she’d done enough. He was glad she’d confided in him. It explained the shadows in her eyes, and her constant drive to be the best. He could relate to those emotions.

‘Everything I do is geared to keeping the family afloat,’ she continued. ‘And please don’t feel sorry for me. Remember, I chose this path.’

Had she, or had Rose’s direction in life come from a desire to break free from what must have been a difficult childhood? ‘Thank you for your company tonight,’ he said formally, bringing the evening to a close. ‘You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow, so try to get some sleep.’

Rose stood and thanked the stewards, who reappeared at exactly the right moment to hold her chair and open doors. ‘Goodnight, Raffa. Sleep well.’

He doubted that would happen with Rose lying in a bed only a few yards away from his.

Rose was determined to keep things upbeat the next morning at breakfast. She and Raffa had trodden a tightrope over grief the previous evening that could alter the course of this week, if she dwelled on it. Working in a top stable was tough for all concerned, which meant a good-humoured, purposeful attitude was essential.

‘Good morning,’ she said brightly, joining Raffa at the table. The only problem now was Raffa in cut-off jeans, revealing rock-hard muscles in his deeply tanned legs, and a top that showed off everything, including his infamous wolf tattoo.

But this was not the time for feasting on Raffa, who launched straight in with the news that he had more conference calls to make that morning. ‘Meanwhile, you will liaise with the galley staff and everyone else on board the Pegasus, to ensure the champagne reception runs smoothly tonight. I have some additions to the list of people I’ve asked you to talk to at the event. It always helps to have a plan.’ His black stare lingered on her face, unreadable and inconveniently arousing. ‘Rose?’

‘Sorry.’ Moistening her lips, she quickly refocused. ‘I’m delighted to help in any way I can. I’m so looking forward to meeting your guests.’

‘No careless revelation of trade secrets,’ he warned.

‘You can rely on me for discretion.’

‘We’ll heave to in the ocean off the coast of Monte Carlo. My crew has entertained like this many times before, but I’m looking to you to add something more...an extra dimension, if you will.’

‘Of course.’ Excitement gripped Rose as she switched on the part of her brain that delighted in organising the heck out of things.

Raffa went on to explain that the Pegasus would be dressed for the reception as well. ‘Pennants, lights, champagne, music, and, of course, you’ll join me in welcoming His Serene Highness on board.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed, imagination running riot at the thought of sharing the occasion with Raffa.

‘The event starts at eight. Things move fast in the Acosta world,’ Raffa cautioned.

‘I think I already know that,’ she pointed out good-humouredly, ‘and I promise not to let you down.’

‘Excellent,’ Raffa said briskly. ‘The following night, as I mentioned to you yesterday, I will be the Prince’s guest of honour at his most important charity event of the year. There’ll be more people for you to meet at the ball, so I suggest you mug up on the names I’ve given you.’

To hear the brazen invitation to sin sitting next to her coolly detailing plans for upcoming events made Rose want to smile at the unlikely clash of sex and heat and business.

‘It’s an opportunity to start building relationships at the very highest level,’ Raffa explained, staring straight into her eyes. ‘You’ll be adding to your knowledge of how deals are done in the horse world. Your reputation in Ireland was second to none, and now you’re going global, Rose.’

‘I’m excited,’ she admitted, and not just by the professional opportunities Raffa was putting her way. ‘I’m guessing formal dress will be required?’

‘Just bring your quick wits along,’ he advised, lounging back in his chair.

‘I will,’ she vowed, eager to make a start on her homework for the night.

Trepidation successfully quelled, Rose was bouncing off the ceiling with anticipation in her dressing room later that same afternoon at the thought of the night ahead. A champagne reception and a prince. Thank goodness Adena had arranged for such an amazing selection of fabulous gowns for Rose to choose from. Slipping into the green silk sheath she’d selected for the event, she gasped at the transformation in the mirror. She looked so elegant she could almost believe she belonged in Raffa’s very different world.

The phone rang, distracting her. It was Raffa wanting to know Rose had checked up on everything she was supposed to.

‘You sound breathless,’ he remarked. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right?’

Learning to walk in high heels with a skirt that wrapped around her like a mummy’s bandage wasn’t the easiest thing she’d ever had to do. ‘Perfect,’ she lied, steadying herself on a handy table as she kicked off the perilous heels.

‘You can’t be tense tonight,’ Raffa warned. ‘My guests will sense it, and they won’t relax if you don’t, which means no one will have a good time. Did you find something you’re happy to wear? If not, I can always arrange for the helicopter to take you to Monte Carlo to select something else.’

If that didn’t knock the air out of her chest, nothing would. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she managed with studied calm. ‘Thank you for the offer, but there’s more than enough choice here—’

Rose stared at the receiver in her hand as the line cut. What would Raffa think when he saw her in this? Was it too much? She smoothed her hand down the sleek silk clinging to her body like a second skin. No reaction from Raffa would be a slap in the face, while even the smallest reaction might steal her attention from the only thing that mattered tonight, which was promoting Rancho Raffa Acosta. No place-filler tonight, she would instead be co-hosting a party with a billionaire. And yes, it would be nice to have Raffa look at her with something more than speculation in his eyes, but there could be no loitering in the shadows this time. It would be full-on guest-hosting from the get-go.

Hair down, make-up on, and a spritz of scent later, she was ready to embark on the next stage of what she was coming to think of as Rose’s Remarkable Journey.

Glamorous evening? Bring it on.

Dressed overall, and with all lights blazing, the Pegasus looked fabulous tonight. Rose stood in awe for a moment in the entrance to the grand salon, the main reception area on the yacht, staring past all the trimmings to where one man stood alone on the deck. She didn’t need hand holding, which was just as well, as Raffa’s life was one long line of business discussions, so he’d doubtless have his own itinerary for tonight. The Pegasus wasn’t so much a billionaire’s folly as a floating necessity that allowed him to move his office around the world. No wonder he was such a polo fanatic. Playing the game was the only downtime this titan of the business world allowed himself.

She stopped in her tracks, hearing the first of the tenders approaching. Moments later the chatter of excited partygoers floated across the water. Changing direction, she prepared to greet the first of their guests.

It was accepted etiquette that everyone must be in place before the Prince arrived, and Rose was gripped by the same excitement as the rest at the thought of a royal visitor, but even that paled in comparison to watching Raffa circulate amongst his guests. He eclipsed everything and everyone around him. As distinguished as a prince, he was as sexy as humanly possible, having dressed for the occasion in an immaculately tailored white jacket and slim-fitting black trousers. With midnight blue sapphires flashing at the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, he was hot and hard, and heading her way. Fumbling in her evening purse, she cursed softly, only now remembering his missing cufflink was in another bag. Next time! She’d get it back to him tomorrow latest.

‘I see you found a dress,’ he commented.

Did that slight angling of his chin, and that look in his eyes, denote approval? ‘I did,’ she confirmed.

‘Great choice of gown,’ he said with the lift of a brow.

Sound faded as they stared at each other, until all she was aware of was Raffa. ‘I’m glad you approve.’

His lips slanted, as if to let her know that, whatever he thought of the dress, he knew she’d have worn it anyway. ‘You’ve also done a good job with the details.’

The flowers in her hair, or the addition of bite-sized canapés to accompany the flutes of champagne?

‘The guests you’ll meet tonight know how to enjoy themselves,’ Raffa informed her. ‘You’ll find the party achieves a momentum of its own.’

Like so many things, Rose thought, basking in awareness as Raffa placed a hand in the small of her back to guide her across the deck to the first of the people he’d like her to meet. This turned out to be a prominent professor at the forefront of animal therapy, and he and Rose were soon deep in conversation. She thanked Raffa silently with a warm glance. ‘You’re welcome,’ he murmured before moving away.

When Raffa returned, Rose and the professor were still talking animatedly. ‘You’ll have to excuse us, Professor,’ he apologised. ‘The Prince’s helicopter is due to land, and we must be there to greet him.’

‘Of course...’ The professor bowed over Rose’s hand. ‘I hope we have the chance to talk again very soon.’

‘You seem to have made a good impression there,’ Raffa remarked as they made their way to the helipad. ‘I’m glad. The professor’s important to me. He saved me at a time when I had so much anger inside me, it threatened to consume me. He made me see that animals could help to soothe the human spirit.’

‘They have an innate healing quality I’ve always been interested in pursuing,’ Rose confessed.

She could guess when Raffa had been at his lowest point, and was glad the professor had been able to help him. She only had to think back to how her own emotions had run the gamut after her mother’s death, from despair to hollow emptiness, and on to anger at the injustice of random fate, to understand the turmoil that so often accompanied grief. This was the most insight Raffa had given her, but now was not the time to draw him out even further. He’d tell her more when he was ready to—or, not at all.

He felt a jab of something unexpected as he watched the Prince talking to Rose. Had he ever experienced jealousy before? The Prince was charming, and Rose was easily the most attractive and interesting woman at the party, but she was no Cinderella, waiting for a prince to sweep her off her feet. She was a hard-working woman, who knew her job, and whose natural charm and ability to listen and be genuinely interested put everyone at ease. When the Prince moved away, Raffa watched Rose work the crowd with all the flair of an accomplished host. She made everyone feel special, and had quickly become the hub around which his party flowed. His one complaint was that the food had turned from savoury to sweet by the time she returned to his side.

‘You’ve arrived just in time to gorge on chocolate,’ he said as a steward offered them a plate full of sin.

Rose laughed. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘Dive in—one for each hand,’ he advised.

She glanced at him and blushed. ‘I’d love to, but I’m guessing our guests won’t appreciate a chocolate handshake—’

‘Allow me...’ Selecting a delicious-looking treat from the tray, he touched it to her lips.

Rose’s gaze flashed up and darkened, almost as if he’d made a move to kiss her. The temptation to do so overwhelmed him, especially when her tongue crept out to lick her lips, but she turned in response to the chatter of their guests, and quickly excused herself to introduce some newcomers around. That was what he wanted, of course. A successful party depended on the swift reactions of the host.

It should be what he wanted, he amended, as Rose charmed yet another group. She was careful not to leave anyone out—except him, apparently. With an amused huff, he pushed away from the rail and set out to work the other side of the deck.

Guests took precedence over anything else. Even Raffa, though her gaze kept straying to him. He could turn on the charm at parties, but Rose had glimpsed the darker side of their glamorous host. It would be good for both of them to let some light into the darkness, but Rose had never had the time to properly deal with the past, and guessed Raffa was in a similar position. Maybe one day they would manage it, but, with the party in full flow, tonight was not the right occasion. She had stewards to help and food to bring out, as well as what seemed like a constant stream of misplaced items to find for various guests.

When the evening finally drew to a close, and the Prince thanked them both for a most wonderful party, Raffa was quick with his praise. ‘You worked hard tonight,’ he told her as they stood watching His Serene Highness’s helicopter lift off the deck. ‘Thank you, Rose.’

‘Thank you for the opportunity,’ she replied with genuine warmth. ‘It’s been a wonderful evening. I didn’t expect to enjoy it quite so much.’

‘You were the hit of the night,’ he reassured her, ‘and you’ve another big day ahead of you tomorrow, so you’d better get a good night’s sleep.’

‘I will,’ she assured him.

They stood facing each other, Raffa with his head dipped in Rose’s direction. Something in his eyes made Rose raise her chin. There was a moment, a very long moment, when she was absolutely certain Raffa would kiss her this time, and Rose was equally sure she’d kiss him back.

Seconds ticked by, and when—once again—nothing happened, oddly disappointed, she turned to go. ‘You get a good night’s sleep too,’ she called to Raffa over her shoulder.

Thoughts of Rose plagued him throughout the night. Reliving the moment when the thought of kissing her had crossed his mind and taken hold made an ice-cold shower a necessity.

The ice-cold shower was no help at all. Lifting his face to the spray, he attempted to banish lustful thoughts from his mind.

That went well.

Cursing viciously, he cut off the stream of water, stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off. This was why he never allowed himself to feel. Feelings only got in the way. Sex had been his saviour in so many ways. It brought physical relief and blanked out the emotional pain of the past for however long it lasted. Planting clenched fists on the marble surface of the washstand, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. A hard man stared back. Rose Kelly had no place in his mind. He had nothing to offer her, apart from employment opportunities on his ranch.

Raking his hair with stiff, angry fingers, he grimaced as memories of the past came flooding back. When he’d discovered the pilot had been drunk, he’d cursed himself for not boarding the private jet to check it out himself before it took off with his parents on board. He’d learned a vital lesson that night. Love was not invincible. It could be destroyed by something as simple as a bottle of whisky in the wrong hands.

Impatient at this lapse back into a past he couldn’t change, he scowled and left the bathroom. Rose’s soothing balm was what he needed—her laughter, her challenges and an enlivening dose of her cheek. Admittedly these were all a poor substitute for sex, but something had to help him relax.

Only, seeing Rose in person would have to wait. Business meetings were stacked up in front of him, and it was the charity ball tonight. Texting Rose, he reminded her of her itinerary. There must be no slackening off from the standard she’d set last night.

I have meetings all day. You have hairdresser, beautician, etc. at noon. Report to the helipad eight p.m. sharp. R

He thought about adding a few encouraging words, but Rose had done very well without them so far.

Rose was still rubbing sleep from her eyes when her phone pinged. ‘I should have put it on silent,’ she muttered, squinting to read the short note. Seeing it was from Raffa, she sat bolt upright, instantly awake. Touching her lips, all she could think about was their almost kiss. Was Raffa thinking about her, and remembering it too?

Heart in her mouth, Rose scanned the text fast. And frowned. Clearly not. No mention at all of last night, just a list of appointments she was expected to attend. Crushed, she was in no mood to comply. Hairdresser? Beautician? What was she—a show pony? Then a worse thought occurred: Had she made a fool of herself last night—misjudged the look with that gown? No. Even in such a glamorous frock, she’d been dressed down in comparison to some of the women.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she pulled faces at her reflection in the wall mirror. She scrubbed up as well as the next person. It wasn’t as if she were planning to attend the ball in her pyjamas. Hairdresser? Hadn’t she been doing her own hair all her life? As for needing a beautician? You couldn’t correct a face full of freckles without a bucketful of Polyfilla, and no one was coming near enough to slap on a face full of that. And what exactly did ‘etc’ mean? A stylist perhaps? That could be useful, Rose concluded with a frown. She could do with someone to teach her how to walk in high heels.

Raffa would apparently be busy until he attended the ball, but at least that spared her the usual interrogation over breakfast this morning. He was not an easy taskmaster. She had studied hard at equestrian college, but Raffa had obviously eaten and fully digested the texts. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about horses.

Not seeing him wasn’t all good. Apart from the obvious basking in the glow of a flame that burned so bright, the lack of Raffa meant losing her anchor in this sea of plenty, and there was no guarantee he’d be her rock tonight. Raffa would be seated with the Prince, while Rose would be so far away, she’d probably be sitting out in the yard.

A flutter of apprehension gripped Rose, until she reminded herself that she’d managed pretty well last night, and would manage again. The one thing she’d never had a problem with was standing on her own two feet, and any expansion in her duties signalled a welcome progression in her career.

A knock on the door jolted her out of the reverie. Was it Raffa? He’d look great carrying a breakfast tray. She smoothed her hair. ‘Come in...’

It was a uniformed steward with a smiling explanation. ‘Señor Acosta thought you might like breakfast in bed today.’

With Raffa, yes, Bad Rose suggested. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Good Rose said politely, lapping up the sight of a tray laid so perfectly it was fit for the Ritz.

‘Your beautician and hairdresser arrive at noon,’ the steward said, as if he’d been asked to reinforce Raffa’s message. ‘Señor Acosta suggests you relax for the rest of this morning.’

Suggests?Unless Rose was mistaken, that was an instruction. Raffa wanted her to be fresh tonight, and out of his way today. Had that ‘almost kiss’ affected him too—in a way that made him determined to stay away from her—or was she making too much of it?

‘Breakfast looks delicious,’ she called tactfully after the steward as he left the room, though her appetite had all but disappeared.

Releasing her death grip on the butter knife, she started to prepare herself mentally for the palace ball. The first thing—the most vital thing of all—was to finally remember to return Raffa’s cufflink. She couldn’t entrust it to anyone else.

Searching out the evening bag she intended to use that night, she secured the black jewel in the small zip-up pocket. Her next task was to remind herself how much she enjoyed meeting new people, and how she relished diverse topics of conversation. What was so different about tonight? A ball at the royal palace would be daunting for anyone, though for Raffa it would be all about business. Networking was a crucial part of his life. And now, for some annoying reason, a parade of unfeasibly beautiful females, all with the world’s most eligible bachelor in their sights, plonked itself in her mind. She tried reassuring herself that her only task was to choose a dress to wear, while those imaginary women, in competition for Raffa, would be at it tooth and claw.

Closing her eyes on that unfortunate image was no use at all, for there they were, taunting her as they sashayed up and down behind her eyelids.

Where the choice of gown for tonight was concerned, glamour the heck out of it was the only answer.