CHAPTER EIGHT
WHENHECALLEDherPrincesathis time, his voice wasn’t full of bitterness. It was soft, gentle. Intimate.
But Marianna was still struggling to make sense of Simon’s revelation about her father, to fit it into her understanding of...well, everything. That Alex Ruiz would unfairly threaten someone’s business wasn’t news, not even to her. But false rumors of rape? Marianna thought she had let go of all illusions of her father long ago, but her jaded picture of him didn’t include this. Simon’s abrupt break with her, his coldness—it all made more sense now. But the idea that her father had so coldly orchestrated her devastation was too much to process.
As this information churned in her mind, Simon stood with the car door open for her, all these years later, watching her. It wasn’t just the past that was taking new shape. Simon’s new life was coming into view, and as she stepped out of the car onto the beachside road, Marianna tried her best not to act stunned. She really tried. But one look at Simon’s raised eyebrows suggested she wasn’t succeeding.
Because...wow.
It was, quite simply, one of the most beautiful places for a house that she could imagine. Slowly, she breathed in the heavy ocean air. Marianna couldn’t take her eyes from rolling waves and the stretch of white sand below, as Simon and the driver got the luggage from the trunk. The town car zoomed away, leaving only a few feet of pavement between her and the cliff down to Bondi Beach.
“You like the view?” asked Simon, close behind her.
“It’s gorgeous.”
But she knew it was more to him than a beautiful view. He had achieved the kind of financial success his father had dreamed of. Like any decent cyberstalker, Marianna had spent the past week searching for details about Simon’s life in Australia, but this place was a total surprise. The sleek, modern house on Australia’s most famous beach was definitely expensive, but it didn’t scream wealth. It said confidence.
Simon was watching her. “Not what you expected?” he asked, his expression guarded.
“I guess I thought I’d find you in some penthouse apartment with a doorman,” she said, her mouth curving up. “I expected over-the-top luxury, not...this.”
She gestured out at the rolling waves. A warm gust of wind blew from the water, and Marianna took a long breath of salty air. The familiar ocean scent triggered a wave of nostalgia through her, and she closed her eyes. She and William had lived north of Miami, in a gated community with country-club-like amenities. Nice, different, but the novelty had worn off quickly. She had missed this feeling.
“I always liked the ocean,” said Simon. “It was what my father loved—to live near the water, the way he had as a kid in Cuba. If he had survived, this is what he would have wanted.”
“Is it what you wanted, too?” she asked.
He laughed. “There are a lot of things I wanted.” He laced his hands behind his head, and his smile faded. Simon was so close, so still. Something was changing between them, but she didn’t know what it was.
He grabbed her bags from the sidewalk and pointed to the now-open garage with a sleek black sports car parked inside. “This way. We can have some lunch and then can head out. We’ll make it up to the Hunter Valley before dinner.”
She squeezed by the car and started up the staircase to the ground floor of the house. Built on the slope of the cliff, there wasn’t much of a first floor. It was the second floor where the place really took off. Open, with the kitchen off to the side, the white walls unadorned. He didn’t have much in the way of furniture, but there were a couple surfboards in the corner and a balcony that stretched along the beach side of the house.
“So you surf now,” she said. “Are you any good?”
He shrugged. “Decent. Bought a board when I moved in. I’m up early anyway, so it seemed like a good way to start my morning.”
Marianna looked out the window at the surfers who dotted the near side of the beach, spread out in the rolling waves. This place was a whole new side of Simon. She pictured him leaning on his balcony railing, shirtless, hair tossed from sleep, watching the water. All by himself in this big house.
Or maybe he wasn’t usually by himself. How many other women had caught a glimpse of this side of Simon while she’d gone about her life back in Miami? The thought sent a dull ache through her gut. Other women had kissed him in this room, lain naked beside him, slept in his bed and drunk coffee from one of his mugs in the morning. Other women who probably knew this man better than she did.
Marianna turned to him. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a little late for that question, isn’t it?”
“Never mind.” She crossed her arms. Stupid idea.
“No,” he said after a while. “No girlfriend.”
Marianna closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m just thinking about how much of you I don’t know.”
His footsteps echoed through the room, and when she opened her eyes, Simon was right in front of her, everywhere, his big body looming over her. He cupped her chin with his hand and looked right at her with that dark gaze. His scent was intoxicating.
He traced her jaw slowly with his thumb. “There have been times I’ve thought about all the things I don’t know about you. I thought about it every time I saw a picture of you smiling at some red-carpet event with William Rooney III. I imagined all the things he got to do with you.”
His other hand slipped to her waist, and he drew her in flush with him, letting her know exactly what kinds of things he meant. Her body was perfectly tuned for the low timbre of his voice. His muscles were tense and his body hot through the layers of clothes. The beginning of an erection twitched against her stomach, urgent, demanding, setting off sparks deep inside her.
Simon leaned closer, his lips close to hers. “Because if I were the one who married you, I would have kept you up every single night, wanting more. I would have made you feel so good.”
