CHAPTER SIX

‘RELAX,ROMAN, you don't have to stay completely still, I can work around movement,' Milly said, busy fleshing out the line drawing, adding shading and emphasis to the sketch. A smile curved her lips as her subject frowned at her.

The man was as stiff as a board, and not in the usual way. She had never expected him to be self-conscious about posing for her when he didn't seem to be self-conscious about anything else. But when she'd suggested they do the life drawing this morning, after a particularly energetic bout of lovemaking, he'd found about a million and one reasons why that was a really bad idea. After over three hours of prevarication—during a morning hike, then brunch, then more lovemaking, then a snorkel safari in the private cove below the villa, she had finally had to put her foot down and remind him of the promise he had made to her a week ago.

Gosh, is it already a whole week? Since we made our Devil's Bargain?

She paused for a second, to let the ripple of disappointment at how fast their time together was slipping away wash over her, then started sketching again with renewed vigour.

The last week had been so much fun. That was all. She was not getting emotionally invested in her spectacular fling with Roman Garner, she was just appreciating how much she had enjoyed it so far. And how much she intended to enjoy the time they had left.

The last seven days had flown past in a haze of incredible sex, delicious meals—provided by Giuliana, who was a fabulous cook—and all the other vigorous activities Roman enjoyed so much. The man was a natural athlete with energy to spare. But in between the sex, and the swimming and hiking and sailing, Milly had also managed to fit in some invigorating bursts of creativity putting together a portfolio she was already excited about—while Roman slept, something he also did with a kind of all-or-nothing determination.

The island and Roman as subjects for her work had become intertwined in her imagination, both rugged and restless with their own powerful purpose, providing her with a wealth of inspiration.

This was the first time she had managed to get him to pose for her properly. She'd loved the drawings she had done of him already, which she had worked on during the rare occasions when he was still—either while he was sleeping or eating. But she wanted something more detailed this time. As she had promised him originally, this particular composition wouldn't be for public consumption, because he would be identifiable—and gloriously naked—but she wanted to get the details of who he was on paper, to remember these two seminal weeks of her life, with her first lover, when they parted ways.

She swallowed down the new ripple of regret, ruthlessly.

‘When I agreed to do this, I thought it would be a lot sexier,' he murmured grumpily, from the bed, adjusting for about the two thousandth time in the last fifteen minutes the sheet Milly had draped over his lap.

A chuckle popped out as Milly focussed on the sketch, already realising the amount of time she was going to be able to get him to sit for her would be limited.

‘Why do you find it so hard to sit still? Do you know?' she asked, deciding that maybe if she could distract him, and get him talking about himself, she could help take his mind off his discomfort. Also, she was curious about him—and his refusal to talk about anything remotely personal.

‘Does anyone find it easy?' he asked, with the deflection she had become used to.

‘I suppose not,' she said, concentrating on the line of his torso, and adding shading to the defined musculature of his chest.

She'd done life drawings before during the evening classes she'd taken while working as a teaching assistant—before Brandon Cade had come into her and Lacey's and Ruby's lives and blown their normal everyday activities to smithereens. But the models had always been professional. She supposed it made sense this wasn't easy for Roman—because he was such an active man—but it was his self-consciousness that really surprised her.

‘Although, you usually enjoy being naked,' she added. They had been skinny dipping only yesterday, in La Baia Azzurra, away from the prying eyes of the staff, and Roman was the one who had suggested it.

‘It's a lot more fun being naked when you are too,' he offered. ‘Perhaps that would work,' he added, his voice taking on the husky tone that could mean only one thing. ‘Why don't you strip off while you sketch? That would totally help me to relax.'

She laughed, still sketching. ‘I don't think so! Mr One-Track Mind. If I got naked we would definitely get sidetracked and this would never be finished.'

‘And that would be bad because...?' he murmured.

She added detailing to the hair on his pecs, then concentrated on the design of the tattoo over his heart.

‘Why did you originally call your company after a pirate,' she asked, changing the subject before she got pulled under again—into that bottomless pool of desire that they hadn't come close to tapping, even after seven days of virtually non-stop sex.

She swallowed, attempting to ignore the liquid pull in her abdomen as she worked on drawing his torso. Not easy.

‘Why do you want to know?' he countered.

She stopped sketching. ‘That's not an answer.' It wasn't the first time she'd asked him about his tattoos. And the pirate theme. It also wasn't the first time he'd avoided giving her a straight answer... Or any answer at all really.

He shrugged. ‘Pirates are thieves but they're also romantic, mythical figures. At the time I had convinced myself I was stealing my legacy back, so it fitted.'

‘Who were you stealing your legacy back from?' she asked, intrigued by the hint of bitterness in his tone. Was she finally getting a glimpse of the man behind the devil-may-care charm?

Roman went out of his way to seem reckless and unserious about everything. But she knew beneath that casual, careless, carefree persona was a man of strong passions—because that was the way he made love. Even when sex between them started out flirty and fun, it never stayed that way. He seemed to want to make her desperate for release, by tempting and torturing her until she begged. And when he finally found his own release, his focus was so intense she often felt burned by the passion they shared.

‘It's just a figure of speech,' he said, evasively.

He was a difficult man to read, but when his gaze dropped away from hers, she knew he was lying. And she wondered why. Who had stolen his legacy? Was that where his phenomenal drive and ambition had come from? A sense of injustice? Because he had become remarkably wealthy and successful for a man only in his early thirties.

‘But you didn't come from wealth, did you?' she probed, sure she'd heard something about him being self-made. ‘Not like Brandon?'

She knew her brother-in-law had inherited the Cade empire while still in his teens, from his father, who had been an autocratic and unloving man, according to what Lacey had confided in her. In the years since his father had died, Brandon had modernised and expanded the Cade businesses—turning Cade Inc into a global media brand. But from the things Giuliana had told Milly about her boss, while the two of them chatted over breakfast each morning because Roman rarely woke before noon, Roman was almost as wealthy. And Garner Media had a similar reach. Which, now she thought about it, really was an incredible feat. To have built so much, so quickly, from what sounded like very little.

Roman straightened, the quirk on his lips flattening out. ‘What has your brother-in-law got to do with anything?'

She blinked, taken aback by the edge in his voice. He'd mentioned in passing he and Brandon knew of each other because they had some rival business interests, but what she saw in his expression seemed remarkably personal.

‘Just that you're a similar age,' she explained slowly. ‘And run similar companies, but I know Brandon inherited his from his dad. And I'm assuming you didn't inherit anything, from what you just said about legacies. That's all.'

The silence seemed to stretch out between them as he studied her. What was he looking for, with that suspicious frown on his face? And how had a fairly innocuous conversation suddenly become so tense?

She hadn't asked him about his business before now, partly because she knew nothing about it, but also because she had discovered from Giuliana he was on the island to relax and get away from the stress of being, by all accounts, a workaholic. She and Roman had made a pact, to share their downtime here, so he could enjoy his break and she could focus on building a portfolio. All the extra-curricular sex had been hard not to binge on, because it made her feel so good, and so liberated. As if she'd discovered a side of herself she had never known existed—the insatiable sex goddess side, which she had spent so long denying.

What he'd given her with this break already felt like an enormous gift. But she was trying hard not to get it out of proportion. To give it more emphasis than it deserved. Or become too invested in this holiday from her real life.

But as he stared at her, his expression tightening as he continued to look for something she didn't understand, it felt as if she had stepped over a crucial line by mentioning Brandon, of all people.

‘You said you and Brandon have similar business interests,' she continued, because he still hadn't said anything. ‘There's not more to it than that, is there?'

He let out a rough laugh, but the sound was forced. And his gaze was still probing. He shifted, and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet pooling in his lap.

‘Are you finished with the sketch?' he asked, not answering her question. Again.

Her fingers jerked on the charcoal. She stared down at the work she'd done. The line drawing was finished—ready for her to figure out what she wanted to do with it next. But she took a moment to gather herself and wait for her heartbeat to slow down. The sudden fear she might have ruined everything gripped her, and she found herself searching for a way to step back over that line. To return them both to where they had been before she'd somehow wandered into no-man's-land.

When she looked back at him again, he was still watching her. But the spark of arousal had darkened his gaze. The visceral tug of longing—which never seemed to be far away—bloomed in her abdomen.

‘Yes, I guess so,' she managed.

‘Good.' He beckoned her with one finger, the seductive intent in his eyes turning the deep green to a sparkling emerald. ‘Time for you to get naked, too, then.'

The request was edged with demand. She could have refused him. But she found she didn't want to. Sex was simple, and distracting. And it didn't require an emotional commitment from either one of them.

But as she placed her sketchbook on the dresser, then stripped in front of him and watched his gaze darken, the lust eddying through her didn't feel quite so fun and flighty and simple any more. It felt edgy and deep and compelling, and more than a little out of control.

Once she discarded the last of her clothing, he rose from the bed, throwing off the sheet to reveal the thick erection. Her throat went dry, her bones liquid, the heat at her core all but unbearable.

Placing his hands on her hips, he kissed her, his mouth ravaging hers, his need suddenly so intense she felt branded. Where was this coming from? And why couldn't she seem to stop herself from thrusting her fingers into his hair and dragging him closer still to take more?

As they finally came up for air, her breath squeezed in her lungs, the furious hunger on his face echoing in her soul.

He turned her away from him. Then pressed a hand to her back, to bend her over the dresser. ‘Why can't I stop wanting you, Milly?' he murmured, his voice thick with lust, the question one she couldn't answer, because she felt it too. This incessant desire, which seemed to have imprisoned them both.

She quivered, placing her palms on the dresser, then bucked against his touch as he dragged a finger through her folds, testing her, spreading her.

‘Tell me you want me,' he said. Or rather demanded.

‘You know I do,' she replied.

He entered her with one powerful thrust, impaling her to the hilt and caressing the spot deep inside only he had ever found.

She sobbed, the pleasure immense, the emotion she didn't want to acknowledge all but choking her as he began to move, in a fast, furious rhythm that he knew would force her swiftly to peak.

She shattered, but the pleasure built again instantly as he continued to plunge into her, the brutal waves thrusting her back into the storm. He gripped her hips, his grunts of fulfilment joining her cries as the tempest battered them both. But when she peaked again, and crashed over, she didn't just feel different any more, she felt fundamentally changed, in a way she wasn't sure she would ever be able to un-change.

And he was the cause.

She had glimpsed the ruthlessly guarded man who lurked behind Roman Garner's billionaire playboy exterior and she felt connected to him. Connected enough to want to know more about that man. To be fascinated by his secrets. Even though she already suspected he would never reveal them to anyone, including her.

‘Hey, can I see the sketch?' Roman asked, dragging the sweaty hair back from Milly's brow as they lay sprawled on the bed.

She glanced up at him, and sent him an easy smile, but he could see the wariness in her eyes. And felt the tension he'd caused snapping in the air.

He'd messed up, nearly blurting out the truth about him and Brandon Cade, after she'd asked an innocent question. Why had he told her so much? He needed to be careful now, or this fling would get more complicated... And it already felt complicated enough. Because in the last week, things hadn't gone according to plan. This was never meant to be more than a casual hook-up, diverting and fun for them both...

But he had started to enjoy her company, too much. And not just in bed.

Showing Milly Devlin her passion and then exploiting it had been intoxicating. But more than that, her smile, her laugh, her challenging provocative nature and her passion for her work had begun to captivate him, too... So much so, he'd almost told her something virtually no one else knew. Only his mother and his father, and they were both long dead. And Brandon Cade.

Eventually, she'd find out his business rivalry with her brother-in-law was acrimonious, and he was okay with that. But where the hell had that irrational reaction come from when she'd mentioned his half-brother's name? The man was married to her sister, and this was the first time in nearly a week Cade's name had even been mentioned. But even so, the fierce sense of something that had felt a lot like jealousy had made him want to brand her as his. In the only way he knew how.

And as a result, he'd let her see a part of himself—a desperate, wild, possessive part of himself—he'd never shown to any other woman. Never even felt for any other woman, which could not be good.

‘Yes, of course, you can see the sketch,' she said. But as she lifted herself off him, to get the pad she'd left on the other side of the room, uneasiness engulfed him and he grasped her wrist.

‘Hey, I'm sorry,' he said, watching her like a hawk. He hadn't intended for things to get heavy, had promised her from the outset that neither one of them would get over-invested. So why did it feel as if he'd slipped into something deeper than he had intended with her? That this wasn't just about sex any more?

‘What for?' she asked, with a puzzled frown.

Her artlessness had captivated him right from the start, because it was juxtaposed with that feisty independence... But now it just made the uneasiness settle like a lead weight in his gut. However smart and provocative she was, however ready to stand her ground, however unfazed by his demands, she was vulnerable, and innocent. Because he was the first man who had ever discovered her passion—and exploited it.

But where had the desire come from to be the only man ever to exploit it...?

He cut off the thought before it could take root. And forced himself to say what needed to be said. ‘I was kind of rough.'

Her smile became quizzical.

‘Were you?' she said. She settled back onto the bed, and folded her arms across his chest, then sent him a saucy grin. ‘Well, it was super-hot, so no apology required.'

He let out a strained laugh, trying to see the funny side of it, too. But he couldn't, quite. Hell, she had no idea who he really was.

Not only did she not know how much he despised her sister's husband—a man who, for some unknown reason, she appeared to admire—she also didn't know how easy it had been for him to consider using her when he'd first found out about her connection to Brandon Cade.

He had jettisoned that plan before they'd slept together, but why then did the thought of having to let her go in a week—and return to his business—feel so hard? He'd enjoyed her company, sure, and the incredible chemistry they shared, and her livewire response to all his caresses. He had even loved watching her draw, because of the enthusiasm she threw into her work and the little frown of concentration on her forehead, which was so damn sexy. He'd hated posing for her—especially once he'd got it into his head, as she studied him so intently, she might be able to see more than he wanted her to see—but he'd even been conflicted about that. Because having her focus on him had also made him feel weirdly vindicated.

It was all so confusing. Especially as now he didn't even have the excuse of being burnt out—because over the past week he'd slept more deeply than he had in years, because she was curled up beside him, so trusting, so content, fitting so perfectly into his arms.

He'd definitely got his mojo back. But he wasn't looking forward to leaving the island, because it would mean leaving her.

He tried to shake off the melancholy thought, which had started to bother him more and more as the days had gone by. He'd always been a loner, so it made no sense. Especially as he'd gone out of his way not to deepen this relationship, not to let her see more of him.

Until that moment, twenty minutes ago, when she'd looked at him with that captivating combination of innocence and curiosity in her eyes, and questioned him about Cade...

He patted her bottom, desperately trying to make things light, and shallow, again. And get back to the sexy sparring of before, despite the weight pushing on his chest.

‘Okay, go get the sketch, then,' he said.

She bounced off the bed, gloriously unselfconscious as she retrieved the sketch. She handed him the pad. And snuggled back against his side.

But his fingers tensed as he got his first glimpse of her work. He stared, the weight dropping into his stomach like a stone.

How had she captured him so perfectly? He could see the tension in his muscles, the struggle to remain aloof and indifferent in the stiff lines of his body. But what stunned him even more was how she had captured the wariness in his eyes. Because in that expression, he didn't see the man he had worked so hard to become. The confident, arrogant, cynical playboy... Instead, he saw the guarded, needy, resentful boy he'd left behind long ago. The little bastard who had changed his name and worked his backside off for years, taking insane risks to make his mark—and best the half-brother who had made it clear, the one time he'd met him, he didn't even care he existed.

The blip in his heart rate soared.

‘What do you think?' she asked softly.

She was watching him intently, but the caution in her eyes told him his opinion mattered, and, strangely, he couldn't find the strength to lie.

‘It's good, but it's not what I expected,' he murmured.

‘How so?' she asked, the compassionate expression disturbing him even more.

How could she see that kid? When he'd kept him hidden so successfully, for so long?

He flipped the cover over the sketchbook, dropped it on the bed. ‘It's just... It's weird, it's like you can see who I was, not who I am now. I'm not sure I like it. Because that kid is long gone.' He'd made sure of it. ‘And good riddance.'

What was he so afraid of? Even if she had seen who he was, she couldn't make him go back there, couldn't resurrect that angry boy.

He rolled over, trapping her beneath him, letting her feel the hard length. Wanting her to know this could never be about anything other than sex. Because she wouldn't want that boy, no one had.

But her curious, compassionate smile didn't falter.

‘Who were you?' she asked. ‘And why do you dislike that boy so much?'

He could have deflected the question, could have simply refused to answer it. After all, he'd never had a problem avoiding questions he didn't want to answer before. But something she'd said about her own childhood had niggled at him all week. And he couldn't shake the strange conviction she would understand that boy. And forgive him, in a way Roman had never been able to.

‘Because that kid was a nobody, and a born loser,' he said, flatly.

‘Oh, Roman.' She cupped his cheek, traced the line of his lips. He bit into her thumb, suddenly needing the sexual heat to ease the tension in his gut. But while her expression darkened, the sympathy didn't budge.

‘Why would you think that?' she asked. ‘No one's born a loser. And certainly not you.'

‘You think?' he said, then rolled off her and flopped onto his back. He stared at the ceiling fan, of the villa he'd rebuilt, felt the warm breeze from the cove he owned, and the whisper of afterglow still lodged in his gut from the best sex of his life, which he'd indulged in to his heart's content for seven days straight...

‘You really wanna know? I'll tell you exactly why that kid was such a loser...' he said as the resentment surged all over again.

Because he couldn't destroy the feeling that there was something he needed, something he wanted, but something he could never have.

‘My old man didn't want me,' he confessed, the old bitterness curdling in his stomach.

Of course, his half-brother hadn't wanted him either, but he had no intention of cluing her in to the identity of the legacy he'd fought so hard for, or she would know exactly how pathetic he had once been—because begging Brandon Cade for a job as a clueless kid had definitely been his lowest point.

‘How do you know that?' Milly asked, her incredulous voice tempting him away from the bitterest memory of his adolescence.

He glanced her way, and the weight in his gut twisted. Damn, she really was clueless about how the world worked. Even if her own father had rejected her, too. Perhaps it was time to set her straight, and tell her the whole sordid story, so he could lift this weight once and for all.

‘My mum became his mistress when she was still a teenager.' He shrugged. ‘Eventually, he got her pregnant. He was furious and gave her the money to get rid of the problem.' If he told her the shame he had lived with for so long, the truth would have no power over him any more. ‘But she wouldn't have a termination—because she had some stupid idea she loved him and if she had his child, he would marry her. She was pretty na?ve about men. So, of course, he dumped her and she was left destitute, with a kid she couldn't afford, and eventually couldn't cope with.' Because he'd taken so much of his anger and resentment out on her. ‘If that's not being born a loser. I don't know what is.'

‘It sounds to me like your father was the loser. Not you,' Milly said softly, feeling sick at what Roman had told her. And the way in which he'd said it, as if he were talking about another person. In another life. She supposed, in some ways, he was.

She understood now, where his drive and ambition came from.

He turned to stare at her, but then his lips curved in the cynical smile she remembered from when they had first met, but she hadn't seen in a while.

‘He wasn't my father...he was just a sperm donor. I never even met the guy.'

‘How can you be sure, then, that he wanted your mother to get an abortion?' she asked, her heart breaking for the child who had been led to believe he didn't matter.

‘Because my mum told me,' he said simply, as if it weren't a big deal.

Milly stared at him, horrified. ‘But that's... That's dreadful. She shouldn't have done that.'

The cynical smile spread, becoming almost pitying. And her heart broke even more, not just for the boy he'd been, but also for the man. She already knew he didn't believe in love. Because he'd said as much when they'd embarked on this two-week fling. But it seemed his cynicism was more ingrained than she'd realised.

‘Why shouldn't she have, when it was the truth?' he asked.

‘Because no child should be told something like that,' she said, disturbed by how easily he had accepted his mother's actions—and she suspected internalised that hurt. Or how could he seem so blasé about it now?

‘You don't know what a pain in the backside I was as a kid,' he said ruefully. ‘I resented how we had to live, the guys she would bring home to keep her company. I bunked off school, got into trouble with the law when I was still barely a teenager... I made her life hell. And she was sick of it. I guess she wanted me to know what she had given up to have me...'

‘That's beside the point,' she cut in, imagining him as a child, and how the rough upbringing he had described must have limited his opportunities. How had he triumphed over that?

‘My dad left us when Lacey and I were still little,' she said. ‘And he never wanted visitation rights. Because he was only interested in his new family. But my mother went out of her way to let us know that his actions had no bearing on who we were, or what we did. I think it's a shame your mother made you think that circumstances that occurred before you were even born were somehow your fault.'

He tucked a knuckle under her chin, drew her face up to his. ‘That's cute,' he murmured, the mocking tone deliberate, but the cynicism had lost that hard edge when he added, ‘But you don't have to defend that little bastard. Because he doesn't exist any more.'

Except he does, she thought as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss went from casual to carnal in a heartbeat, as the passion flared anew. But as he caressed her in ways he knew would drive her wild, and the intoxicating sensation spread, emotion wrapped around her ribs and squeezed.

She cradled his cheeks, drew his face to hers. But in those deep green eyes she could still see the wary tension alongside the fierce desire.

The boy was still there, inside the man. Scared to love, scared to be vulnerable, because he had once been told he didn't matter, by someone who should have protected him—the way her mother had always protected her.

She clung onto that thought as they made love again. And afterwards, as Roman slept beside her, his face relaxed in sleep, she knew she would be wrong to believe she could change him. She couldn't undo his past, nor could she make this relationship last, but at the same time she wanted him to know he mattered to her. And he always would.

He'd given her the opportunity to find herself and her passion—not just for her art, but also for her future—in this brief interlude... She was so much more optimistic now about her goals, and her ability to achieve them, but she was also so much more confident now about who she was as a woman. And he'd given her all that.

It seemed only fair for her to find a way to return the favour.