kind of family crisis of her own, so this probably wasn’t the choice moment to crassly wave money in her face in the hope that he could whisk her away.
‘How on earth did you manage to lose Olivia?’
Rafe frowned at Charlie’s sudden, cheekily posed question.
‘Did you frighten her off?’ she asked, blue eyes blazing. ‘You didn’t hurt her, did you?’
Rafe was almost too affronted to answer. ‘Of course I didn’t hurt her.’ In truth, he’d barely touched her.
Instantly sobered by the news of his father’s death, he had dropped his playboy persona the very moment he and Olivia had left the party in Saint-Tropez. As they’d hurried back to Montaigne, Rafe had reverted to the perfect gentlemanly Prince. Apart from the few tipsy kisses they’d exchanged while they’d danced at the party, he’d barely laid a hand on the girl.
Of course, he’d been grateful to Olivia for agreeing to a hasty marriage of convenience, but since then he’d been busy dealing with formalities and his father’s funeral and his own sudden responsibilities.
‘I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ he told Charlie now with icy politeness.
She gave a distracted nod.
He took a step back, loath to let go of this lifeline, but fearing he had little choice. Charlie Morisset was clearly absorbed by her own worries.
‘I think Olivia might be my sister,’ she said.
Rafe stilled. ‘Is there a chance?’
She nodded. ‘I know that my mother lives somewhere in Europe. I—I’ve never met her. Well, not that I remember—’
Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and the tough, don’t-mess-with-me edge that Rafe had sensed in Charlie from the outset disappeared. Now she looked suddenly vulnerable, almost childlike.
To his dismay, he felt his heart twist.
‘I’ve met Olivia’s mother,’ he said. ‘Her name is Vivian. Vivian Belaire.’
‘Oh.’ Charlie looked as suddenly pale and upset as she had when she was speaking to her father on the phone. She seemed to sag in the middle, as if her knees were in danger of giving way. ‘That was my mother’s name,’ she said faintly. ‘Vivian.’
Rafe had been on the point of departure, but now, as Charlie sank onto a stool and let out a heavy sigh, he stood his ground.
‘I didn’t know she had another daugh—’ Charlie swallowed. ‘What’s she like? My mother?’
Rafe was remembering the suntanned, platinum blonde with the hard eyes and the paunchy billionaire husband, who’d had way too many drinks at the engagement ball.
‘She has fair hair, like yours,’ he said. ‘She’s—attractive. I’m afraid I don’t know her very well.’
‘I had no idea I had a sister. I knew nothing about Olivia.’
He wondered if this was an opening. Was there still a chance to state his case?
‘I can’t believe my father never told me about her.’ Charlie closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples as if a headache was starting.
Then she straightened suddenly, opened her eyes and flashed him a guilty grimace. ‘I can’t deal with this now. I have other problems, way more important.’
Disappointed, Rafe accepted this with a dignified bow. ‘Thanks for your time,’ he said politely. ‘I hope your other problems are quickly sorted.’
‘Thank you.’ Charlie dropped her gaze to her phone and began to scroll through numbers.
Rafe turned to leave. This dash to the southern hemisphere had been a fruitless exercise, a waste of precious time. His detectives would have to work doubly hard now to find Olivia.
‘But maybe I could see you this evening.’
Charlie’s voice brought him whirling round.
She looked rather forlorn and very alone as she stood at the counter, phone in hand. To Rafe’s dismay her eyes were glittering with tears.
So different from the tough little terrier who’d barked at him when he first arrived in her gallery.
Maybe I could see you this evening.
He wasn’t planning to hang around here till this evening. If Charlie couldn’t help him, he would leave Sydney as soon as his private jet was available for take-off.
But the news of her mother and sister had clearly rocked her, and it had come on top of a distressing phone call from her father. With some reluctance, Rafe couldn’t deny that he was part-way responsible for Charlie’s pain. And he couldn’t stifle a small skerrick of hope.
He was running out of time. If this was a dead end, he needed to hurry home, but if there was even a slight chance that she could help...
‘I’ve got the gallery to run and some important family business to sort out,’ Charlie said self-importantly. ‘But I’d like to know more about Olivia. Maybe we could grab a very quick coffee?’
Was it worth the bother of wasting precious hours for a very quick coffee? The chances of persuading this girl to take off with him were microscopic.
But what other options did he have? Olivia had well and truly gone to ground.
Rafe heard himself saying, ‘I could come back here at six.’
Charlie nodded. ‘Right, then. Let’s do that.’
* * *
By the end of the day, Charlie was feeling quite desperate. Her phone calls hadn’t produced promising results. Apart from launching a Save Isla charity fund, she didn’t have too many options. When she called her father she learned that he hadn’t fared any better.
After her very quick meeting with Rafe, she and her father planned to meet to discuss strategies, and Charlie knew she would be up all night, setting up a website and a special Facebook page, and responding to the media outlets she’d contacted during the day.
Unfortunately, there would be no time to challenge her father about Olivia. Charlie was deeply hurt that he’d never told her about her twin sister, but right now she had another sister to worry about, and she knew her dad was beside himself with worry. It was totally the wrong time to pester him about Olivia Belaire.
* * *
Promptly at six, Rafe was waiting at the gallery’s front door. To Charlie’s surprise, he’d changed into a black T-shirt and jeans, and the casual look, complete with a five o’clock shadow and windblown hair, made him look less like a corporate raider and more like—
Gulp.
The man of her dreams.
She quickly knocked that thought on the head. She was already regretting her impulsive request to see him again. There
