after he had safely delivered Daisy back to Margo and Jeff, anyway….
Cairo was still smiling as she looked across the table at him. ‘What travel arrangements have you made for Daisy and me?’
‘For all three of us,’ Rafe corrected.
Cairo’s smile faded. ‘But you can’t leave yet—’
‘I can do what I please, Cairo.’ Rafe scowled.
‘But what about the film festival?’
‘What about it?’
Cairo shrugged. ‘I assumed you needed to be there to collect your award.’
‘If I win an award, my assistant director can pick it up,’ Rafe dismissed without concern. ‘It’s more important to get you and Daisy back to England.’
‘I’m quite capable of getting myself and Daisy back to England, thank you very much—’
‘I have a private jet organized to fly us out this afternoon,’ he cut in abruptly in a tone that brooked no argument.
Cairo frowned as she slowly released Daisy. ‘But I came over in my car….’
‘I’ve also made arrangements for your car to be collected and driven back to England.’
Her brows rose at his arrogance. ‘I really would rather drive my own car back, if you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind in the least,’ Rafe drawled. ‘But you might want to look at these before making a definite decision on that …’ He pushed a pile of newspapers across the table towards her.
Cairo glanced down at the newspapers, her eyes widening as the very first one in the pile, an English publication, had a front-page photograph of herself and Rafe smiling at each other as they sat at the table together in the square in Grasse.
Cairo became very still as she pulled the tabloid newspaper further across the table. Although that hadn’t been necessary in order to be able to read the three inch headline above the photograph: CAIRO AND RAFE FIND LOVE IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE!
Not exactly subtle. But, then, were any of the tabloids?
‘More photographs and story on page three’ was the smaller announcement beneath that damning photograph.
What story? Cairo wondered incredulously. Until she and Rafe returned to the villa last night there hadn’t been a story—
Oh, no …!
No!
Cairo could feel herself paling even as she quickly turned to page three, her breath leaving her in a relieved gasp as she saw that the ‘story’ actually only consisted of half a dozen more photographs of herself and Rafe together yesterday in Grasse.
‘That man didn’t take a single photograph of me, Aunty Cairo,’ Daisy told her indignantly.
‘Didn’t he, love?’ she answered distractedly as she moved on to the next newspaper in the pile.
This one, and the other four, all had photographs of herself and Rafe as they arrived at the party in Cannes together the previous evening.
Not a single one of those reporters had been enterprising enough to follow them back to the villa last night in the hopes of taking intimate photographs of her and Rafe together. Thank goodness!
She and Rafe looked good together, she realized with a fierce frown. With her wearing three inch heels they were of a similar height, Rafe’s dark hair and swarthy skin a perfect foil for her own fairer colouring as they stood close together, Rafe’s hand resting lightly beneath her elbow, a confident smile curving his lips.
Looks can be deceptive, Cairo decided firmly as she pushed the newspapers away to look across the table at the man himself. ‘Your point is …?’
God, she was beautiful when she was being haughty, Rafe acknowledged admiringly. If a little lacking in perception! ‘Surely it’s obvious? You turn up anywhere today expecting to travel home by public transport and you’re going to be mobbed by yet more reporters.’
‘Damn!’ She grimaced. ‘Damn, damn, damn!’
Rafe relaxed back in his chair as he regarded her mockingly. ‘Are you sure that’s appropriate language to use in front of Daisy?’
‘Daddy says damn isn’t swearing, Uncle Rafe,’ Daisy told him brightly. ‘And neither is—’
‘I think your daddy is using a lot of poetic licence, Daisy,’ Rafe teased. ‘Still not want to come on the plane with us this afternoon, Cairo?’ He arched quizzical brows.
Cairo didn’t want to go anywhere with Rafe, not this afternoon or at any other time! But neither was she stupid enough to turn down the offer when the alternative was sure to turn out to be the nightmare Rafe had just described.
She sighed with resignation. ‘What time do you want us to be ready to leave?’
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. ‘Two o’clock should do it. We— Who the hell is that?’ He scowled darkly as he stood up to glare down at the car driving up the private road to the villa.
Cairo stood up to stand beside him, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thought she knew exactly who it was.
Either another enterprising reporter.
Or, more likely, it was Lionel …
He had left three messages on her mobile during the night. The first had been pleasant as he told her how nice it had been to see her again yesterday evening.
The second one had started out pleasant enough, too, with him asking her to meet with him so that they could talk. Unfortunately, as so often happened, it had deteriorated into insults after that as Lionel, obviously the worse for champagne, accused her of having been involved in an affair with Rafe all the time they had been married. As if! Cairo hadn’t even been able to bear being on the same continent as Rafe for the last few years, let alone share the same bed after what he’d done to her.
Also predictably, the third message had been Lionel apologizing for the previous abusive one!
Cairo hadn’t returned any of those calls. What was the point? She might still feel a certain amount of guilt where Lionel was concerned, had always felt that her lack of love for him had contributed to his addiction for gambling, but all the guilt in the world couldn’t change the fact that they both knew their marriage was over.
‘Do you want me to deal with this if it’s another reporter?’ Rafe asked grimly, turning to look at Cairo as she made no response.
She was staring intently at the car as it slowly came up the service road, her dark eyes shadowed above hollow cheeks.
‘Cairo …?’ he prompted.
She drew in a ragged breath before turning to look at him. ‘I— Would you mind taking Daisy down to the pool or something?’ she muttered.
‘Why
