Poppy took a sip of her champagne. ‘Do your brothers have private jets too or do you share this one?’
‘We each have our own. My grandfather has two.’
She studied him for a moment. ‘Do you ever think of how different your life would be if you’d been born into another family? One without loads and loads of money to burn?’
A frown settled between his brows. ‘I don’t burn money for the sake of it, Poppy.’
She toyed with the stem of her glass. ‘Maybe not, but I bet you’ve never had to worry about where your next meal is coming from.’
‘I know that anyone looking from the outside would think people with enormous wealth have it easy, but having money brings its own issues,’ he said. ‘The one you mentioned the first day we met, for instance.’
Poppy screwed up her face as she tried to remember. ‘What did I say?’
‘You said I probably lie awake at night wondering if people liked me for me or just for my money.’
She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t even know you then. I was just making horrible assumptions about you.’
He stroked a finger down the back of her hand resting on the armrest between them. ‘I made a few about you that weren’t all that accurate too.’
Poppy met his gaze. ‘I want you to know I like you for you, not for your money. We could’ve come to Paris by car or even by train or bus and I wouldn’t have minded one little bit.’
His smile was lopsided as he brushed the curve of her cheek with an idle fingertip. ‘You’re very sweet, Poppy Silverton.’
‘I expect what you really mean is I’m terribly naïve.’
His smile was exchanged for a frown. ‘Why would you think that?’
Poppy gave him a direct look. ‘How do I know this trip to Paris isn’t part of your plan to get me to relinquish the dower house?’
His frown deepened. ‘Is that what you really think?’
‘You can’t deny you still want it.’
‘Of course I still want it,’ he said. ‘But that’s got nothing to do with our affair.’
Poppy wanted to believe him. She ached to believe him. But how could she be sure what his motives were? He had been upfront about his intentions over the dower house from the very first day. He wasn’t one to be dissuaded from a goal.
He played to win, not to lose.
A compromise would be anathema to someone as task-oriented as him. He would see that as failure, as a weakness.
‘I’m not going to sell it to you, Rafe. I don’t care how many private jets you take me on, or how much champagne you give me to drink. I’m not selling my house to you, or to anyone.’
He unclipped his belt and stood up, raking a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration and impatience. ‘Do you really think I would stoop that low?’ he asked. ‘What sort of man do you think I am?’
‘A very determined one.’ She eyeballed him. ‘Stealthy, single-minded and steely, or so the press would have us believe.’
He gave a cynical bark of laughter. ‘And you take that as gospel, do you?’
‘I want to believe your motives are honourable,’ Poppy said. ‘But how can I be sure you want me for me?’
He came over to her and lifted her chin so her gaze meshed with his. ‘I’m not going to deny I want the dower house. I can’t go ahead with my development plans for the manor without it. But this thing between us is entirely separate.’
Was it? Was it really?
He unclipped her belt and drew her to her feet. ‘I want you, ma chérie. I’ve wanted you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you.’
But for how long? The words were a mocking taunt inside her head. His track record of quickly turned-over relationships didn’t bode well for her hopes of marriage and babies and a happy-ever-after. It was the hopeless romantic in her that hoped she would be the one to change him.