by him to leave. Feeling the calluses in her palm, he pulled up her hand.
Her fingers were long and bare, with calluses at the tips of most. He had a sudden flash of Allegra’s perfectly manicured nails with baby-soft skin.
“Why do you have calluses?” All this was just to know her, he reminded himself. To create a picture of her life for himself. To see if there were any holes in it. To see if a lie would crack through her elaborate pretense.
Or it’s because, for the first time in years, you can’t stop yourself from touching a woman. Because the need to touch her, to taste her, is pounding in your blood.
Fingers tracing his palm, sending pulses of heat through him, she frowned. He felt as if he had been earthed. “I could ask you the same. I thought CEOs had pampered, manicured hands and wore tacky, gold bracelets.”
A strange, masculine satisfaction whirled through him.
“I’m an automobile engineer first, a CEO second. I restore vintage cars when I find time.” He was already stretched superthin as it is and now this—her. “Which is very little. Now tell me, why do you have calluses?”
“I carve wooden toys in my free time. A hobby really. Frank—” a stiffness thinned her mouth “—set up an online shop for me. The cash always came in handy and my students’ parents provided good word of mouth.”
The man’s name on her lips pulled Raphael back to the matter.
She blinked owlishly, as if trying to keep him in focus. He clenched his jaw tight. More pieces were falling into place.
If she was conning all of them, he would see her in jail. But Raphael was forced to rethink his misgivings, to consider Gio’s trust might not be misplaced. She knew things about Lucia and Gio that no one did, at least, that was what Gio had told him.
Also, he was a good judge of character.
He’d been forced to be after his father’s suicide. He’d had to learn on his feet which creditor could be counted on to wait, which creditor was loyal to his father’s tarnished memory and which one would revel in humiliating his mother and sisters if Raphael came up short.
If she was innocent... He could hardly bear thinking about the hordes of hungry, young, single Milanese men that would descend on her... Just tonight, it had taken every ounce of the force of his ruthless reputation to beat off the men who had wanted to follow her.
Men who’d have stood in his place right now and watched moonlight sparkle in her eyes, seen the wet swimsuit cling to her toned, lithe body, seen the artless display of grief and joy that came into her eyes when she spoke of Lucia and Giovanni.
“If I have to carve a million toys to pay Giovanni back, I will,” she said with a fierce pride shining in her eyes.
He hardened his tone. “Even if you’re telling the truth, I can’t just let you walk away without making sure that you’ve not crushed his heart,” he added for good measure.
Her soft sigh pinged over his nerves. Did she know how arousing that was? Did she even realize that the sight of her big, searching gaze, the way she stared at a man as if she meant to see through to his soul, could do things to a man she might not want?
“Why do you think I agreed to that—” she pointed to the house now cloaked in dark shadows “—ridiculous show? Telling Gio about Frank probably wasn’t a good idea. All those men he invited, the way they were crowding around me... I didn’t realize his intentions until you pointed out how much attention I was getting. Clearly, he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”
He’d been cruel to taunt her like that. Not that he was off the mark. But there was also an attraction to her that was rare. It was disturbing to think of her coming up against the men who only saw her as a ticket to their life’s fortune. “Can you?”
“Even if I can’t, the last thing I want is help from a man like you,” she bit out, stepping back from him.
He raised a brow. “A man like me?”
“My experience with Frank taught me a valuable lesson. My so-called boyfriend that couldn’t dump me fast enough when the money dried up. You’re just like him—gorgeous, confident, arrogant—except a million times more. The women—they couldn’t get enough of you even when you barely glanced in their direction. And the men were so eager to please you, wanting to be like you.
“You...exert your power or charm, or whatever the hell it is, over everyone you meet. You wield it to bend people to your will. Someone like me, you’ll use my attraction to you to put me in my place, to prove that you’re right no matter what the truth is. To prove that I’m somehow less because I’m not everything you are. Accusations that have no basis in truth, I can handle. But you mock who I am and that I won’t forgive.”
He felt as if she’d punched him, because it was exactly what he had thought of her. “Someone like you?” He repeated her words to hide his reaction.
Pain streaked through her eyes. The depth of her emotions, the sheer transparency of them was like nothing he’d ever seen before.
“A shy, plain, boring elementary teacher who knows nothing about men.” She repeated the words as if by rote, and suddenly he knew in his bones who had said them to her. “First you’ll use it to dig into me to figure out if I’m telling the truth.
“Then you’ll use my lack of sophistication to persuade Gio that he’s right and that I need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap because I’m too naive, too foolish. That I’ll somehow bring someone like Frank into this...kingdom of yours.
“I don’t care whether you believe me or not. Just stay away from me. We don’t have to see each other for you to make sure that I’m not fleecing Gio, do we?”
Her slender shoulders straight, the line of her spine a graceful curve, she looked like a water nymph. Leaving Raphael spellbound in more than one way.
If she was a con woman, he’d see her in jail. But if she was indeed Gio’s granddaughter, she was absolutely forbidden to him.
Even if it was the most real conversation he’d had with a woman. Ever.
STAY AWAY FROM ME.
Pia’s words followed him as Raphael walked around the estate and made sure the staff put every last inebriated or otherwise high-flying guest into their vehicles. He bid the tired staff to their beds after they put the ballroom to rights.
He didn’t know if Gio thought the ball successful but Raphael thought it had been sensational.
Whoever Pia was, she’d meant those words. His accusations had hurt her, but it was the other thing she’d said that pricked him even now.
You mock who I am.
Had he mocked her because with her naive views and long sighs she’d seemed like an impossibility? Or had he mocked her because he resented that innocence, those stars in her eyes?
Because he’d never had a chance to be like that.
He
