‘You might want to bring it with you. My assistant will continue the interviews, leaving you free for the rest of the day—’ He held up his hand when Rose began to interrupt. ‘The man taking over from you is Sofia’s trusted colleague. It was Sofia herself who—’
‘Sent in an enforcer?’ Rose suggested with an accusatory look.
He ignored that too. ‘When did you last eat or sleep? And don’t tell me you’re fine. I can see the exhaustion in your eyes. I’m here to help, Rose. I have resources. Use them. Allow others to pick up the slack before you fall asleep on the job.’
‘I can’t just walk out of here,’ she protested.
‘Why not? Delegate the rest of your work, and come back stronger and fresher.’
A wave of tiredness hit, making Rose sway in her seat. Just the mention of taking a break was so tempting. As was the concern in Raffa’s eyes. She couldn’t take much more of caring Raffa, before she ugly-sobbed and clung to him. And he did have a point. The retreat was well on its way to completion. They’d open soon, which would allow Rose to pull back from devoting every waking hour and most of the night to the project.
‘Ready?’ he asked from the door.
‘This won’t take long, will it?’ she asked, imagining a quick bite at the pub.
‘That depends on how long you’re going to take.’
The hint of a smile on Raffa’s face drew her out of the seat like a magnet. ‘I suppose I can take my lunch hour now.’
‘No suppose about it,’ he insisted.
But they didn’t stop at the pub. He took her in the car—she thought they were going to the Old Hall, to take a look at how things were going on. He drove straight past, continuing on to a destination unknown. ‘Where are we going?’ She glanced around as she sifted through the various possibilities in her mind.
‘To Spain,’ Raffa said casually.
‘What? I can’t go to Spain! I’m needed here.’
‘If I leave you here,’ he said calmly, ‘you’ll collapse with exhaustion. Thanks to your hard work the opening of the retreat has been brought forward. I see no reason why you can’t supervise the rest of the project remotely, as I do with many of my business concerns. Your father’s in safekeeping until he takes up his place at my sister’s retreat in Ireland, so there’s no reason why you can’t take a break. I can’t be sure you’ll do that, unless you come home with me.’
Home.Home with Raffa? Rose glanced around. ‘This is my home,’ she protested.
‘You can’t have two homes? You can supervise the therapy programmes remotely. Come back for a rest. Give yourself a chance to think clearly.’
If she was honest, for once in her life she was almost glad to be offered the chance to take a breath. ‘So, I shouldn’t worry about you trying to control me?’
Raffa huffed a laugh at that. ‘I control my work and my horses. I have zero desire to control you—that’s even if I could, which, I’m happy to say, I can’t. I wouldn’t change a thing about you—apart from your stubbornness when it comes to refusing to think about yourself.’
He wanted the best for Rose. Having seen her so free in his arms, he wanted her free all the time. She was working herself to death, trying to save everyone and everything, when it was as clear as day that what Rose needed was saving from herself.
‘The airstrip,’ she exclaimed as they passed through the gates. ‘But my letter of resignation’s in the post.’
‘So? I haven’t read it yet,’ he said with a shrug. Nor would he. ‘This isn’t about work, Rose. It’s about you taking a well-earned rest.’
She gave him one of her looks. ‘You have to kidnap me to make me rest?’
‘Appears so,’ he agreed.
The look on Rose’s face pierced his heart in a thousand different places. She was too tired to think straight, but his thoughts were all in order. ‘I want you back, Rose. You don’t belong behind a desk, organising schedules.’
‘There’s a lot more to my job at the retreat than scheduling.’
‘Training therapists?’ he suggested. ‘Trying to pass on the fairy dust that makes you so special? Come on, Rose, you’re a hands-on woman with exceptional skills. Are you happy to throw all that away?’
Rose couldn’t pretend she didn’t have doubts about the direction her career was taking. Once she’d set up the therapy programme there’d be very little hands-on work for her to do. Was it the loss of control or the loss of Raffa that was turning her upside down? There’d been no controlling her father in one of his rages. Had that left its mark? Was Raffa trying to control her, or was he trying to help?
‘You don’t have to devote every waking moment to work,’ Raffa insisted.
‘Says you, who’s mired in work,’ she pointed out.
