He should have known it wouldn’t last.
Later that night, as they were served dinner by the rented villa’s housekeeper, Rose suddenly looked up at him in the candlelight. The two of them were sitting together at the end of a long table, in front of the wall of windows with a view of the moonlit Pacific and the Gulf of Cortez. He could see an old fishing boat with hanging lights, and in the distance was an enormous cruise ship. Mariachi music from the resort town below drifted up the hillside through the open windows.
Rose took a bracing gulp of a lime margarita, then leaned forward over the table. The candlelight cast shadows on her face, giving her the beautiful, concerned expression of a Renaissance Madonna as she asked quietly, “Why have we been traveling so much? Has Lars called the police? Has he been chasing us?”
Xerxes snorted. “Växborg would never call the police. That would just reveal his own crimes. He’s still in Las Vegas, settling the divorce.”
“Then why?” She pressed her lips together. “It must be your business making such demands,” she said softly. She shook her head. “It must exhaust you.”
He wanted to explain to her that it wasn’t his business, just his failure to find Laetitia that kept them constantly on the move; but the words choked in his throat. He couldn’t bear Rose’s sympathy now, on top of everything else. If she tried to smile and tell him consolingly that he was still a good man and no doubt trying his best, or that it wasn’t his fault, he would smash the wall with his fist.
When he did not reply, she looked down at her plate. She took another bite of her enchiladas de mariscos. Waving her fork, she tilted her head at him, her eyes gleaming.
“I know you’re rich and powerful and all,” she teased, clearly trying to elevate the mood, “but what exactly do you do, anyway?”
Xerxes served himself more of the enchiladas and fish tacos that the villa’s cook had prepared. “I buy distressed companies. I sell the divisions that are profitable. I discard the parts that are not.”
Her face closed down. “Oh.”
He blinked at her. “You don’t approve?”
She shook her head.
“Why?” he asked curiously.
She shrugged.
“Tell me.”
She sighed. “Look, I know I don’t have any right to criticize. You’re a millionaire with a private jet and I’m a waitress with fifty dollars in my bank account. But I’ve been working my way through college, studying entrepreneurial business management at San Francisco State…” She hesitated, biting her lip, as if she expected him to mock her.
He leaned forward in his chair. “Go on.”
“Your company seems profitable, and that’s great, but…”
“Yes?”
She pressed her lips together, then looked up. “But people work at those companies. People who lose their jobs.”
“So?”
There was a loud burst of mariachi music from the town below, and she looked in the distance at the dark, moonswept Pacific. “I’m biased, I guess. My grandfather had a candy company a long time ago. It did really well, then things fell apart. Ingredients became more expensive, and we didn’t have the nationwide distribution of the larger companies. Ten years ago, after my father took over, a conglomerate offered to buy Linden Candy. It would have made us wealthy, but my dad knew they’d close the factory and move production, leaving half our town out of work. So for the sake of his employees—his neighbors and friends—my father refused.”
“Foolish.”
“No, not foolish!” she retorted. “It was noble. Courageous, even. My dad said we would either all sink together, or he would find a way to make the company succeed.”
“And what happened?”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “In spite of all his best efforts, the company went bankrupt.”
Xerxes gave a single firm nod. “He never should have allowed his feelings to override his business judgment.”
“He was protecting his employees!”
“He didn’t protect them. He failed them. And worse—he failed you. If he’d sold the company, you wouldn’t be working your way through college at the age of twenty-nine.”
She glared at him. “My father did the right thing. He held to his principles. I thought you of all people would appreciate that.”
“I of all people believe in facing reality. The company was a business. Not a charitable institution.”
“You sound so harsh!”
“That is how business works,” he said evenly, dipping his taco chips into his shrimp ceviche and fresh guacamole. “Things that were once successful die, they get replaced by the new. Business.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” She bit her lip, then said in a rush, “Someday, I’ll start it up again. I’ve made up a business plan. I’ll find a way to open the factory and—”
“Forget it,” he said brutally. “Accept it’s over and move on.”
She looked away, trembling. She took a gulp of lime margarita, then set the glass back down on the table. “It’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? You just break companies up for parts. Dissecting and eating them like a vulture.”
“It’s profitable.”
“You would have no clue how to truly run a company, to love it and invest your heart and soul in it.”
“You’re right,” he said. “And I wouldn’t want to. I don’t want it to be personal. It’s business.”
“Nothing’s ever personal for you, is it?” Putting her hands on the table, she pushed herself to her feet. “I feel sorry for you. I do.”
If it had been anyone else, he would have shrugged off their criticism and let them leave. But not Rose. She was the one person he couldn’t stand to be angry at him.
He reached his hand over hers. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t wish to fight with you.”
Her eyes relented. “I don’t want to fight, either.” She licked her lips and said, “But if you could just see how much greater it could be, how much more satisfying and challenging, to actually create something of value, anything—”
“No,” he said. “Even if I could do it, I wouldn’t. It would be a waste of energy and money.” He rose to his feet. “You’ve been cooped up in this penthouse all day. Shall we go out?”
“Out?” she said in astonishment.
He shrugged, even as his eyes caressed her. “I hear music from town. Want to go dancing with me?”
She sucked in her breath. “You would let me go out in public? You’d trust me not to run to the police?”
“If you’ll give me your word you won’t, I’ll trust you.”
“I give you my word,” she said, then paused. “Anyway, I want to help Laetitia now. I…want to help you.”
Of course she did, Xerxes thought, his eyes searching her sweetly beautiful face as if memorizing it for eternity. He’d kidnapped her, seduced her, refused to answer her questions. And yet she wanted to help him. Rose had the most loving heart of any woman—any person—he’d ever known.
She bit her lip, her face suddenly