The Prince's Convenient Proposal Read online

  Disappointed, Rafe accepted this with a dignified bow. ‘Thanks for your time,’ he said politely. ‘I hope your other problems are quickly sorted.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Charlie dropped her gaze to her phone and began to scroll through numbers.

  Rafe turned to leave. This dash to the southern hemisphere had been a fruitless exercise, a waste of precious time. His detectives would have to work doubly hard now to find Olivia.

  ‘But maybe I could see you this evening.’

  Charlie’s voice brought him whirling round.

  She looked rather forlorn and very alone as she stood at the counter, phone in hand. To Rafe’s dismay her eyes were glittering with tears.

  So different from the tough little terrier who’d barked at him when he first arrived in her gallery.

  Maybe I could see you this evening.

  He wasn’t planning to hang around here till this evening. If Charlie couldn’t help him, he would leave Sydney as soon as his private jet was available for take-off.

  But the news of her mother and sister had clearly rocked her, and it had come on top of a distressing phone call from her father. With some reluctance, Rafe couldn’t deny that he was part-way responsible for Charlie’s pain. And he couldn’t stifle a small skerrick of hope.

  He was running out of time. If this was a dead end, he needed to hurry home, but if there was even a slight chance that she could help...

  ‘I’ve got the gallery to run and some important family business to sort out,’ Charlie said self-importantly. ‘But I’d like to know more about Olivia. Maybe we could grab a very quick coffee?’

  Was it worth the bother of wasting precious hours for a very quick coffee? The chances of persuading this girl to take off with him were microscopic.

  But what other options did he have? Olivia had well and truly gone to ground.

  Rafe heard himself saying, ‘I could come back here at six.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘Right, then. Let’s do that.’

  * * *

  By the end of the day, Charlie was feeling quite desperate. Her phone calls hadn’t produced promising results. Apart from launching a Save Isla charity fund, she didn’t have too many options. When she called her father she learned that he hadn’t fared any better.

  After her very quick meeting with Rafe, she and her father planned to meet to discuss strategies, and Charlie knew she would be up all night, setting up a website and a special Facebook page, and responding to the media outlets she’d contacted during the day.

  Unfortunately, there would be no time to challenge her father about Olivia. Charlie was deeply hurt that he’d never told her about her twin sister, but right now she had another sister to worry about, and she knew her dad was beside himself with worry. It was totally the wrong time to pester him about Olivia Belaire.

  * * *

  Promptly at six, Rafe was waiting at the gallery’s front door. To Charlie’s surprise, he’d changed into a black T-shirt and jeans, and the casual look, complete with a five o’clock shadow and windblown hair, made him look less like a corporate raider and more like—

  Gulp.

  The man of her dreams.

  She quickly knocked that thought on the head. She was already regretting her impulsive request to see him again. There was little she could learn about Olivia over a quick cup of coffee. But Charlie needed to understand why her sister might have agreed to marry such a compellingly attractive guy and then run away from him.

  It was bad enough having one sister to worry about. She needed Rafe to set her mind at rest, so she could channel all her attention to Isla’s cause.

  Suddenly having two sisters, both of them in trouble, was hard to wrap her head around. As for her emotions, she’d have to sort them out later. Right now, she was running on pure adrenaline.

  * * *

  In no time, Charlie and Rafe were seated in a booth in the café around the corner, which was now packed with the after-work crowd. The smell of coffee and Greek pastry filled the small but popular space and they had to lean close to be heard above the noisy chatter.

  ‘We should have gone back to my hotel,’ Rafe said, scowling at the crowded booths.

  ‘No,’ Charlie responded quite definitely.

  ‘It would have been quieter.’

  ‘But it would have taken time. Time I don’t have.’

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her, but he’d lost the hawk-eyed detective look. Now he just looked extraordinarily hot, and she found herself fighting the tingles and flashes his proximity caused.

  Their coffees arrived. A tiny cup of espresso for Rafe and a mug of frothy cappuccino for Charlie, as well as a serving of baklava. Charlie’s tummy rumbled at the sight of the flaky filo pastry layered with cinnamon-spiced nut filling. Rafe had declared that he wasn’t hungry, but she wasn’t prepared to hold back. This would probably be the only meal she’d have time for this evening.

  She scooped a creamy dollop of froth from the top of her mug. ‘So, the thing I need to know, Rafe, is why my sister ran away from you.’

  He smiled. It was only a faint smile, but enough to light up his grey eyes in ways that made Charlie feel slightly breathless. ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that,’ he said. ‘She didn’t leave an explanation.’

  ‘But something must have happened. Did you have a row?’

  ‘Not at all. Our relationship was very—’ He paused as if he was searching for the right word. ‘Very civilised.’

  Charlie thought this was a strange word to describe a romantic liaison. Where was the soppiness? The passion? She imagined that getting engaged to a man like Rafe would involve a truckload of passion.

  Even so, she found herself believing him when he said he hadn’t hurt Olivia. ‘So you’ve heard nothing,’ she said. ‘You must be terribly worried.’

  ‘I have received a postcard,’ said Rafe. ‘There were no postage marks. The card was hand delivered, but unfortunately no one realised the significance until it was too late. It simply said that Olivia was fine and she was sorry.’

  ‘Oh.’ Charlie offered him an awkward smile of sympathy. No matter what reasons Olivia had for wanting to get out of the engagement, she’d been flaky to just take off, without facing up to Rafe with a proper explanation.

  ‘My mother ran away,’ she told him, overlooking the hurt this admission made.

  Rafe lifted one dark eyebrow. ‘Do you think Olivia might have inherited an escapee gene?’

  Charlie was sure he hadn’t meant this seriously, but the mere mention of inheritance and genes reminded her of Isla. She had to make this conversation quick, so she could get on with more important matters. ‘Look,’ she said, frowning, to let him know she was serious. ‘I’d really like to know a little more about my sister. Where did you meet her?’

  ‘In Saint-Tropez. At a party.’

  ‘So, she’s—well off?’

  ‘Her father—her mother’s husband,’ Rafe corrected, ‘is an extremely wealthy businessman. They have a house in the French Riviera and another in Switzerland, and I think there might also be a holiday house in America.’

  ‘Wow.’ And my father can’t even afford to buy one house. Charlie tried to imagine her sister’s life. ‘Does she have a job?’

  ‘None that I know of.’

  ‘So, how does she spend her days?’

  ‘Her days?’ Rafe’s lip curled in a slightly bitter smile. ‘Olivia’s not exactly a daytime sort of person. She’s more of a night owl.’

  Charlie blinked at this. She only had the vaguest notions of life on the French Riviera. She supposed Olivia was part of the jet-set who spent their time partying and shopping for clothes. If she emerged in the daylight, it was probably to lie in the sun, working hard on her suntan. Just the same, it bothered her that Rafe wasn’t speaking abo
ut her sister with any sense of deep fondness. ‘And what sort of work do you do?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s a complicated question.’

  She felt a burst of impatience. ‘I don’t have much time.’

  ‘Then I’ll cut to the chase. I’m my country’s ruler.’

  Charlie stared at him, mouth gaping, as she struggled to take this in. ‘A ruler? Like—like a king?’

  ‘Montaigne’s only a small principality, but yes.’ His voice dropped as if he didn’t wish to be overheard. ‘I’m the Prince of Montaigne. Prince Rafael the Third, to be exact.’

  ‘Holy—’ Just in time, Charlie cut off a swear word. She couldn’t believe she’d met a real live prince and was sitting in her local café with him. Couldn’t believe that her sister had actually scored a prince as a fiancé. ‘You mean I should be calling you Sir, or Your Highness, or something?’

  Rafe smiled. ‘Please, no. Rafe’s fine.’

  Almost immediately, another thought struck Charlie. ‘Olivia might have been abducted, mightn’t she? That postcard might have been a—a hoax.’

  Rafe shook his head. ‘Security footage in the castle shows her leaving of her own volition. We know she drove her car towards Grenoble. After that—?’ He frowned. ‘She disappeared.’

  ‘She might have been kidnapped.’

  ‘There’s been no request for a ransom.’

  ‘Right.’ Charlie gave a helpless shrug. ‘And you’ve had your people searching everywhere? Even down here in Australia?’

  ‘Yes.’

  As Charlie sipped her coffee, she tried to put herself in Olivia Belaire’s shoes. What would it be like to be engaged to this good-looking Prince? To be marrying into royalty? Would Olivia have been expected to undertake a host of public duties? Would she be required to chair meetings? Run charities? Visit the children’s hospital?

  At the very thought of a children’s hospital, she shivered. Poor little Isla.

  Fascinating though this conversation was, she’d have to cut it short.

  But, as she speared a piece of baklava with her fork, she couldn’t help asking, ‘Do you think Olivia might have got cold feet? Could she have been worried about the whole royalty thing? All the responsibilities?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘That’s hard on you, Rafe. I—I’m sorry.’ Lowering the enticing pastry to her plate, Charlie picked up her phone instead. She needed to check the time. She had to meet her father. She really should leave.

  As if he sensed this, Rafe said, ‘Before you go, I have a proposition.’

  ‘No way,’ Charlie said quickly, suddenly nervous. Prince or not, she’d only just met the man and she wasn’t about to become embroiled in his troubles. She had enough of her own.

  ‘You could earn a great deal of money,’ he said.

  Now he had her attention.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHARLIE CERTAINLY BRIGHTENED at the mention of money, and Rafe was surprised by his stab of disappointment. After all, her reaction was exactly what he’d expected.

  Now, however, caution also showed in Charlie’s expressive face, and that was also to be expected.

  ‘Why would you offer me money?’ she asked.

  ‘To entice you to stand in as your sister.’

  She stared at him as if he’d grown an extra head. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

  ‘I’m perfectly serious.’

  Leaning back, she continued to watch him with obvious distrust. ‘You want me to pretend to be your fiancée?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, that’s ridiculous. Why?’

  At least, she listened without interrupting while he explained. She leaned forward again, elbows on the table, chin resting in one hand, blue eyes intent, listening as if transfixed. Rafe told her about the inconvenient clause in Montaigne’s constitution, about the country’s mineral wealth and the very real threat of a takeover, and the possibility of ruin for the people who meant so much to him.

  Charlie didn’t speak when he finished. She sat for a minute or two, staring first at him and then into space with a small furrow between her neatly arched brows. Then she picked up her phone.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said without looking up from the small screen. ‘I’m just researching you.’

  Rafe smiled. ‘Of course.’ He drained his coffee and sat back, waiting with barely restrained patience. But despite his tension, he thought how pleasant it was to be in a country where almost nobody knew him. Of course, his bodyguards were positioned just outside the café, but in every other way he was just an ordinary customer in a small Sydney coffee shop, chatting with a very pretty girl. The anonymity was a luxury he rarely enjoyed.

  ‘Wow,’ Charlie said, looking up from her phone. ‘You’re the real deal.’

  Rafe’s moment of fantasy was over. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Would you consider my proposal?’

  She grimaced. ‘I hate to sound mercenary, but how much money are we talking about?’

  ‘Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars US.’

  Charlie’s eyes almost popped out of her head. Her first instinct was to say no, she couldn’t possibly consider accepting such a sum. But then she remembered Isla.

  Fanning her face with her hand, she took several deep breaths before she answered. ‘Crikey, Rafe, you sure know how to tempt a girl.’

  Wow—not only would she be able to help Isla, she would be a step closer to finding out about Olivia as well. How could she pass up such an opportunity to meet her long-lost sister and maybe get some answers?

  But even as she played with these beguiling possibilities Charlie gave Rafe a rueful smile. ‘It wouldn’t work, though, would it? I’d give the game away as soon as I arrived in Montaigne and opened my mouth.’

  Yes, her Aussie accent was a problem. ‘Do you speak French?’

  ‘Oui.’

  ‘You learnt French here in Australia?’ Rafe asked in French.

  ‘I went to school in New Caledonia,’ Charlie replied with quite a passable French accent. ‘I lived there for a few years with my father. Our teacher was a proper Frenchwoman. Mademoiselle Picard.’

  Rafe smiled with relief. Charlie’s French might be limited, but she could probably get by. ‘I think you would manage well enough. Olivia isn’t a native French speaker.’

  ‘As long as I dropped the crikeys?’

  His smile deepened. ‘That would certainly help, but we would try to limit the amount of time you needed to speak in public. It’s all about appearances, really. And when it comes to how you look, you certainly had me and my detectives fooled.’

  ‘But I haven’t agreed to this,’ Charlie said quickly. ‘It’s so risky. I mean, there’s so much room for things to go wrong. What will happen, for example, if Olivia doesn’t turn up before your cut-off date? I couldn’t possibly marry you.’

  She went bright pink as she said this.

  Rafe watched the rosy tide with fascination. This girl was such a beguiling mix of innocence and worldliness. But now wasn’t the time to be distracted.

  ‘I’m confident we’ll find Olivia,’ he assured her. ‘But whatever happens, you have my word. If you come to Montaigne with me, you’ll be free to leave at the end of the month, if not sooner.’

  ‘Hmm... What about—?’ Charlie looked embarrassed. ‘You—you wouldn’t expect me to actually behave like a fiancée, would you? In private, I mean?’

  This time Rafe manfully held back his urge to smile. ‘Are you worried that I’d expect to ravish you on a nightly basis?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She dropped her gaze to the half-eaten baklava on her plate. ‘Well, yes...perhaps. I guess...’

  ‘There’s no need to worry,’ he said more gently. ‘Again, you have my word, Charlie. If you agreed to
this, I would proudly escort you to public appearances as my fiancée, but in both public and in private I’d be a total gentleman. You’d have your own suite of rooms in the castle.’

  Just the same, the thought of taking Charlie to bed was tempting. Extremely so. Despite her innocent, cautious façade, Rafe sensed an exciting wildness in her, an essential spark he’d found lacking in her sister.

  But, sadly, his years as a playboy prince were behind him. Now responsibility for his country weighed heavily. If Charlie agreed to return with him to Montaigne, the engagement would be a purely political, diplomatic exercise, just as it had been with Olivia.

  Charlie was very quiet now, as if she was giving his proposal serious thought.

  ‘So what do you think?’ he couldn’t help prompting, while trying desperately to keep the impatience from his voice.

  Charlie looked up at him, all big blue eyes and dark lashes, and he could see her internal battle as she weighed up the pros and cons.

  Rafe wished he understood those cons. Was she worried about leaving her job at short notice? Were there family commitments? Did this involve the phone call from her father? A jealous lover?

  He frowned at this last possibility. But surely, if there was a serious boyfriend on the scene, Charlie would have mentioned him by now.

  ‘I can’t pretend I’m not interested, Rafe,’ she said suddenly. ‘But I need to talk to—to someone.’

  So...perhaps there was a boyfriend, after all. Rafe tried not to frown.

  ‘When do you need a decision?’ she asked.

  ‘As soon as possible. I hoped to fly out tonight.’

  ‘Tonight? Can you book a flight that quickly?’

  ‘I don’t need to book. I have a private jet.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Charlie said softly and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’re a prince.’ She gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head, but then her gaze was direct as she met his. ‘What time do you want to leave, then?’ she asked.

  Now. ‘Ten o’clock? Eleven at the latest.’ He pulled a chequebook from his pocket and filled in the necessary details, including his scrawled signature. ‘Take this with you,’ he said as he tore off the cheque.