He grinned. “Come on back in. Simon won’t look.”
“No.” His casualness helped. Made her less likely to fall into his arms like every other woman.
“No?” he said very low, a small constraint in the word.
“Are you offended?”
A muscle briefly twitched in his lean cheek, then he grinned and said with teasing irony, “Fuck no. It’s just sex. I’ll catch you later.” His grin widened. “I’ll show you a good time whenever. Your call.”
She laughed, back in control, not entirely sure he hadn’t helped her get there. “You make me so crazy hot, I’m in the mood for just about anything.”
His smile lit up his eyes. “Now there’s incentive to up my game.”
“Hold that thought, Contini.” She offered up a sexy wink, then swung around and moved, all fancy-assed grace and awesomeness, toward the front door.
The doorman’s eyes looked like one of those cartoon character’s stunned by a gigantic hammer; he was opening the door in a slow-mo daze. Not that Rafe blamed the guy. Just watching Nicole’s sweet ass in her teeny, tiny flowered bikini sent all the blood in his brain south to his dick and he was seriously thinking: Screw the staff. Her bedroom door must have a lock.
Just as he was about to push the intercom button and tell Simon he was going to be gone a while, his phone rang. Shit. He briefly considered the possibility of divine intervention or random bad luck or both. But he’d been waiting for this ring tone, so he took a breath of restraint and tapped the Answer bar.
“Anatole and Bianca have been set ashore.” Carlos’s voice was professionally cool and composed. “I gave orders they weren’t to be allowed onboard again.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Carlos Sanz filled a variety of roles: personal attendant, lecturer, fixer. Ex–Basque separatist, ex–French Foreign Legion, ex-mercenary in lawless regions of the world, he’d been with Rafe a long time.
“Not a problem. Jack and Miss Kelly also left for the airport in Nice. Jack said you might be gone a few weeks. I know you told me that, but just double-checking.”
Rafe smiled. “Worried?”
Carlos grunted. “Skeptical.”
“I don’t blame you. I am too. But it is what it is.”
“Your stepfather will want to know your plans. He called me when you didn’t answer. I told him you’ve gone ashore with one of your guests and might have turned off your phone for a few hours.”
“Thanks. Whatever he needs can wait until tomorrow.” Anton had brought joy into his mother’s life, but if the term overprotective could be attributed to anyone it was his new stepfather. “If he calls you back, tell him as little as possible. Honestly, I’m not sure myself what my plans are.”
“I’ll do my best. But—”
“Do what you can.” Not that Rafe and his stepfather didn’t get along. In fact, Anton was a real asset to the company; his management skills were outstanding.
“Keep me in the loop. I’ll text you if any emergencies come up. But make sure you answer your mother’s calls.”
“I will. I might fly to Split for a few days. So far that’s all I know.”
“Do you want me to vet this girl?”
“Fuck no. No,” Rafe added more firmly. “Don’t even think it. She’s my new learning curve.”
“If you say so.”
That was too vague a reply. “I do, so chill.” Rafe exhaled. “At least for now. And if anyone asks, you don’t know her name. Although I expect you do.”
“Of course.”
Rafe chuckled. “The Mossad could only hope to have an intelligence service like yours.”
“Your mother worries,” Carlos said simply.
Rafe sighed. “I know.” He’d always been a target. For his wealth. For the Contini business that attracted industrial piracy. Because his father had introduced him into a vice-ridden, dangerous world. He didn’t blame his mother. But security had its down side on occasion.
“Miss Parrish is a refreshing change,” Carlos acknowledged. “Enjoy yourself. Just don’t forget your obligations.”
“Do I ever?”
“Not to date, no.”
“I’m not sure I like the insinuation I might. I won’t,” Rafe said brusquely. “But a word of warning: even if you find out Miss Parrish is a bigamist with six children and an empty bank account, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know yet. Clear?”
“Affirmative.”
Rafe slowly inhaled, held his breath for a tenuous second, exhaled, and said very softly, “It may not be a game this time, so I just want to play it out. Privately. In my own time.”