Never Say No to a Caffarelli

* * *

Rafe’s apartment was more like a villa than an apartment. It was a six bedroom luxuriously appointed property not far from the Ritz Hotel overlooking Jardin des Tuileries. It was definitely the top end of town. For Poppy, who had only ever travelled on a shoe-string budget, it was certainly an eye opener. She tried not to act too star struck or over-awed but it was impossible not to feel a little envious of the wealth Rafe had at his fingertips.

Rafe had organised dinner at Moulin Rouge in Montmartre and Poppy sat transfixed as the can can show Paris was famous for played out so vibrantly and colourfully before her. After the show he took her to another venue where there was live music and dancing.

‘But I’m rubbish at dancing,’ Poppy protested when he took her by the hand to lead her to the dance floor.

‘Just follow my lead,’ he said, drawing her close against him.

It was hard at first not to think everyone was looking at her tripping over her own feet, but after a while she started to relax as Rafe led her in a slow waltz to the tune of a romantic ballad.

‘See?’ he said against her hair. ‘You’re a natural.’

‘You’re a very good teacher,’ Poppy said, looking up at him.

His pitch-black eyes glinted. ‘You’re a very fast learner, ma petite.’

She moved against him and shivered in delight when she felt his arousal. ‘I guess I should make the most of my limited time under your tutelage,’ she said flippantly.

His lips pressed together and his eyes lost their light spark. ‘We should get going,’ he said, dropping his arms from around her. ‘It’s getting late and I have an early meeting in the morning.’

Poppy mentally kicked herself for spoiling a perfectly good evening. What was the point of reminding him their relationship was temporary? She trudged after him with her spirits sagging like sodden sheets on a clothes line. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with what she had rather than what she didn’t have? Most girls would give anything to have a week or two with someone like Rafe. She had seen the envious looks from other women all evening. Rafe’s good looks and aura of power and authority were incredibly head-turning. What right did she have to insist on more from him when they had only known each other such a short time?

The problem was she knew he was ‘the one’. She had known that the first time he had kissed her. His love-making had only reinforced her conviction. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. She didn’t want to be with anyone else.

Once they were out on the street, Poppy touched him on the forearm. ‘Rafe, I’m sorry. I’m being a cow. It must be the jet lag.’

His fingers enveloped her hand and gave it a tiny squeeze. ‘I understand you want to feel more secure, mon coeur. Let’s just take it a day at a time, hmm? I have a lot on my mind right now with my work.’

‘I’m sorry...I didn’t realise,’ she said. ‘Is your meeting tomorrow worrying you?’

He tucked her arm through his as they walked back to the car. ‘There are always worries when you are responsible for people’s jobs and careers. Tomorrow’s meeting is with one of my accountants based here. For a while now I’ve had some concerns that he’s been fudging the books now and again. I’ve had an independent audit done. The results will be put on the table tomorrow. It’s not looking good.’

‘Oh no, that’s awful,’ Poppy said.

‘Yes.’ He gave her a brief glance before turning his gaze ahead, resigned. ‘I’m not looking forward to it. He’s got a wife and young family. He’s worked for me since he graduated from university. It’s hard not to feel betrayed.’

‘There’s no worse feeling, is there?’ Poppy said. ‘That someone you trusted has exploited you.’

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. ‘Is that what happened with your boyfriend?’

Poppy grimaced. ‘I hate even thinking of him as my boyfriend now. Thank God I didn’t sleep with him. I’d have been feeling even more foolish now if I had.’

He tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘I was talking to Howard Compton about you the other day.’

Poppy lifted her brows. ‘I didn’t know you two were friends.’

He gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I drop in every day or so for a wee dram, as he calls it. I can’t stand whisky but I haven’t got the heart to tell him. I enjoy his company. He’s a nice old chap. Nothing like my grandfather, which is probably why I like him so much.’