Seduced by the Heir

“Rafael did not shoot me down.”

Cassandra belted her robe and returned to the master bedroom. “Then why are you ranting and raving about a guy you just met?”

I know him better than you think, Paris thought, ambling over to the window. Pulling back the bronze drapes, she searched the grounds of the villa for her first love. Reuniting with her old college sweetheart had stirred powerful feelings inside her, but even more shocking was the impulse she felt to jump his bones. Maybe celibacy isn’t such a good idea. I’m so horny I’m fantasizing about a guy I dumped fifteen years ago!

“Keep your chin up. You’ll meet a great guy this weekend. I just know it.”

Paris scoffed and rolled her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. “Girl, please, I have a better chance of being struck by lightning during a snowstorm!”

“Okay, okay, fine, quit pouting. I’ll get Rafael’s phone number for you.”

“I’ve known Rafael since I was a teenager,” she blurted out, staring down at her bejeweled hands. The very same hands she’d once used to stroke Rafael’s face, his chest and his... Paris deleted her last thought. To ward off the memories sneaking up on her, she pressed her eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. “He was my first love.”

“You hooked up with Rafael Morretti? No way!”

“We started dating our freshman year of college, and broke up a year later.”

Cassandra wore a cheeky grin. “That means Rafael is Mr. O!”

“Don’t call him that.”

“What?” Her smile was coy, but the expression in her eyes was one of pure mischief. “You said your first love gave you orgasm after orgasm, night after glorious night.”

“All right, all right,” Paris snapped. “Enough already. I don’t want to talk about my sexual escapades with Rafael Morretti.”

“Don’t get mad at me. They’re your words, not mine.”

Needing a distraction—something, anything, to take her mind off her old college sweetheart—Paris surveyed her surroundings. The seventeenth century villa was the perfect blend of Old World Venice and the modern, contemporary age. During the tour of the villa that afternoon, she’d learned it had a wine cellar, a personal theater and a home gym. But the room that impressed Paris the most was the study. Later, when the party died down, she was going to curl up on the couch and unwind with a romance novel.

“How was I supposed to know Stefano’s childhood friend was your old college sweetheart?” Cassandra plopped down on the antique chair at the vanity table and unzipped her Hermes makeup bag. “I’m a savvy businesswoman, Paris, not a mind reader!”

Paris laughed, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach remained. To take her mind off Rafael, she joined Cassandra at the vanity table and picked up a curling iron. “You’re right. I’m sorry for blowing up at you, but seeing Rafael again after all these years has me on edge.”

“Relax, you’re getting yourself all worked up for nothing. Rafael is too much of a gentleman to rehash the past. Besides, he’s leaving for Tuscany tomorrow, so you won’t see him again until the wedding day.”

“He balked at your ridiculous, five-page itinerary, too, huh? Smart man.”

“I just want everyone I love to spend quality time together this week.”

“I hear you, but a week-long wedding celebration is a little over the top, even for me.”

“Don’t talk to me about over the top. You rented out Spago for your thirtieth birthday, flew in friends from all across the country, and paid thousands of dollars to have Maxwell to perform,” Cassandra said, nailing her with a don’t-mess-with-me look. “Only celebrities do that, and the last time I checked your last name wasn’t Kardashian!”

The friends laughed.

“Is, ah, Rafael, staying here, too?” Paris asked, keeping her tone light, casual.

“Of course.”

“But I thought you rented the villa for the bridal party.”

Cassandra frowned. “I did. Rafael is the master of ceremonies.”

“Of what?”

“The wedding, Einstein!”

“And you’re just telling me about this now!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, eyebrows raised, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize I needed your approval before making decisions about my New Year’s Eve wedding.”

Paris ignored the dig. Things just keep getting better! Her gaze landed on the bedroom window overlooking the backyard. She recalled her conversation with Rafael, wondered why he had given her the cold shoulder. Is he still mad about the way things ended? Their exchange had been plagued with silence, and had felt like the longest minute of her life. Paris didn’t want to stay at the villa, but she had few options. If she grabbed her stuff and left, Cassandra would flip out, and Paris didn’t want to get on her girlfriend’s bad side. “Are you sure Rafael’s the right person to emcee the wedding? He’s always been on the quiet side, and he hates public speaking.”

“Don’t be crazy. Of course I’m sure. He’s incredibly charming,” Cassandra said. “Once you get to know him you’ll see what an amazing guy he is.”

Girl, please, trust me, I know him. I’ve had that man in ways you wouldn’t believe!

“Rafael only arrived a few hours ago, but the bridesmaids are already fighting over him. Even the ones with boyfriends!” she said with a laugh.

“They are? Really?”

“Yeah, Stefano’s cousin, Julietta, told the other girls to back off or else.”

Paris didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. It was insane that after all these years she was still attracted to Rafael, but she was, and she didn’t want him sowing his wild oats while they were under the same roof. “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked, twirling a lock of Cassandra’s hair around the base of the curling iron. “I don’t like surprises, and I have a feeling you’re keeping something from me.”

“You’re paranoid.” With a grin, Cassandra added, “And horny! You want Rafael so bad desire is practically oozing from your pores.”

Paris wanted to tell her friend that she was dead wrong, but couldn’t get the words out. Am I that transparent? Did Rafael sense my desire? Is that why he ignored me earlier?

“It’s obvious you still like him, or you wouldn’t be so upset about seeing him again.” Her tone was confident. “Just admit it. You have the hots for him, and you want to rekindle your romance.”

“That’s ludicrous. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Yeah, but Rafael was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first love—”

“I know, I know,” Paris said glumly. “Don’t remind me.”

“As if you haven’t relived that night a million times in your mind.” Cassandra sighed dreamily, as if her heart was bursting with love, and touched a hand to her chest. “You said your first time was the most magical moment of your life.”

“I was a teenager. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Good, so I don’t have to worry about you and Julietta fighting over him, right?”

“Don’t worry. I’d never dream of doing anything to ruin your big day.”

Cassandra grabbed her hairbrush and pointed it at the mirror. “You better not, or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”

The women laughed. As Paris continued to style Cassandra’s hair, they discussed the sightseeing excursion planned for tomorrow, and the wedding rehearsal at the world-famous Frari Church in the evening. Everything was in place for Stefano and Cassandra’s New Year’s Eve ceremony, and Paris was so excited for the couple that she was anxious for the big day to finally arrive. Just because she didn’t believe in love, or the ridiculous notion of two people living happily ever after, didn’t mean she couldn’t support her best friend. Stefano was a great man, who treated Cassandra like a queen, and Paris was glad he’d finally popped the question and relocated to London to be with her. They were a dynamic couple, and Paris was thrilled that her friend was finally going to get her happy ending.

“If things get too overwhelming this weekend just let me know.” A sad smile touched Cassandra’s lips. “I’m here for you, Paris. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Quit stressing. I’m fine, really.”

“I know, but I worry that all this wedding stuff is going to bring back painful memories.”

Paris dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed the lump in her throat. Sadness consumed her, caused her heart to pound erratically. Willing herself not to cry, she bit the inside of her cheek. Three years ago, she’d dated a man she’d hoped to build a life with despite her feelings for Rafael, and now she was alone, forced to deal with the pain of her ex-boyfriend’s bitter betrayal.

Taking a deep breath, she cleared every troubling thought from her mind. Instead of dwelling on the past, she was going to focus on all the wonderful things in her life. She had a loving family, caring and supportive friends, and a successful career. Sure, she hated her job, and thought of quitting every day, but she’d rather suffer in silence than disappoint her father. Paris wanted to make him proud, craved and desired his approval more than anything in the world, and was determined to earn his respect.

“Have you spoken to Winston’s mother recently?”

Paris nodded, but didn’t elaborate on the hour-long conversation she’d had with the retired nurse days earlier. She couldn’t talk about her ex-boyfriend’s mother without getting emotional, and just thinking about the frail, elderly woman made her heart ache. She appreciated Cassandra’s concern, but knew if she didn’t change the subject quick she’d succumb to the clutches of grief and despair. And the last thing Paris wanted was to have an emotional breakdown.

“Don’t move.” Paris picked up the pink aerosol can on the vanity table, and sprayed Cassandra’s elegant up-do with hair sheen. “Voilà, you’re all done.”

“I love it, girl, thanks!” Touching the nape of her neck, Cassandra turned from right to left, admiring her chic hairstyle. “When are you going to quit working for your old man, and finally open a high-end beauty salon?”

Paris groaned. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again. It’s time you quit working for daddy dearest, and branch out.”

“We’ve talked about this ad nauseam. I’m not cut out to run my own business.”

“Of course you are,” Cassandra argued, propping a hand on her hip. “You got your MBA from one of the finest business schools in the country, and you graduated at the top of our class.”

Paris shook her head, refusing to give any thought to what her best friend said. Leaving Excel Construction wasn’t an option. Even though she loved doing hair and makeup, and always dreamed of owning a salon, she wasn’t about to leave her cushy executive job in Atlanta. Traveling the world, making great money and partying with wealthy, influential people was important to her. And if she quit working at her dad’s company, she’d have to kiss her fabulous social life goodbye. “I opened a salon back in the day, and it was a complete failure, remember?”

“Don’t be so cynical. You’re older and wiser now. Things will be different.”

“I can’t afford to take that risk. I still owe my dad thousands of dollars. I’ll be paying him back for many more years to come.”

Cassandra stood, gripped Paris’s shoulders and stared her down. “Then do what you do best—find some big-money investors and persuade them to back your salon.”

Leaning against the vanity table, Paris gave some thought to what her friend had said. It was a good idea, but she didn’t have the time or energy to take on such an enormous endeavor. Not when she had more responsibilities than ever. Besides, no one in their family ever defied her father, and Paris wasn’t about to start.

“I’m going to go change.” Selecting one of the dresses on the bed, Cassandra sashayed back inside the walk-in closet, and shut the door. Minutes later, she returned to the bedroom wearing a designer bejeweled gown. “How do I look?”

For effect, Paris hollered like a cheerleader. Her best friend had always been a low-key, no-fuss type of girl, but there she was, in her third dress of the night. She was draped in thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds, and her blue silk gown made her look as graceful as the Duchess of Cambridge. “I love the color of your dress, and how it shows off your killer bod. Your fiancé is one very lucky man!”

Giggling, the friends linked arms and exited the bedroom.

“We better hurry,” Cassandra said, as they slowly descended the spiral staircase. “It’s time for dessert, and if we’re late there’ll be nothing left. Julietta is a little, bitty thing, but boy, can that girl eat!”

Paris followed Cassandra through the grand foyer and out the French doors. Music, laughter and the pungent scents of fresh fruit and flowers filled the night air. With a dry mouth and an erratic heartbeat, Paris stepped inside the tent, hoping Rafael was long gone. At the thought of him, blood rushed through her veins. Try as she might, she couldn’t squelch the butterflies swarming around her stomach. He had a hold on her still, after all these years. One Paris didn’t understand, and couldn’t explain. Memories sneaked up on her, scrolled through her mind in slow motion. The first time they’d kissed and the nights they’d made love were deeply cherished memories, ones she had relived hundreds of times over the years, and nothing would ever change how much she’d once loved and adored Rafael Morretti.

Once loved him? her conscience repeated. When did you stop?

To that, Paris didn’t have an answer.

Chapter 3

Rafael sat in the media room, playing chess with Stefano, but he was having a hell of a time concentrating on the game. His thoughts were on Paris. Had been from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Seeing his old college sweetheart again, after more than a decade, had his mind so twisted he couldn’t think of anything but her. Stefano had won the last three games, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d bragged about his landslide victories on Facebook and Twitter.

Realizing he didn’t have a chance in hell of beating Stefano, Rafael threw his hands up in defeat and reclined in his leather chair. Low-hanging lights, plush furniture and colorful artwork gave the room a one-of-a-kind look. The air smelled of roasted peanuts, and the mouthwatering aroma made Rafael’s stomach grumble. The wet bar was only a few feet away, but he was too tired to get up and fix himself a snack. It had been a day filled with surprises, and he still couldn’t wrap his mind around Paris St. Clair being at his best friend’s wedding celebration.

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he contemplated calling it a night and heading upstairs to his bed. Paris was staying on the second floor, only three doors down from his room. And knowing that his ex—the woman he’d once loved more than anything in the world—was only a breath away would be the ultimate torture.

Rafael heard his cell phone chime, and glanced down at the coffee table to read the number on the screen. His eyes narrowed, hardened with disgust. It was Cicely Cohen. His ex-girlfriend. The woman who’d betrayed his trust for fifteen minutes of fame. She’d been blowing up his phone for weeks, had left dozens of teary voice mail messages, but Rafael hadn’t returned her calls. Wasn’t going to, either. He had nothing to say to her, and the sooner she got the hint the better. They were over for good, and there was no way in hell he was taking her back.

“Rafael, is everything okay? You seem distracted.”

“I’m cool, man. Don’t worry about me,” he said. “How are you feeling? The big day is fast approaching, so if you’re having second thoughts, now’s a good time to skip town!”

Stefano wore a proud smile. “Proposing to Cassandra last year in Aruba was the best decision I ever made, and I can’t wait for her to become Mrs. Stefano Via.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re an incredible couple, and she definitely brings out the best in you.” Rafael wanted to say more, but stopped himself in the nick of time. He couldn’t fire off questions about Paris—not without raising suspicion—so for now he’d just have to cool his heels. “Have you guys decided where you’re going to live after you get married?”

“We’re going to stay in England for the time being. We love living in London and now that my consulting firm has taken off, I’m in no rush to return to the States.”

“Congratulations, man. It sounds like everything has finally come together.” Rafael picked up his wine cooler and took a swig.

“Where’s Nicco?” Stefano asked. “I thought he was joining us for a nightcap.”

“That’s what he said, but Jariah probably had other ideas. My brother thinks he’s running things, but make no mistake, his fiancée is the one in charge.”

Stefano chuckled, and nodded in agreement. “I know what that’s like, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. If my woman’s happy, then I’m happy. Cassandra means the world to me, and I’ll never let anything come between us.”

“You sound like an online dating ad!” Rafael joked.

“And you have no idea what you’re missing. Now that I’ve found my soul mate I—”

“Have you met Paris’s husband?” Rafael felt his cheeks burn, heard his pulse hammer in his ears, but faked a smile. It was too late to stuff the words back down his throat, and besides, he was curious to know about the man who’d captured his first love’s heart.

“Who told you Paris was married?” Stefano asked, wearing a puzzled expression.

“She’s not?”

His frown deepened, caused fine lines to wrinkle his forehead. “Nope, last time I checked she was single and ready to mingle!”

“But she’s wearing a massive diamond ring on her left hand.”

“Paris loves jewelry. Most women do.”

Surprised, and oddly relieved by the news, Rafael pressed on. “Is she dating anyone?”

“Why? Are you interested?”

“I didn’t come to Venice to make a love connection.”

“Nicco said you dated Paris in college. How come you never mentioned her?”

He shrugged. “Because we weren’t serious.”

“Why did you guys call it quits?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“I just couldn’t imagine you dating someone like Paris, that’s all, and I wonder—”

“Someone like Paris?” he repeated, interrupting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re polar opposites. She’s a high-maintenance diva and you’re Mr. Laid-back.”

Rafael thought about what his friend had said, wondering if there was any truth to it. In college, Paris had been the girl every guy wanted, and every girl wanted to be. But he couldn’t recall her ever copping an attitude with him, or behaving like a diva. Loved by everyone, and admired by all, she’d easily made friends. She had shone as the student council president, and gained the respect and admiration of the faculty and staff, as well.

Had Paris changed? Was she like all the other shallow, materialistic women he’d had the misfortune of dating in the past? Unlike his friends, Rafael didn’t flaunt his wealth, and derived great pleasure from the simple things in life. Hot summer days spent jogging through the park with his beloved dogs; spending Sunday afternoons playing golf and watching football. He’d yet to find someone who loved the great outdoors, and humanitarian work, and doubted he ever would. Most women he met were more interested in driving around town in his Bentley and dining at five-star restaurants than getting to know him as person. And since he had more than enough work to keep him busy, he had zero interest in the Washington dating scene.

“Paris loves to party, and you’re a recluse, so you’d definitely make an odd pair.”

“Recluse? That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

“No. The last time you went on a date Michael Jordan was still playing for the Bulls!”

Rafael had a zinger on his tongue, one he knew would wipe the grin clear off Stefano’s face. But before he could speak, his friend resumed his interrogation.

“Did Paris cheat on you?” he asked in a solemn tone. “Is that why you broke up?”

“No, she transferred to Spelman her junior year, and the distance proved too much....” Rafael trailed off, stopping himself from saying more. What he didn’t tell Stefano was that Paris had dumped him three days before his birthday and immediately started dating someone else. Some rich, good-looking clown on the football team. It’s in the past, water under the bridge, he told himself, downing the rest of his wine cooler. I moved on a long time ago, and never gave Paris, or her loser boyfriend, another thought.

If that’s true, his conscience said, then why are you still bitter and resentful about your breakup? Why does your heart ache every time you see her?

“I can’t believe you’re still sweet on her after all this time.”

“Stefano, knock it off. I’m not sweet on Paris. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“So? Who’s to say she’s not the one?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow. He leaned forward expectantly. “Maybe it’s true what they say. Maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder.”

Rafael laughed, rejecting his friend’s opinion with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Thanks for the advice, Dr. Love, but I’m not interested in making a connection with Paris or anyone else.”

But I wouldn’t mind a few nights of carnal pleasure, he thought as images of his ex-girlfriend bombarded his mind. Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. Six months? A year? He told himself it didn’t matter, because now that he’d reunited with his old college sweetheart his sexual drought was about to come to an abrupt end.

A grin tilted the corners of his lips. Seducing Paris was going to be more fun than playing high-stakes poker in Atlantic City. Rafael lived for the thrill of the chase, the pursuit, and he had a feeling the sexy socialite was going to make things very interesting this weekend. The only hurdle would be hooking up with Paris without everyone at the villa finding out. Rafael didn’t want word of his holiday tryst getting back to his brothers, or worse, his matchmaking mother. He’d think of something, he had to, because tomorrow, when he saw Paris at breakfast, he was setting his plan in motion.

“I’m beat. I’m turning in.” Stefano stood and swiped his iPhone off the coffee table. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and if I doze off during the tour Cassandra will kill me!”

“Is everyone heading into the city for the sightseeing excursion?”

“And by everyone, you mean Paris, right?” He wore a wry grin. “Yeah, she’s going.”

“I might tag along,” Rafael said, keeping his tone light, casual. The thought of spending the day with Paris appealed to him, but he didn’t confess the truth. If his best friend knew he was feeling something for her—even just a little—he’d blab to Cassandra, and Rafael didn’t want anyone to know he was interested in hooking up with his former flame. “My meeting has been pushed back to Monday, and I have nothing planned tomorrow.”

“That’s great. Now you’ll have time to romance Paris!”

Rafael scoffed at the suggestion. Ever since Stefano had proposed to Cassandra he seemed hell-bent on hooking him up with one of her single friends. And when he wasn’t playing matchmaker he was bragging about his lady love. Stefano couldn’t go five minutes without talking about how great she was, and listening to his buddy gush about his bride-to-be made Rafael feel lonelier than ever.

First my best friend finds love, and then my brothers, he thought, releasing a deep sigh. Coming to Venice was a bad idea. All this love and happiness is sickening.

“I’ll meet you on the tennis court at 7:00 a.m.,” Stefano said, as they exited the media room. “Don’t be late, or I’ll send Julietta to come get you.”

“You better not, or you’ll be sporting a black eye on your wedding day.”

Chuckling good-naturedly they strode down the hall and climbed the staircase.

“Good night, man.”

“Try not to snore,” Rafael teased, clapping his friend on the back. “I’m a light sleeper, and I need my rest so I can whip you in straight sets tomorrow.”

“Keep dreaming, pretty boy, it’s not going to happen!”

Seconds later, Rafael opened his bedroom door, flipped on the lights and kicked off his shoes. The first thing he noticed was Julietta—sitting on the king-size bed in a flimsy lace negligee.