as it is, thank you.’
‘Spanish oranges,’ he said, his dark face brightening with a smile. ‘The best.’
‘You’re partial.’
‘Yes, I am,’ he agreed, holding her gaze a beat too long.
It was long enough for her heart to pound out of control. Raffa was so worldly, and it was almost funny, the two of them being here together, when Skavanga was just one stop on Raffa’s round-the-world tour of his international business interests, and she had never been outside the town except for university, and even then she’d only gone a few miles down the road to the local college. As soon as she had qualified, she’d scuttled back to the place she knew best, the place she felt safest, where she could hide away in the archive department of a mining museum where it was quiet, and where there was no chance of meeting a wife beater, or an alcoholic. Or anyone for that matter.
‘So you’ve stayed in Skavanga all your life, Leila? Leila?’ Raffa prompted, his voice shaking her round.
She’d been trapped in the past, sitting on the stairs, listening to her parents arguing and hearing the inevitable thump when her mother hit the floor. And now, judging by the concerned look on Raffa’s face, he was joining her on this trip down memory lane too.
‘Yes, I’ve been here all my life,’ she confirmed brightly to make up for her lapse in concentration.
She was actually quite good at being jolly. She’d had plenty of practice over the years. Having been totally eclipsed by her beautiful sisters, she’d had the choice of being the mouse in the background, or the jolly sister. She’d perfected both. ‘I’ve always been close to my brother and sisters.’ At least, she had been, until her brother, Tyr, had gone missing.
‘It’s great to have siblings,’ Raffa agreed, ‘even if you don’t always get along.’
‘We get along. I just miss my brother, and I wish I knew where he was.’ Her stare met Raffa’s, but, if he knew where Tyr was, he wasn’t telling. ‘I know it must look to you as if my sisters run roughshod over me, but believe me, Raffa, I can hold my own.’
‘I never doubted it,’ he agreed, to her surprise.
But as Raffa’s smile faded, and a shadow crossed his face, she wondered about his family. She also realised they had relaxed into the last thing she had imagined sharing with Raffa Leon, which was a meaningful conversation.
‘What about you?’ she prompted gently. ‘What about your family, Raffa?’
The look he shot her made her regret asking. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to probe.’
‘That’s all right,’ he said, sitting back. He shrugged. ‘Apart from the three brothers and two sisters I do know about, I’m told I have countless half brothers and sisters across the globe, thanks to the untiring efforts of my father.’
‘And your mother—?’ That was one question she definitely shouldn’t have asked, Leila realised, breaking off when she saw the expression on Raffa’s face. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘Don’t be,’ he interrupted. ‘I was lucky enough to spend most of my youth with my grandmother. As soon as my elder brothers and sisters went off to college, my father made it quite clear that he was done with children.’
‘So there was no place at home for you?’
He didn’t answer that. He didn’t need to. What Raffa had told her explained so much about him. He was the lone wolf, dangerous, hidden and unknowable.
‘I’d like to meet your grandmother,’ she said, trying to bring him back to the present. ‘She must be an amazing woman.’
‘To take me on?’ Raffa queried, relaxing into a laugh. ‘She is. And maybe you will meet her one day, Leila.’
He was just being polite, but it was a relief to see him smiling again.
‘And you grew up with your sisters and brother,’ he prompted.
‘Who always teased me unmercifully,’ she confirmed.
‘And you don’t mind that?’
‘I tease them back. Families,’ she added with a smile and a shrug.
Raffa huffed softly and smiled back at her.
His eyes were so incredibly expressive they warmed her right through. The fact that Raffa was as hot as hell should have been warning enough for her to back off, but he was like a magnet drawing her closer, against her will. ‘My sisters tease me because they love me as much as I love them,’ she said to break the sudden electric tension between them. ‘I guess they’re always trying to make up for—’
‘Your mother dying when you were so very young,’ Raffa cut in.
The concern on his face surprised her. ‘I suppose... Anyway, they’ve been great.’ Massive understatement. ‘Tyr too—’ She stopped as the familiar ache washed over her.
‘Your brother will come home one day soon, Leila.’
‘You say that with such certainty. Have you heard from Tyr?’ There was excitement in her voice, but Raffa disappointed her by saying nothing. And why was she surprised? Leila and her sisters had always suspected that the three men in the consortium knew exactly where Tyr was, but none of them would reveal his whereabouts. The four men had been at school together, and then again in Special Forces, so their loyalties cut deep. But still, she had to try. ‘All I care about is that he’s safe, Raffa.’
Her heart lurched as she stared deep into eyes that held her gaze steadily.
‘Please don’t ask me questions about your brother, Leila, because I can’t tell you the answers you want to hear.’
‘You won’t tell me,’ she argued.
‘That’s right,’ Raffa agreed levelly. ‘I won’t.’
‘But perhaps you could tell me he’s safe?’
There was a long pause, and then Raffa said, ‘He’s safe.’
‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded through her as she sat back. Tyr was safe. That was all she needed to hear, and the thought that Raffa knew her brother so well made everything she’d heard about him pale into insignificance.
‘Tell me about your job at the museum, Leila.’
She relaxed. There was nothing she loved more than talking about her job. She enjoyed working at the museum so much she could talk about it endlessly. ‘It’s my passion—’ She didn’t need to try now. The words just came pouring out. ‘I’d love to show you round. It’s amazing. I wish you could see all the things we’ve found. To think my ancestors used them. And every day there’s a new discovery...’ She stopped in case she was boring him, but Raffa encouraged her to go on. And so it all came pouring out—her plans for the museum, her hopes and dreams for the future of the work she loved, her classes, her workshops, her tours, the exhibitions she had planned.
‘I am so sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I must have bored the socks off you. No one can
