The Purest of Diamonds?

She had a lucky escape from more verbal jousting when her gorgeous sister Britt chose that moment to enter the hotel on the arm of her handsome sheikh. Spotting them immediately, Britt gave Leila a what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-him? look, swiftly followed by a jerk of her beautiful blonde head in the direction of the elevators—a signal that Leila should get herself out of trouble and up to the family suite pronto, before she got herself into deeper water with the most dangerous man in town.

She returned Britt’s look with a slanting smile that said, do I have to?

Did she want to? That was the question.

Britt shrugged as if to say, on your head be it.

It was all right for Britt. Fantastic in company like Leila’s other sister, Eva, Britt would be an asset to any gathering, while Leila would only get in the way if she went up to the suite Britt had taken for her pre-party gathering.

‘Put your ticket away safely, Leila.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Your cloakroom ticket,’ Raffa prompted, handing it over. ‘Now get yourself into the restroom to sort out your dress. And, okay—’ His gaze descended and lingered for quite some time. ‘Your stockings are shot.’

‘My tights,’ she corrected him primly.

‘Please don’t disillusion me.’

That smile!

Her equilibrium having been taken and turned upside down, it was definitely time to take a short break from the hottest man around. ‘Don’t bother waiting up for me,’ she called over her shoulder with a grin as she headed at speed for the restroom.

She’d given him an out. Hopefully, he’d take the hint. Leaning over the washbasin, she took a much-needed moment to catch her breath. Forget the dress. Forget the mud. Her mind was full of the man outside that door. Would he wait for her? Almost certainly not, thank goodness. No one had ever had this sort of effect on her before. Which had to mean she was certifiably crazy. Raffa Leon had a reputation that made Casanova look like a choirboy. He was single because he played the field. And she had no intention of applying to become a member of his team.

Pulling back from the basin, she tore off a strip of paper towel and, wetting it, cleaned the mud off her dress. The dress was soon okay-ish, but, as Raffa had clearly identified, her tights were ruined. Stripping them off, she dumped them in the bin.

Bare legs?

She pulled a face. Chalk legs weren’t exactly the look she’d been aiming for, but who would notice?

Raffa.

Raffa noticed everything.

But he probably wouldn’t even speak to her again that night. And if he did, wasn’t this year supposed to be about chilling out and freeing herself to do some of the things she had longed to do—like travelling, like meeting new people, for instance? And if he was waiting outside the door for her, why shouldn’t she allow him to escort her to the party? Britt and Eva wouldn’t miss her up in their suite. They would be heavily into hosting cocktails and canapés by now. And Raffa was surely more entertaining than the mayor of Skavanga, whose unofficial job it was to make a wallflower feel valued. Or the elderly vicar, who could always be relied upon to give Leila a pep talk on finding a husband before it was too late.

Too late at twenty-two?

And who needed a husband, anyway? All she wanted was a child—children, preferably. She was perennially broody. And, in the unlikely event that Raffa was desperate enough to be outside that door, she would be well chaperoned at the party. Britt and Eva would be there with their partners, along with a hundred or so guests. And it wasn’t every day she got to swap small talk with a billionaire.

So... Would he be there? Or would Raffa Leon have breathed a sigh of relief the moment she closed the restroom door and made his escape? Before her courage deserted her completely, she opened the door to find out.

‘Leila.’

‘Raffa...’

So far, so disastrous. One glance into those laughing dark eyes and she could hardly breathe. Raffa looked amazing—even more than amazing. In a dark, formal suit that moulded his powerful body to perfection, he was taller than most of the other men present, and exuded energy like a fighter jet amongst a fleet of biplanes.

‘I apologise for keeping you waiting so long.’

‘It was worth the wait, Leila. You look sensational.’

What? She stopped just short of rolling her eyes. Then, remembering this was another example of his practised charm, she filed his compliment away under Trivia.

‘Well, at least I’m mud free,’ she agreed, glancing down at her clothes. Unfortunately, under the lights they still looked a bit ropey. ‘I had to take my tights off—’

Uh? What kind of message did that send?

There was laughter in Raffa’s eyes, but now she couldn’t stop herself and nerves were starting to make her babble. ‘Bare legs... Well... White legs, actually—’

Good of you to point it out, she could imagine him thinking.

Great legs, he thought. And the rest was very nicely packaged too. Leila was wearing the same dress she’d worn at Britt’s wedding when she had been playing with the children. He remembered it now.

‘Britt’s dress,’ Leila said, seeing him look at it. ‘I wore it at my sister’s wedding.’

‘I remember.’ And Leila would win any Who-looks-best-in-this-dress? contest hands down.

‘It’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen,’ she rattled on as if she had to excuse the fact that she was wearing something that suited her so well. ‘I begged Britt not to go to the expense of buying some silly bridesmaid’s dress I’d never wear again—and, look! Here I am, wearing it again! That’s what I call getting your money’s worth...’

As Leila’s hectic explanation petered out, he hummed, wondering why she didn’t have any pretty dresses of her own to wear.

And why should he care?

‘It’s a bit too tight,’ she said, getting her second wind. ‘Britt’s so slim—’

The tighter the better, as far as he was concerned. He’d never gone for the half-starved look. The dress would always look better on Leila because she was voluptuous.

‘I don’t go to many parties. Don’t feel sorry for me,’ she insisted before he had chance to say a word. ‘I usually hang out somewhere quieter than this—’

‘My preference too,’ he said, shielding Leila with his arm as more guests piled into the lobby. Quiet rooms and hot women would be his preference every time. ‘Here’s an idea—’ He had stopped in front of the elevator. ‘There’s a quiet lounge just down this corridor. Why don’t we take five? It would give you chance to recover your composure.’ And calm down a bit, he thought.

‘You mean, I look a mess?’

She looked adorable and so trusting as she turned her face up to his. Well, she was safe tonight. He had already reined in his thoughts from champagne and seduction to soft drinks and a few very necessary moments of calm for Leila. She needed to relax before facing the bright lights of the party, and, surprising even himself, he wanted to get to know her a little better. ‘Come on—let’s get out of this crush. The party isn’t due to start for another half hour,’ he reassured her when she looked doubtful. ‘We won’t be missed.’

‘But my sisters are expecting me.’

‘Your sisters will be so busy doing what they do well, they won’t miss either of us.’

Opening the door on the tempting setting of a quiet lounge, he stood back. They wouldn’t be alone. There were quite a few residents who weren’t going to the party sitting around reading newspapers and chatting quietly, and there was a big, welcoming log fire burning lustily in the grate. There were still plenty of cosy armchairs where they could sit and chat without being overheard. It was the perfect spot for a girl who wasn’t sure of herself yet, or of her companion.

‘This is lovely,’ Leila said with relief, gazing round.

‘Orange juice?’ he suggested.

‘With a splash of lemonade, please. How did you know?’

He loved the way Leila’s smile lit up her face. ‘Lucky guess.’ Not such a stretch. It was going to be a long night, and, though Leila was reputedly the shyest of the Skavanga sisters, there was a hint of steel about her that suggested she would face the party clear-headed or not at all.

Leila intrigued him, if only because she was so different from her sisters. The middle sister, Eva, whose eve-of-wedding party this was, could be a headstrong handful, while Britt was a hard-nosed businesswoman who only softened for her sheikh. Leila’s sisters and her brother, Tyr, had clearly protected her when their parents died, as Leila had been so very young when the tragic plane crash happened, but the intuition that had never let him down so far said there was more to Leila Skavanga than simply a sheltered girl who worked in the archive department of the Skavanga mining museum, and he was keen to find out what that was.

CHAPTER TWO

WHAT EXACTLY WAS she doing with Raffa Leon? What could they possibly have to talk about?

Anybody?

She had never done anything so out of character in her life. Yes, Raffa was charming, but he was practically a stranger—and a dangerous one at that, according to her sisters and the rather more scandalous tone of the press. Leila had always been glad she worked in a separate building from the mining company, if only because it put some space between herself and these high-powered, fast-living types.

But didn’t this unexpected encounter with a leading player in the consortium dovetail nicely with her determination to make this her breakout year?

Roar mouse?

Great idea, if she had the courage to summon up something more than a squeak. And what was Raffa up to? Why choose to spend time with her?

‘Shall we sit here?’ he suggested, indicating two comfortable armchairs facing each other across a sleek glass table.

‘Thank you.’

Even this close to such a powerhouse of testosterone made her feel incredibly aware and wary. His deep, velvety voice with that intriguing accent played in her head, and she had to remind herself that sweeping a woman away with whatever means he chose to employ was Raffa Leon’s stock in trade. Though he was hardly out to seduce her with so many other attractive women at the party.

Out of the archive department into the fire, she concluded with amusement as Raffa turned to give their order to the waiter. He looked so relaxed, while she was more like a schoolgirl on parade, sitting stiff and upright in her chair, waiting for the pronouncements of the headmaster.

Raffa knocked that idea on its head the moment he turned back to her. No headmaster on earth looked like this—such compelling dark eyes with that touch of humour, and a wickedly curving mouth.

‘I’m looking forward to a refreshing drink, without having it knocked out of our hands,’ he said, turning up the voltage on his smile.

It took her a moment to speak, she was so captivated, and then she experienced a moment of panic. What could she possibly say to him? How did you launch into a conversation with a notorious billionaire? How’s your yacht? Would that do?

‘What are you smiling at, Leila?’ he enquired, raising one sweeping ebony brow in a way that made her heart stop.

‘Am I smiling?’ She stopped smiling immediately. ‘I was just thinking, this is a great place, isn’t it? Such a good idea of yours.’ She made a point of staring round. Anything was safer than looking at Raffa.

‘It’s good to see you relax,’ he said, his eyes dark like the night and just as full of danger.

Relaxed? Was that what he thought? She doubted any woman could relax around Raffa Leon. He had this way of staring directly into your eyes that made it hard to look away. Impossible to look away, she amended.

So come out of your shell. Live boldly for once.

‘Here’s your juice,’ he said. ‘With a splash of lemonade as requested.’

As he handed it to her he was doing that eye thing—the curving smile, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. It was all too easy to fool herself into thinking he was interested in her, when this was just his way. Raffa Leon was a charming and accomplished seducer, both in business and with women, and she had to get it into her head that this was just an innocent encounter and a refreshing drink. She had never been the type of girl men took up to their room. She was the kid sister they brought into the very public hotel lounge to share an orange juice with before the party.

And she should be pleased about that.

She was pleased. But she would be lying if she tried to pretend it wouldn’t be thrilling to have Raffa look at her with something other than humour in his eyes.

When she leaned forward to pick up her glass, her senses filled with the faint scent of his cologne. It was one of those intoxicating scents, hard to identify, but undoubtedly exclusive. She sat back again, wondering. What now? Raffa seemed content to let the silence hang between them, so maybe it was up to her to break the silence. Live boldly, for once! Pointing through one of the tall arched windows, she drew his attention to the park, picked out in lights at this time of night. ‘My mother used to take me over there to the park when I was a little girl so I could terrorise people on my three-wheeler.’

‘I never saw you as a hoodlum, Leila.’

So how did he see her? Raffa laughed as he set down his drink. A soft drink too, she noted.

Raffa felt his heart stir as he thought about a little girl taking every day with her mother for granted, and a young mother enjoying special time with her youngest child. Those days must have felt as if they would go on for ever. Neither of them could have anticipated Leila’s father’s descent into drunken violence, or the tragic plane crash and loss of life.

‘What are you thinking about now?’ he prompted, though he guessed Leila had inadvertently uncovered memories she didn’t normally share with strangers, and was probably regretting being so open with him. Insanely, he wanted to hug her and tell her it would be all right, but they didn’t know each other well enough for that. They had a party to go to, where Leila would have to be bright and cheerful, or her sisters would want to know why. He didn’t want to leave her shakier than when she’d fallen into his arms outside the hotel. What had begun as basic attraction and curiosity had gained an edge of care. Not that he felt responsible for Leila, and she wouldn’t want that. She’d been doing pretty well on her own up to now.

‘More juice?’

‘Please. Sorry, Raffa, I was miles away.’

Thinking about her mother’s letter, Leila realised as Raffa turned away to order more drinks. She’d been doing a lot of that recently, and she’d had plenty of time to memorise every word over the years.

My darling Leila,

I love you more than life itself, and want you to promise me that you will live your life to the full. You’re only a little girl now, but one day you’ll be a woman with choices to make and I want you to make the right choices.

Don’t be afraid of life, Leila, as I have been. Be bold in all you do—

It still haunted her to think her mother must have known she was in danger—maybe even that Leila’s father would go too far and kill them both. Leila had been too young to understand what had happened at the time of the crash, and it was only later when she was older that her sisters had explained that their father was most likely drunk at the controls of the plane. She’d done some investigating of her own at the local newspaper office and had got the picture of a violent alcoholic and a woman who had been the helpless victim of his rages.

‘Ice in your juice?’ Raffa broke into her thoughts.

‘No. It’s delicious 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 stop me once I get talking about the museum.’

‘On the contrary, I don’t want to stop you,’ he insisted, ‘though it is a revelation to discover you’re not the quiet sister after all.’

‘I’m not quiet at all,’ she assured him.

No. Leila just needed the chance to be heard, he thought.

‘What are you doing?’ she said when he took the glass from her hand.

‘I think we should go to the party. Have you seen the time?’

‘No. Goodness me!’ she exclaimed, springing up. ‘I have been boring you!’

‘Not at all,’ he insisted. ‘Far from it. This evening has turned out far better than I anticipated, and we haven’t even reached the party yet.’

We?

She laughed as Raffa smiled back at her. Even if he was just being polite, she was having a great time. Raffa Leon was so much more than she had expected in every way. It was hard not to be attracted to him—impossible. Which was in itself crazy. Who invited trouble, unless they were completely mad?

She did, apparently.

‘So, are you completely recovered after your tumble?’ he said as he escorted her across the crowded lobby.

‘Completely,’ she confirmed. ‘And thank you for the drink. I feel ready for anything now.’

When Raffa laughed at this, she realised he must think her quaint and old-fashioned; sheltered, certainly.

‘If I were as honest as you, Leila, I would never have succeeded in business,’ he confided to her obvious alarm. ‘Meaning everything shows on your face,’ he was quick to explain when she frowned. ‘I’m not quite the big bad wolf I’m reported to be.’

‘But close.’ She laughed.

He laughed too. It was good to see Leila relaxed. And he wanted her to know he did have principles. He didn’t want her fretting about some rogue buying into her family business. Leila had certainly brought out the best in him. And that was a first.