CEO. Think about it.’ He gave a shrugging kind of smile. ‘It could never work.’
Oh, the arrogant, arrogant man! Sophie resisted the urge to pick up the nearest hard object and hurl it at him, before telling herself that behaving rashly wouldn’t improve anything and it would compromise any remaining dignity. But at least his attitude made her decision easier. There would be no confidences shared with this particular Englishman. She wasn’t going to tell him a single thing about herself—why should she, when he obviously couldn’t wait to get away from her?
Some of her inbuilt royal confidence came rushing back as she returned his stare. ‘I think you flatter yourself,’ she said coolly as she got out of bed and picked up the discarded towel which was lying in a heap on the floor. ‘I agree with every word you say. It was nothing but an initiation to sex and a pretty amazing one. So thanks for that—but rest assured that I’m not looking for commitment either. I told you that in the pool. Maybe I should have let on that I was a virgin but I didn’t want to destroy the mood. And since you’re such a busy globetrotting CEO who is flying out of here tomorrow, I’d better let you get some peace so you can sleep. Goodnight, Rafe.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘Sweet dreams.’
And Sophie felt a very different kind of satisfaction as she saw the expression of disbelief on Rafe Carter’s face just before she turned and walked out of his bedroom.
RAFE WAS WOKEN by the insistent sound of his phone vibrating and he stifled a groan as he picked it up. It was one of several he owned but the only one whose number was given to those closest to him. He glanced at the flashing screen to see that it was William, one of his assistants, calling from New York. He frowned. William was in a completely different time zone and had strict instructions not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary.
He hit the button and waited.
‘Rafe?’
‘Of course it’s me! Who else did you think it would be? It’s five o’clock in the flaming morning!’ Rafe answered, his mood not enhanced by the sight of Sophie’s discarded swimsuit lying on the floor of the en-suite bathroom. Or by the fact that an image of her face had been haunting him for hours, meaning that he’d only fallen into a fitful sleep a restless hour ago.
A rush of heat flooded through his groin as he remembered the sex of the night before. Remembered her beautiful body laid out like a feast on top of his sheets with those big blue eyes looking up at him and her long legs parted in invitation. And she had been a virgin, he reminded himself grimly. She hadn’t bothered telling him that before she had thrust her wet breasts against him in the swimming pool, had she?
Because women had their secrets, he thought bitterly. Every damned one of them keeping stuff hidden away and not caring about the consequences.
And sometimes their secrets became your secrets and they gnawed away deep inside you until there was nothing but a dark and empty hole.
He sat up, his fingers tightening around the phone. ‘I thought I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary,’ he bit out.
His assistant’s voice grew serious. ‘This is very necessary, Rafe.’
Rafe stilled, because even though he came from the world’s most dysfunctional family, they were still family. Yet if somebody was ill, it wouldn’t be his assistant ringing him. It would be Amber, or one of his half-brothers, surely. ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded. ‘Is someone sick?’
‘No. Nobody’s sick.’
‘What, then?’ questioned Rafe impatiently.
There was a split-second pause. ‘That girl you’ve got working at the station.’
‘Sophie,’ said Rafe instantly and then could have cursed himself. Surely he should have taken longer than a nanosecond to recall the name of one of his itinerant workers. ‘The cook.’
‘She’s not a cook.’
‘She may have only the most basic of culinary skills, but I can assure you she most certainly is.’
‘She’s a princess.’
There was a pause. ‘William, have you been drinking?’
‘She’s a princess from Isolaverde,’ his assistant continued doggedly. ‘One of the world’s richest islands. Gold, diamonds, petroleum, natural gas, uranium. They hold some international yacht race every year. They’ve even—’
‘I get the idea, William. And I’ve heard of it. Get on with it.’
‘She’s young and beautiful—’
You’re telling me. ‘The facts,’ bit out Rafe.
‘She was engaged to some prince. Prince Luciano of Mardovia—known as Luc. Bit of a player—lived on another Mediterranean island—known each other since they were kids. Just before the engagement was due to be announced he goes and makes some English dressmaker pregnant. Big scandal. He was forced to marry the dressmaker—so the wedding with Princess Sophie had to be called off. And that’s when she disappeared.’
‘Disappeared?’ repeated Rafe slowly, his mind spinning as he tried to get his head round the relevant facts. Not just the fact that the name Luc rang a distant bell in his memory, but a far more worrying one. He’d just had sex with a virgin princess?
‘Into thin air. She ran away. Or rather, flew away. Nobody really knew about it because her brother instigated an information lockdown. And no one had any idea where she was. At least, not until now.’ Another pause. ‘They know she’s at Poonbarra, Rafe.’
‘And how...?’ Rafe drew in a deep breath. ‘How the hell do they know that?’
‘Seems like Eileen Donahue—that’s the woman who runs the general store in Corksville—recognised Sophie yesterday. Said she was, and I quote, “All dolled up for a change” and that she seemed “familiar”. So she looked her up on the Internet—and what do you know? Sophie is familiar. She’s royal, no less. Eileen contacted one of the papers in Brisbane and I’m afraid the rest is exactly how you imagine it would be. The journalists did their research and I’m ringing to say that you can expect a deputation of the world’s press on your doorstep before too long.’
Rafe’s fingers clasped the phone so tightly that he heard his knuckles crack. ‘That can’t be allowed to happen, William,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t want a circus invading town. Poonbarra is a place of privacy. The one place in the world where I am guaranteed peace. I want you to kill this story and I want you to kill it now.’
‘I don’t see how that’s going to be possible, boss. It’s already got legs.’
‘Well, just get me out of here before they arrive.’ Rafe’s voice was cold.
There was a pause. ‘Let me see what I can do.’
Rafe swore as he cut the connection and resisted the desire to crush the phone in the palm of his hand. Pushing back the sheet, he got out of bed, trying to temper his mood and think rationally—even though all he wanted to do was storm through the homestead to find Sophie Doukas and give her a piece of his mind. Another wave of anger enveloped him. Not only had she kept her innocence secret, but she’d omitted to tell him that she was a royal. A royal on the run! Deceitful woman. Scheming woman.
Anger and resentment washed over him but he could still smell her on his skin and taste her in his mouth and it was tantalising and distracting. Even the thought of her was making his body grow hard, so he forced himself to stand beneath the icy jets of the shower, which did little to cool his heated blood. Dragging a razor across his jaw, he somehow managed to nick his skin in the process and that only increased his frustration.
Pulling on a shirt and a pair of trousers, he went looking for her but, since it wasn’t quite six, the house