"Ah."Roarke's voice carries just the right note of polite interest."The food industry can be quite volatile, I understand.Reputation is everything."
The subtle warning in his tone isn't lost on Saskia, whose cheeks flush slightly.
"Yes, well," she says quickly, "I should probably...mingle.Enjoy your evening."
She practically flees toward the other end of the yacht, leaving us alone under the stars.
"Should I ask what that was about?"Roarke asks, turning me in his arms so I'm facing him.
“Oh, nothing.”I shrug.“Sometimes the universe has a sense of humor about these things."
"Mmm."His hands slide down to rest on my hips."And how are you feeling about your place in this universe?"
I look around at the yacht full of people who've become friends, at the south of France stretching endlessly around us, at the man holding me and making my heart beat a million reps per minute.
"Like I finally belong somewhere," I say honestly.
"Good."He leans down to kiss me."Because I have plans for you, Miss Rossi."
"What kind of plans?"
"The kind that involve showing you exactly how much I love having you in my life."His voice drops to that low rumble that still makes my pulse race."Starting with some alone time.Right now."
"Roarke," I laugh, "we can't just disappear from Connor and Ariana's party."
"Watch us.”He tilts his head toward a shadowed alcove off the main corridor.“Come with me.”
The alcove is tucked behind a glass wine wall, dimly lit, quiet except for the muted bass from the DJ.
The view through the porthole is all moonlight and shifting water.His large hands are on my waist, sliding up my spine, his mouth claiming mine with the kind of kiss that makes my knees threaten mutiny.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says against my lips, his deep voice gravelly and rough.
“Pretty sure I do,” I murmur, fisting the lapel of his jacket.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”The words are warm—heavy as he kisses me once.Twice.Wrapping his muscular arms around me.
“You have,” I groan out loud.“But it never hurts to hear again.I love you too, Roarke.”
We’re half a second from forgetting the party entirely when?—
“Baaaahhh.”
We both freeze.
A blur of cream-colored fur and sequins ambles into view, head cocked like she’s just stumbled upon the most scandalous thing she’s seen all evening.Which, given that this is Connor’s party, is saying something.
I blink.“Is that… a goat?”
Roarke exhales slowly.“Unless there’s another couture-wearing Nubian with a gold bow in yachting circles, that’s Buttercup.”
Buttercup bleats again—louder this time—then plants herself squarely between us, clearly not planning to leave without food or attention.
I bite my lip, grinning.“Well, Captain Cockblock, I think our audience is ready.”
Roarke’s smoky blue gaze slides to the goat, then back to me.“I don’t perform for anyone but you, Miss Rossi.”
“Good,” I whisper, leaning in—only for Buttercup to nudge me hard enough to stumble a step back.
