She hated being railroaded, and as the conversation turned to dredging the bay to build a fabulous marina, and clearing vast swathes of land for the luxury hotel and golf course, she could feel her tension growing. Xavier could turn on the charisma, and had won everyone over. He could have suggested erecting a launch pad for moon rockets and she guessed the result would have been the same. Everyone was so pleased to see him, they would have agreed to anything he cared to suggest, and he would push these plans through, regardless of her opinion.
She waited until everyone had left before confronting him with her concerns. ‘A six-star hotel? A golf course and marina? Do you think that’s what Doña Anna intended?’
‘Doña Anna isn’t here to guard her island any more,’ he said, easing onto one taut hip. ‘We have to do that for her.’
She shook her head and laughed. ‘You’ll spoil the island. You’ll tear it apart.’
‘And you’d see it crumble into the sea,’ he countered, straightening up. ‘Improvements have to be made.’
‘I agree,’ she exclaimed with frustrat
ion. ‘But why can’t they happen slowly, and develop naturally?’
‘You might have time for that—the islanders don’t. I’m offering jobs today, not uncertainty tomorrow.’
And Margaret had said they could compromise?
‘You only see what you want to see, Rosie,’ Xavier insisted. ‘And I understand why. You had a difficult life before you met Doña Anna. The contrast between here and the orphanage must have been extreme, so now you only see the good things and blank the rest. But that’s no good to the islanders. They need progress now.’
‘I’d do anything for them...anything.’
‘I know that. So take my money. Make a good life for yourself,’ he said quietly and intently, ‘somewhere else.’
For a moment she was lost for words. The island was her home, the only home she wanted. It was everything she had ever dreamed of; that and a family of her own. The islanders and Doña Anna had given her that family, welcoming her to their beautiful island with open arms. Now it was her turn to do everything in her power to help them. She was getting better at writing to companies she’d found on the Internet, and she had sourced a huge number of charities to approach for grants. It was all work in progress, but she couldn’t walk away from it now. Just because she hadn’t received any positive replies yet, didn’t mean she was ready to give up.
‘Who is more likely to make things right for the islanders?’ Xavier pressed. ‘You, or me?’
His words stung her, because they were too dangerously close to the truth. But she couldn’t back down now. She remembered the orphanage, and the matron deriding her. Rosie had wanted to stay on at school and go to college, but had been told that she could put that out of her head, as there were no funds for that sort of thing, and she didn’t have the brains for it, anyway.
What if the matron was right?
Never mind that. Was she being selfish? Would Xavier’s plans be better for the island?
No. Shaking her head, she remembered her promise. ‘If you would only help me a little—maybe introduce me to some of your contacts, I could put the islanders’ scheme in front of them, and try to get the business off the ground. Surely, there could be room for your scheme and theirs if everything was coordinated properly?’
‘Are you backing down?’
‘No,’ she said firmly.
‘In that case, I can only assume that you’re asking me to help you fund your dream of Utopia.’
‘All I’m asking is that you act as a go-between in this one small thing.’
‘It isn’t a small thing to invite my contacts to invest in you. Exactly how much experience of running a business shall I tell them you have? And make no mistake, Rosie, doing what you’re suggesting—turning smallholders into commercial farmers—will be one hell of a business. You’d have to replace the infrastructure of the island, just for a start.’
‘You’ll need to do the same thing,’ she protested. ‘Why can’t we work together?’
The sensible thing, Xavier reasoned, was to pay her off and send her packing, but so far they hadn’t found a price. And though Rosie Clifton was the biggest risk to clear thinking he’d ever met, he was loath to send her away.
‘If you’re serious about this, you have to start thinking commercially. You need to meet the right people—’
‘Exactly,’ she interrupted, her eyes firing with passion. ‘But how am I supposed to do that, unless you help me?’
‘My money, your heart?’ he mocked lightly.
‘Why not?’ She didn’t even blink.
‘All right,’ he agreed, accepting her challenge. ‘I’m holding a cocktail party at my apartment on the mainland. The guests will be exactly the type of people you need to meet.’