Читать книгу Seduced by the Heir - Pamela Yaye - Страница 10

Chapter 2

“Why didn’t you tell me you invited Rafael Morretti to your wedding?” Paris burst into the master bedroom on the second floor of the twelve-room villa and cornered her best friend, Cassandra Knight, inside the enormous walk-in closet. “I almost fainted when I saw him!”

“What’s the matter? Why are you so upset?”

Stumped, Paris closed her mouth. What am I supposed to say? Seeing Rafael left me rattled. I’m still attracted to him. He’s even more handsome at thirty-six than he was at nineteen.... Since she couldn’t find the right words to express her feelings, she said nothing.

“You two should get along great. He’s half Italian, and you love pasta, and Godfather movies. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me!”

“Knock it off,” Paris snapped, annoyed by her friend’s teasing. “This is serious.”

Cassandra’s face softened and she wore a sympathetic smile. “I know what this is about. You propositioned him and he shot you down, didn’t he? I told you girl, less is more—”

“Rafael did not shoot me down.”

Cassandra belted her robe and returned to the master bedroom. “Then why are you ranting and raving about a guy you just met?”

I know him better than you think, Paris thought, ambling over to the window. Pulling back the bronze drapes, she searched the grounds of the villa for her first love. Reuniting with her old college sweetheart had stirred powerful feelings inside her, but even more shocking was the impulse she felt to jump his bones. Maybe celibacy isn’t such a good idea. I’m so horny I’m fantasizing about a guy I dumped fifteen years ago!

“Keep your chin up. You’ll meet a great guy this weekend. I just know it.”

Paris scoffed and rolled her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. “Girl, please, I have a better chance of being struck by lightning during a snowstorm!”

“Okay, okay, fine, quit pouting. I’ll get Rafael’s phone number for you.”

“I’ve known Rafael since I was a teenager,” she blurted out, staring down at her bejeweled hands. The very same hands she’d once used to stroke Rafael’s face, his chest and his... Paris deleted her last thought. To ward off the memories sneaking up on her, she pressed her eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. “He was my first love.”

“You hooked up with Rafael Morretti? No way!”

“We started dating our freshman year of college, and broke up a year later.”

Cassandra wore a cheeky grin. “That means Rafael is Mr. O!”

“Don’t call him that.”

“What?” Her smile was coy, but the expression in her eyes was one of pure mischief. “You said your first love gave you orgasm after orgasm, night after glorious night.”

“All right, all right,” Paris snapped. “Enough already. I don’t want to talk about my sexual escapades with Rafael Morretti.”

“Don’t get mad at me. They’re your words, not mine.”

Needing a distraction—something, anything, to take her mind off her old college sweetheart—Paris surveyed her surroundings. The seventeenth century villa was the perfect blend of Old World Venice and the modern, contemporary age. During the tour of the villa that afternoon, she’d learned it had a wine cellar, a personal theater and a home gym. But the room that impressed Paris the most was the study. Later, when the party died down, she was going to curl up on the couch and unwind with a romance novel.

“How was I supposed to know Stefano’s childhood friend was your old college sweetheart?” Cassandra plopped down on the antique chair at the vanity table and unzipped her Hermes makeup bag. “I’m a savvy businesswoman, Paris, not a mind reader!”

Paris laughed, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach remained. To take her mind off Rafael, she joined Cassandra at the vanity table and picked up a curling iron. “You’re right. I’m sorry for blowing up at you, but seeing Rafael again after all these years has me on edge.”

“Relax, you’re getting yourself all worked up for nothing. Rafael is too much of a gentleman to rehash the past. Besides, he’s leaving for Tuscany tomorrow, so you won’t see him again until the wedding day.”

“He balked at your ridiculous, five-page itinerary, too, huh? Smart man.”

“I just want everyone I love to spend quality time together this week.”

“I hear you, but a week-long wedding celebration is a little over the top, even for me.”

“Don’t talk to me about over the top. You rented out Spago for your thirtieth birthday, flew in friends from all across the country, and paid thousands of dollars to have Maxwell to perform,” Cassandra said, nailing her with a don’t-mess-with-me look. “Only celebrities do that, and the last time I checked your last name wasn’t Kardashian!”

The friends laughed.

“Is, ah, Rafael, staying here, too?” Paris asked, keeping her tone light, casual.

“Of course.”

“But I thought you rented the villa for the bridal party.”

Cassandra frowned. “I did. Rafael is the master of ceremonies.”

“Of what?”

“The wedding, Einstein!”

“And you’re just telling me about this now!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, eyebrows raised, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize I needed your approval before making decisions about my New Year’s Eve wedding.”

Paris ignored the dig. Things just keep getting better! Her gaze landed on the bedroom window overlooking the backyard. She recalled her conversation with Rafael, wondered why he had given her the cold shoulder. Is he still mad about the way things ended? Their exchange had been plagued with silence, and had felt like the longest minute of her life. Paris didn’t want to stay at the villa, but she had few options. If she grabbed her stuff and left, Cassandra would flip out, and Paris didn’t want to get on her girlfriend’s bad side. “Are you sure Rafael’s the right person to emcee the wedding? He’s always been on the quiet side, and he hates public speaking.”

“Don’t be crazy. Of course I’m sure. He’s incredibly charming,” Cassandra said. “Once you get to know him you’ll see what an amazing guy he is.”

Girl, please, trust me, I know him. I’ve had that man in ways you wouldn’t believe!

“Rafael only arrived a few hours ago, but the bridesmaids are already fighting over him. Even the ones with boyfriends!” she said with a laugh.

“They are? Really?”

“Yeah, Stefano’s cousin, Julietta, told the other girls to back off or else.”

Paris didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. It was insane that after all these years she was still attracted to Rafael, but she was, and she didn’t want him sowing his wild oats while they were under the same roof. “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked, twirling a lock of Cassandra’s hair around the base of the curling iron. “I don’t like surprises, and I have a feeling you’re keeping something from me.”

“You’re paranoid.” With a grin, Cassandra added, “And horny! You want Rafael so bad desire is practically oozing from your pores.”

Paris wanted to tell her friend that she was dead wrong, but couldn’t get the words out. Am I that transparent? Did Rafael sense my desire? Is that why he ignored me earlier?

“It’s obvious you still like him, or you wouldn’t be so upset about seeing him again.” Her tone was confident. “Just admit it. You have the hots for him, and you want to rekindle your romance.”

“That’s ludicrous. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Yeah, but Rafael was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first love—”

“I know, I know,” Paris said glumly. “Don’t remind me.”

“As if you haven’t relived that night a million times in your mind.” Cassandra sighed dreamily, as if her heart was bursting with love, and touched a hand to her chest. “You said your first time was the most magical moment of your life.”

“I was a teenager. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Good, so I don’t have to worry about you and Julietta fighting over him, right?”

“Don’t worry. I’d never dream of doing anything to ruin your big day.”

Cassandra grabbed her hairbrush and pointed it at the mirror. “You better not, or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”

The women laughed. As Paris continued to style Cassandra’s hair, they discussed the sightseeing excursion planned for tomorrow, and the wedding rehearsal at the world-famous Frari Church in the evening. Everything was in place for Stefano and Cassandra’s New Year’s Eve ceremony, and Paris was so excited for the couple that she was anxious for the big day to finally arrive. Just because she didn’t believe in love, or the ridiculous notion of two people living happily ever after, didn’t mean she couldn’t support her best friend. Stefano was a great man, who treated Cassandra like a queen, and Paris was glad he’d finally popped the question and relocated to London to be with her. They were a dynamic couple, and Paris was thrilled that her friend was finally going to get her happy ending.

“If things get too overwhelming this weekend just let me know.” A sad smile touched Cassandra’s lips. “I’m here for you, Paris. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Quit stressing. I’m fine, really.”

“I know, but I worry that all this wedding stuff is going to bring back painful memories.”

Paris dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed the lump in her throat. Sadness consumed her, caused her heart to pound erratically. Willing herself not to cry, she bit the inside of her cheek. Three years ago, she’d dated a man she’d hoped to build a life with despite her feelings for Rafael, and now she was alone, forced to deal with the pain of her ex-boyfriend’s bitter betrayal.

Taking a deep breath, she cleared every troubling thought from her mind. Instead of dwelling on the past, she was going to focus on all the wonderful things in her life. She had a loving family, caring and supportive friends, and a successful career. Sure, she hated her job, and thought of quitting every day, but she’d rather suffer in silence than disappoint her father. Paris wanted to make him proud, craved and desired his approval more than anything in the world, and was determined to earn his respect.

“Have you spoken to Winston’s mother recently?”

Paris nodded, but didn’t elaborate on the hour-long conversation she’d had with the retired nurse days earlier. She couldn’t talk about her ex-boyfriend’s mother without getting emotional, and just thinking about the frail, elderly woman made her heart ache. She appreciated Cassandra’s concern, but knew if she didn’t change the subject quick she’d succumb to the clutches of grief and despair. And the last thing Paris wanted was to have an emotional breakdown.

“Don’t move.” Paris picked up the pink aerosol can on the vanity table, and sprayed Cassandra’s elegant up-do with hair sheen. “Voilà, you’re all done.”

“I love it, girl, thanks!” Touching the nape of her neck, Cassandra turned from right to left, admiring her chic hairstyle. “When are you going to quit working for your old man, and finally open a high-end beauty salon?”

Paris groaned. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again. It’s time you quit working for daddy dearest, and branch out.”

“We’ve talked about this ad nauseam. I’m not cut out to run my own business.”

“Of course you are,” Cassandra argued, propping a hand on her hip. “You got your MBA from one of the finest business schools in the country, and you graduated at the top of our class.”

Paris shook her head, refusing to give any thought to what her best friend said. Leaving Excel Construction wasn’t an option. Even though she loved doing hair and makeup, and always dreamed of owning a salon, she wasn’t about to leave her cushy executive job in Atlanta. Traveling the world, making great money and partying with wealthy, influential people was important to her. And if she quit working at her dad’s company, she’d have to kiss her fabulous social life goodbye. “I opened a salon back in the day, and it was a complete failure, remember?”

“Don’t be so cynical. You’re older and wiser now. Things will be different.”

“I can’t afford to take that risk. I still owe my dad thousands of dollars. I’ll be paying him back for many more years to come.”

Cassandra stood, gripped Paris’s shoulders and stared her down. “Then do what you do best—find some big-money investors and persuade them to back your salon.”

Leaning against the vanity table, Paris gave some thought to what her friend had said. It was a good idea, but she didn’t have the time or energy to take on such an enormous endeavor. Not when she had more responsibilities than ever. Besides, no one in their family ever defied her father, and Paris wasn’t about to start.

“I’m going to go change.” Selecting one of the dresses on the bed, Cassandra sashayed back inside the walk-in closet, and shut the door. Minutes later, she returned to the bedroom wearing a designer bejeweled gown. “How do I look?”

For effect, Paris hollered like a cheerleader. Her best friend had always been a low-key, no-fuss type of girl, but there she was, in her third dress of the night. She was draped in thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds, and her blue silk gown made her look as graceful as the Duchess of Cambridge. “I love the color of your dress, and how it shows off your killer bod. Your fiancé is one very lucky man!”

Giggling, the friends linked arms and exited the bedroom.

“We better hurry,” Cassandra said, as they slowly descended the spiral staircase. “It’s time for dessert, and if we’re late there’ll be nothing left. Julietta is a little, bitty thing, but boy, can that girl eat!”

Paris followed Cassandra through the grand foyer and out the French doors. Music, laughter and the pungent scents of fresh fruit and flowers filled the night air. With a dry mouth and an erratic heartbeat, Paris stepped inside the tent, hoping Rafael was long gone. At the thought of him, blood rushed through her veins. Try as she might, she couldn’t squelch the butterflies swarming around her stomach. He had a hold on her still, after all these years. One Paris didn’t understand, and couldn’t explain. Memories sneaked up on her, scrolled through her mind in slow motion. The first time they’d kissed and the nights they’d made love were deeply cherished memories, ones she had relived hundreds of times over the years, and nothing would ever change how much she’d once loved and adored Rafael Morretti.

Once loved him? her conscience repeated. When did you stop?

To that, Paris didn’t have an answer.