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I choose my next words carefully. “I’m a terrible tour guide. And I’m quite sure I have nothing else to offer your daughter.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

“Perhaps the woman you brought to my party?” Christian presses. “She was charming.”

I gesture toward the television. “An American on holiday.”

“Ahh. She’ll go back to her world, and you’ll be in yours.”

The truth in his words makes me want to break the espresso cup.

She’s back with a vengeance. The way she looks playing the booth at my club. How she flips both fingers in the air.

How I want her not to sheathe her claws but bare them, to rake them over every inch of me.

I hate the idea of her leaving. Once I arrange the purchase of La Mer, I’ll finish the season in Ibiza and return to… what exactly? Shuttling between properties in London and Tokyo? Eating expensive meals with socialites and models, doing deals on airplanes?

Even if I wanted to get closer to Rae, her contract is almost up. She’ll be gone with the money she so shrewdly bargained for, and I’ll have a resurrected club in the form of Debajo.

It seems a fair trade.

But it doesn’t feel like it.

“Harrison, I would like to finalize this deal as much as you would. I’m an old man with many things occupying my time until I can divest myself of them. However, I can’t focus on them when the most important one is beyond those doors.” He gestures toward the hallway, his eyes crinkling. “I’m asking you, as a friend, to take my daughter around town. She hasn’t told me she wants this, but I sense it in her. She would not ask for it. And alas, she does not want to be shown by her father.”

I set the espresso on the table, untouched.

“As long as you and she understand this is nothing more.”

He lifts his hands. “I would not presume to meddle in matters of the heart. I am more interested in matters of finance.” Christian drains the last of his coffee before rising, indicating we’re done. “And soon, I will no longer be interested in those either.”

“Does Toro know you’re waxing his car?”

Rae’s voice from a few feet behind me later that afternoon makes me straighten from the fender of the Rolls-Royce.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I say, tossing the rag over my shoulder and wiping an arm across my brow as I turn. “He’ll have my head.”

In the middle of my driveway, she’s a mirage. Her black shorts are trendy, her white top with wide straps that leave her shoulders bare clings to every curve, and her hair is down around her shoulders.

She could pass for a local, and she’s stunning.

Rae sidles closer, folding her arms and squinting into the sun to meet my gaze. “He told me he was the first staff you hired back after your parents died once you could afford to.”

“A man needs a driver and a housekeeper.”

“Did you have a house to keep?”

“A rental at first,” I concede, returning to my task.

“I didn’t know you owned a T-shirt.”

“Only this one.” If I’d known a T-shirt would have this effect on her, maybe I would wear them more often. “When I need to clear my head, I try to do something… simple.”

I’m still bothered by my meeting with Christian and not comfortable with where we landed. Part of my discomfort has to do with the woman next to me.

Rae surveys the car and me. “Well, your head doesn’t seem clear, and the car’s shinier than the day it came out of the factory.”

I arch a brow. “Meaning?”