A Touch of Notoriety. Carole Mortimer

don’t arrive at work in a chauffeur-driven limousine!’

      He gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. ‘That is their loss, of course, but—’

      ‘Raphael, would you try, just for a moment, to put yourself back in the world of us lesser mortals,’ she cut in disgustedly, ‘instead of this ivory tower Cesar has inhabited for so long and which my sister is trying to drag him from kicking and screaming—and which you appear to have inhabited right alongside him—and realise that in the real world we don’t travel in private jets and limousines, but buses and the underground, with maybe the occasional taxi if we’re feeling flush.’

      He gave a slow considering nod. ‘Yes, in those circumstances I can see how this mode of travel might prove a little embarrassing. Understanding your point of view does not mean that I agree with it,’ he added wryly as Beth began to smile triumphantly, instantly causing that smile to fade until it was replaced by a frown. ‘Cesar gave specific instructions as to your security—’

      ‘And if he told you to go and throw yourself off a bridge would you do that, too?’ Beth came back with false sweetness.

      Raphael gave a derisive smile. ‘Not unless it involved saving you from drowning, no.’

      ‘Then surely there’s a little room for manoeuvre on this, too?’

      His jaw tightened. ‘Manoeuvre, yes, stupidity, no. And it would be the height of stupidity,’ he continued firmly as Beth would have spoken, ‘for me to allow you to travel about London, or anywhere else, on public transport.’

      ‘You know—’ she grimaced ‘—the sooner you accept that you don’t have the right to “allow” me to do anything, then the sooner we’re going to be able to come to some sort of arrangement that suits the both of us.’

      Raphael gave a confident smile. ‘Our present arrangement already suits me perfectly.’

      Beth had never felt quite so much as if the unstoppable force had met the immovable object. Or felt so frustrated in regard to her own free will. ‘Are you always this stubborn?’

      ‘Is there not a saying “it takes one to know one”?’

      She nodded. ‘Which doesn’t exactly answer my original question, now, does it?’

      Raphael appeared to give that question several moments’ thought. ‘When it comes to security matters, yes, I am always this stubborn,’ he finally answered dismissively.

      Beth was well aware of her own stubbornness, which didn’t mean, as the unstoppable force, that she didn’t know when to admit she had been defeated by that immovable object, which in this case happened to be Raphael. ‘Fine, I’ll go to the estate in Hampshire for a couple of days.’ She sighed wearily. ‘But I’ll need to go back to my house to pick up my work clothes first. After which I will allow myself to be driven to work tomorrow in this limousine. But, whatever ideas you might have to the contrary, I absolutely draw the line on you coming into my workplace with me. Deal?’ She looked at him challengingly.

      ‘I am not Cesar—’

      ‘Oh, believe me, I’m well aware of that! Deal?’ she prompted again determinedly.

      Raphael eyed her steadily for several seconds before nodding tersely. ‘Deal.’ He turned away to give the driver Beth’s home address.

      Even so, it felt like a hollow victory to Beth, and one that left her wondering if she had really won anything, or if Raphael hadn’t already made contingency plans if she were to make such a request…

      ‘Grace tells me there’s a gym in the east wing of the house?’

      Raphael now turned from talking softly to Rodney, the head of Cesar’s security in England, having made the introductions when they arrived at the estate in Hampshire a few minutes ago after finding the other man waiting for them in the entrance hall of Cesar’s manor house.

      Beth had been very quiet since they had driven away from her home earlier, after she had gone upstairs to collect the clothes she had said she needed and left Raphael to talk to the men busy working inside and outside the house. Unusually so, for her.

      As he studied her now beneath the light given off by the overhead chandelier Raphael could see that her face was also pale, and her eyes appeared like dark bruises in that pallor. ‘Above the guest bedrooms to the right at the top of the staircase, yes…’ he confirmed softly.

      ‘Does it have a punch bag in it?’

      He raised dark brows. ‘With my face painted on it?’

      ‘Preferably, yes. Or Cesar’s would do,’ she accepted dryly.

      Raphael had no idea why it was that this woman made him want to laugh half of the time and strangle her the other half. On this occasion laughter won out, and he chuckled wryly as he turned to dismiss Rodney before answering Beth. ‘Not that I am aware of, no, but perhaps a photograph of one of us pinned onto it would do for now?’

      ‘I’m sure it would,’ she accepted with a frown.

      Raphael frowned as he saw that Beth’s eyes, despite her attempts at humour, seemed to be overbright, and not with anger but with tears. ‘Are you about to cry?’

      Beth almost laughed at the horror she detected in Raphael’s tone; like all big strong men, he probably had no idea how to deal with a woman’s tears. She almost laughed. Except, she really didn’t have anything to laugh about. Cry, yes. Laugh, no. She had believed her situation unbearable while in Argentina, but now they were back in England this nightmare she appeared to be stuck in just kept getting worse.

      ‘Did you even notice the mess those men are making of my home?’ She gave a pained wince just at the memory of the army of workmen both inside and outside what had once been her family home, but was now being turned into as much of a secure fortress as this manor house set within its equally secure walls and high gates.

      Raphael looked regretful. ‘If you had waited a couple of days before going there, as I suggested, it would all have been put back as it was.’

      She gave a shake of her head. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’

      ‘Beth—’

      ‘Raphael.’ She stared up at him steadily.

      His mouth thinned. ‘I promise you, Beth, your home will be just as you left it by the time we return later in the week.’

      ‘Apart from the fact I can no longer get in my own front door without a security code. Or open the windows without the alarm going off. Or—’

      ‘You are starting to sound like Grace now!’

      ‘Possibly because I now feel exactly the same way that Grace does about Cesar’s high level of security!’ She was breathing hard in her agitation. ‘You should be careful, Raphael. If Grace has her way Cesar won’t be using that level of security in future, and then you could be out of a job!’

      ‘If so I will simply find another.’ He shrugged. ‘And I meant that your home will be just as it was in appearance once the work there has been finished. The men working there are experts at what they do.’

      ‘I’m sure they are,’ she acknowledged flatly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I really think I need to go upstairs and find the gym—before I decide not to wait and just punch you on the jaw right now for want of a better target!’

      He raised dark brows. ‘I thought I was the target?’

      She breathed in deeply. ‘No, at the moment that’s Cesar.’ She breathed out just as deeply. ‘And I need to work off some of this excess energy before I really do hit something. Or someone!’ she added grimly.

      ‘It is almost time for dinner…’

      ‘So it is.’ She smiled slightly. ‘And it’s just dawned on me that Cesar’s cook is currently in Argentina with him making arrangements for their wedding next