‘Just bring your quick wits along,’ he advised, lounging back in his chair.
‘I will,’ she vowed, eager to make a start on her homework for the night.
Trepidation successfully quelled, Rose was bouncing off the ceiling with anticipation in her dressing room later that same afternoon at the thought of the night ahead. A champagne receptionanda prince. Thank goodness Adena had arranged for such an amazing selection of fabulous gowns for Rose to choose from. Slipping into the green silk sheath she’d selected for the event, she gasped at the transformation in the mirror. She looked so elegant she could almost believe she belonged in Raffa’s very different world.
The phone rang, distracting her. It was Raffa wanting to know Rose had checked up on everything she was supposed to.
‘You sound breathless,’ he remarked. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right?’
Learning to walk in high heels with a skirt that wrapped around her like a mummy’s bandage wasn’t the easiest thing she’d ever had to do. ‘Perfect,’ she lied, steadying herself on a handy table as she kicked off the perilous heels.
‘You can’t be tense tonight,’ Raffa warned. ‘My guests will sense it, and they won’t relax if you don’t, which means no one will have a good time. Did you find something you’re happy to wear? If not, I can always arrange for the helicopter to take you to Monte Carlo to select something else.’
If that didn’t knock the air out of her chest, nothing would. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she managed with studied calm. ‘Thank you for the offer, but there’s more than enough choice here—’
Rose stared at the receiver in her hand as the line cut. What would Raffa think when he saw her in this? Was it too much? She smoothed her hand down the sleek silk clinging to her body like a second skin. No reaction from Raffa would be a slap in the face, while even the smallest reaction might steal her attention from the only thing that mattered tonight, which was promoting Rancho Raffa Acosta. No place-filler tonight, she would instead be co-hosting a party with a billionaire. And yes, it would be nice to have Raffa look at her with something more than speculation in his eyes, but there could be no loitering in the shadows this time. It would be full-on guest-hosting from the get-go.
Hair down, make-up on, and a spritz of scent later, she was ready to embark on the next stage of what she was coming to think of as Rose’s Remarkable Journey.
Glamorous evening? Bring it on.
Dressed overall, and with all lights blazing, thePegasuslooked fabulous tonight. Rose stood in awe for a moment in the entrance to the grand salon, the main reception area on the yacht, staring past all the trimmings to where one man stood alone on the deck. She didn’t need hand holding, which was just as well, as Raffa’s life was one long line of business discussions, so he’d doubtless have his own itinerary for tonight. ThePegasuswasn’t so much a billionaire’s folly as a floating necessity that allowed him to move his office around the world. No wonder he was such a polo fanatic. Playing the game was the only downtime this titan of the business world allowed himself.
She stopped in her tracks, hearing the first of the tenders approaching. Moments later the chatter of excited partygoers floated across the water. Changing direction, she prepared to greet the first of their guests.
It was accepted etiquette that everyone must be in place before the Prince arrived, and Rose was gripped by the same excitement as the rest at the thought of a royal visitor, but even that paled in comparison to watching Raffa circulate amongst his guests. He eclipsed everything and everyone around him. As distinguished as a prince, he was as sexy as humanly possible, having dressed for the occasion in an immaculately tailored white jacket and slim-fitting black trousers. With midnight blue sapphires flashing at the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, he was hot and hard, and heading her way. Fumbling in her evening purse, she cursed softly, only now remembering his missing cufflink was in another bag.Next time!She’d get it back to him tomorrow latest.
‘I see you found a dress,’ he commented.
Did that slight angling of his chin, and that look in his eyes, denote approval? ‘I did,’ she confirmed.
‘Great choice of gown,’ he said with the lift of a brow.
Sound faded as they stared at each other, until all she was aware of was Raffa. ‘I’m glad you approve.’
His lips slanted, as if to let her know that, whatever he thought of the dress, he knew she’d have worn it anyway. ‘You’ve also done a good job with the details.’
The flowers in her hair, or the addition of bite-sized canapés to accompany the flutes of champagne?
‘The guests you’ll meet tonight know how to enjoy themselves,’ Raffa informed her. ‘You’ll find the party achieves a momentum of its own.’
Like so many things, Rose thought, basking in awareness as Raffa placed a hand in the small of her back to guide her across the deck to the first of the people he’d like her to meet. This turned out to be a prominent professor at the forefront of animal therapy, and he and Rose were soon deep in conversation. She thanked Raffa silently with a warm glance. ‘You’re welcome,’ he murmured before moving away.
When Raffa returned, Rose and the professor were still talking animatedly. ‘You’ll have to excuse us, Professor,’ he apologised. ‘The Prince’s helicopter is due to land, and we must be there to greet him.’
‘Of course...’ The professor bowed over Rose’s hand. ‘I hope we have the chance to talk again very soon.’
‘You seem to have made a good impression there,’ Raffa remarked as they made their way to the helipad. ‘I’m glad. The professor’s important to me. He saved me at a time when I had so much anger inside me, it threatened to consume me. He made me see that animals could help to soothe the human spirit.’
‘They have an innate healing quality I’ve always been interested in pursuing,’ Rose confessed.
She could guess when Raffa had been at his lowest point, and was glad the professor had been able to help him. She only had to think back to how her own emotions had run the gamut after her mother’s death, from despair to hollow emptiness, and on to anger at the injustice of random fate, to understand the turmoil that so often accompanied grief. This was the most insight Raffa had given her, but now was not the time to draw him out even further. He’d tell her more when he was ready to—or, not at all.
He felt a jab of something unexpected as he watched the Prince talking to Rose. Had he ever experienced jealousy before? The Prince was charming, and Rose was easily the most attractive and interesting woman at the party, but she was no Cinderella, waiting for a prince to sweep her off her feet. She was a hard-working woman, who knew her job, and whose natural charm and ability to listen and be genuinely interested put everyone at ease. When the Prince moved away, Raffa watched Rose work the crowd with all the flair of an accomplished host. She made everyone feel special, and had quickly become the hub around which his party flowed. His one complaint was that the food had turned from savoury to sweet by the time she returned to his side.
‘You’ve arrived just in time to gorge on chocolate,’ he said as a steward offered them a plate full of sin.
Rose laughed. ‘Don’t tempt me.’
