Kitabı oku: «Love Islands…The Collection», sayfa 46

Chapter Three

‘YOUR PENTHOUSE?’ LILY couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. ‘I’m staying in your penthouse?’ Her fingers dug at her chair’s leather arms.

‘No other floor has a roof garden or swimming pool.’ He surveyed her as if analysing a curious specimen.

For the second time that day she felt almost like she were blushing.

‘I didn’t open the blinds. It was late and I was jet-lagged and—’ She snapped her mouth shut before she blurted out any more. She’d had a vague impression of a spacious sitting room, of stylish furnishings, but she’d never dreamed...

‘Never mind, you’ll see the roof garden later.’

Lily shook her head. ‘There won’t be a later. I can’t stay there.’

‘But you said the accommodation was perfectly adequate.’ This time his mouth didn’t curl in a smile but she knew he was laughing at her. How could he not be when she was too thick to realise she’d spent the night in a Manhattan penthouse?

‘It’s your home. It wouldn’t be appropriate.’

Raffa couldn’t imagine any of the women he’d dated turning down an opportunity to move into his apartment, even if just the guest quarters. They’d see it as a stepping stone to more.

He’d known Lily Nolan was different from the moment she picked up the phone and spoke in that sultry midnight voice. It had evoked a fragile tendril of something—not quite arousal, but definite interest.

She continued to pique his interest. She was...refreshing. Intriguing. Not because of her damaged face or appalling clothes. He, of all people, was the last person to judge on looks.

How many years since he’d found any woman interesting?

He leaned closer, registering her subtle shift as she compensated by pressing back into her chair.

Did she dislike men or just him?

The fact he wondered pulled him up short.

He wouldn’t be distracted into musing on Lily Nolan’s likes and dislikes. But he did need to ensure he’d made the right decision, bringing her here. Too much rode on this.

‘If I think the arrangement appropriate then who’s to say otherwise?’

‘Are you perverse with everyone or just me?’ She spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable with clipped precision. ‘I can’t live in your home.’

‘Is it your privacy you’re concerned about? Are you worried I’ll invade your space?’

The paparazzi labelled him a playboy because he wasn’t seen with the same woman twice. No one knew that was due to boredom and a dislike of being the object of any greedy woman’s avarice. These days his reputation for carnal pleasure owed everything to the fantasies of those he hadn’t taken to bed. He hadn’t desired a woman in years.

They always wanted something from him. Always had.

He hated how that made him feel.

Surely Lily Nolan didn’t think he was so desperate he’d sexually harass his staff?

‘The guest wing is separate, with its own entrance. There’s a lock on the door connecting to the rest of the penthouse so you’ll be quite alone.’ In light of experience, he should be worried about her intruding.

Yet she remained silent. Indignation rose.

The sensation made him pause. Raffa couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt it.

Because he always got his own way?

Or because there was little except business that he cared about, including what people thought of him?

‘The arrangement is temporary. My PA had organised accommodation but there was trouble with burst pipes yesterday. The place is badly water damaged.’

‘I could stay at a hotel.’

‘You could, but you said you couldn’t afford that. Something about spending your salary on other things.’

Her eyebrows lifted as if she recognised his curiosity and was surprised by it.

Dannazione! He was surprised by it!

‘You couldn’t have put me up somewhere else?’

‘Because I’m rolling in cash?’ She had a point. It would have been the work of a moment for Pete to make alternative arrangements. But Raffa was already financing her New York stay in style. Besides, having her close meant a chance to satisfy his curiosity.

‘I didn’t get rich by wasting money, Ms Nolan. The guest suite is empty and convenient for your work here. I can be sure you’ll be on hand, doing what I want you to do, not off sightseeing.’

For a moment her eyes glowed and he could have sworn the temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. But her temper didn’t ignite. She really had phenomenal control.

Raffa refused to consider why he enjoyed testing it.

‘You may recall I didn’t want to come to New York. If you’re concerned I’ll get distracted I could go home and work there.’

He shook his head. ‘You’ll stay where you are till the other apartment is ready. I’m paying top dollar for your services. I want to be sure I get my money’s worth.’

‘You don’t trust me?’ Her head angled as if to view him better.

‘I don’t trust anyone till they prove themselves.’

Her gaze sharpened. ‘You were the one eager to have me here.’

He shrugged and steepled his hands, elbows on the arms of his chair.

‘Based on past performance, I judge you to be the person I need. But this project is more important than any you’ve done. Nothing will be left to chance.’

Lily looked into those bright blue eyes, felt the intensity of that searing stare and knew they’d reached the heart of things.

She felt the change in him. The quickening, the sizzle of energy.

Their conversation up to now had been skirmishes. Maybe he kept all new staff on their toes till he was convinced of their worth. Though why he’d take such a personal interest in her she couldn’t fathom.

‘Why is it so important?’

The furrow on his tanned brow disappeared as he leaned back. ‘I won’t brook failure on this.’

As far as Lily knew he never failed. Raffaele Petri had a nose for a good deal and a reputation for success. He also had an unerring instinct for what would appeal to the wealthiest clientele. That was how he’d built his fortune, with elite resorts, clubs and now marinas servicing those who demanded the best in everything. The rich always had enough to spend on themselves despite economic downturns that affected people like her, struggling to make a go of things.

‘This man I’m to focus on, Robert Bradshaw...’

‘Yes?’

‘Can you tell me about him?’

‘That’s your job. I want a full report—his business interests, friends and connections. Everything.’ Raffaele Petri’s expression didn’t alter but Lily heard something in his voice that made the hair at her nape rise.

She had the disquieting certainty she was venturing into dangerous waters. Once more instinct yelled at her to back out. But she had no choice. He’d destroy her reputation if she reneged on this job.

‘It would help if you told me something about the project.’

He regarded her, unblinking, and she shivered. It was said Raffaele Petri could seduce a woman with a glance from those stunning ocean-blue eyes. Not that he’d ever turn his fabled seduction skills on her. But what she read there now was hard calculation. Shrewdness as if he assessed her, deciding how much to share.

Not much, if the firm set of his sculpted jaw was an indication.

Lily stared back, trying to ignore the tremor of feminine response fluttering through her belly and the teasing trickle of heat in her blood.

What a time for her hormones to wake up from hibernation!

She breathed deep, corralling her thoughts. ‘My other commissions for you have been to research companies or commercial trends, even localities.’ They had been to determine if a site or company would be a good investment. ‘This time it’s about a man.’

Still he said nothing, as if waiting to see how far she could go connecting the dots.

Exasperation rose. ‘Is there a particular angle I’m to focus on?’

‘I told you. Everything. The size and nature of his income. His business associates. His interests, his weaknesses and habits. Who he sleeps with. The lot.’

Was it imagination, or did that stare harden?

She didn’t imagine it. His voice when he’d said ‘who he sleeps with’ was different, his Italian accent stronger, like rich chocolate coating a lethal stiletto blade. She fought to repress a shiver. Whoever Robert Bradshaw was, whatever he’d done, she’d hate to be in his shoes.

In that instant Lily felt what she’d understood only intellectually before: Raffaele Petri would be a dangerous enemy.

Just as well she was too insignificant to be his enemy.

‘I see.’ She didn’t, but clearly he wasn’t going to enlighten her. ‘Okay. I’ll do the best I can.’

‘That’s not good enough. I need to know you’ll deliver the goods.’

‘You’ll get your report, Signor Petri. But it will take time. This is a broad brief.’ She waved one hand, trying to look brisk and organised, despite the chill sinking between her shoulder blades. ‘His commercial interests and associates I can uncover. I’ll do a thorough check on all those. His property and lifestyle, ditto. But there are limits.’

‘Limits?’ Dark eyebrows rose as if he’d never heard the word.

‘I’m a researcher, Signor Petri, not a private detective. If you want information on this man’s personal life, you’d do better hiring one of those. They can stake out his residence and give you an account of his comings and goings.’

He was already shaking his head. ‘I learned long ago not to trust them. I want results, not excuses.’

Surprised, Lily leaned forward, then froze as she registered a warm, spicy scent. It teased her nostrils, sending shockwaves of delight to her belly.

It made her think of photos she’d seen of this man years ago. He’d lain half naked on a rumpled bed, jaw shadowed and his arms raised behind his head in a pose that accentuated the impressive musculature of his chest and arms. The sight had coaxed millions of women to buy decadently expensive aftershave for their men.

Was that what she smelled now? Lily inhaled, wondering at the art of producing a fragrance that seemed so purely natural, like hot male flesh and forbidden longing.

Abruptly she pulled back, trying to remember her train of thought.

That was it. When had he used private detectives in the past, and why didn’t he like them?

His expression made it clear he wouldn’t answer.

She shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. I’m just warning you that there are limits to my capabilities.’

‘Yet you once worked in a private detection firm, even received some training.’

Lily stared. He knew that about her? She tried to recall how much detail she’d included on her résumé, but what really surprised her was that he’d read it personally.

‘It was a long time ago and I didn’t qualify as a private investigator. The work didn’t suit me.’ She’d got sick of grubbing around in people’s personal lives. Commercial research was much less seedy.

‘But you have the skills. I want everything, from Bradshaw’s finances to his phone records.’

Lily laid her hands in her lap, maintaining her aura of calm despite the alarm bells going off in her head.

‘Unless you have a warrant, phone records are protected.’ She paused, breathing deep. ‘Obviously you’re not talking about hacking into phone company records.’

Those straight, decisive eyebrows rose. ‘Aren’t I? But I understood you included hacking in your skill set.’

Lily reared back, her seat sliding away from the conference table. ‘How did you know that? It was years ago.’

Her breath came in staccato bursts. It had been years since anyone had mentioned her one brush with the law. She’d been just a kid, bored from being alone so much, cut off from her friends by the regime of medical treatment and surgery she’d undergone. And by the fact that to a lot of her schoolmates she’d become a freak. Not just because of her scars, but because she’d been the one to survive. She’d wondered if they felt guilty because secretly they’d have preferred it if her popular friend Rachel had lived, not her.

Emotion tugged at her like an ocean current, threatening to pull her under.

Instead she focused on Raffaele Petri—so strong and arrogant and utterly in control. She’d bet he’d never felt overwhelmed or insecure. Surprisingly, that worked. Her racing pulse slowed.

‘I chose the best for this project team, with the best skill set. Your short-lived career as a hacker was impressive. It’s a wonder you got off so lightly.’

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I was underage. And I did no damage.’

‘No, just managed to break into one of the best protected and encrypted government databases in the world.’

‘If you hired me to break the law, think again, Signor Petri. I won’t do that for any client.’ She sprang to her feet and paced away.

That was better. At last he read something definite in Lily Nolan. Not just anger but indignation and surely a little fear?

He didn’t want to scare her. But she’d sparred with him for so long he’d begun to wonder what it would take to probe past her control. Even when she was angry she’d been coolly poised, a challenge, a mystery he couldn’t resist prodding.

Not now. Now Raffa saw the woman behind the mask of calm self-sufficiency.

What he saw heightened his interest.

Lily Nolan’s eyes flashed fire as she turned to face him. Her lips moved in what he was sure was an unconscious pout of defiance. A pout any red-blooded man would respond to.

Except he was her boss.

He never harassed his staff.

Besides, he wasn’t into kissing. He’d perfected the art from necessity but never really enjoyed it. It was a tool like any other to get what he wanted.

Raffa stilled, surprised at his blurring thoughts. He didn’t want to kiss Lily Nolan. The idea was farcical.

He wanted to understand her. Label and catalogue her so she no longer took up even a scintilla of his brain space. Then he’d move on to more important things.

Yet now he’d provoked a reaction he wanted more. Contempt welled. Had he turned into what he’d always abhorred? A wealthy man so self-absorbed his only delight was toying with others?

‘You have scruples, Ms Nolan.’

She strode back to stand close, hands on her hips.

‘There are lines I won’t cross, Signor Petri. Breaking the law is one.’

Spoken like a woman who’d never experienced real need. Raffa’s mouth tightened. He knew precisely the depths to which poverty and desperation could drive people.

Or was that the excuse he used to justify his past?

‘Not even for money?’

Those eyes weren’t muddy brown now. They looked almost pure amber, rimmed with honey brown, and they met his with quiet certainty. ‘Not even for money.’

Slowly he nodded. ‘Good. Then presumably you can’t be bought by a competitor to betray confidential information.’

A furrow appeared on her forehead. ‘Was all this some elaborate test of my honesty?’

Raffa shrugged. Easier to let her believe his interest was so straightforward than try to explain something he didn’t understand himself.

If her report was insufficient, he’d have to ignore his prejudice and hire a detective. At least now he wouldn’t be sucked in by nebulous ‘promising leads’ that required just a little more time to produce results.

Years ago, when he’d begun making decent money, he’d spent lavishly on fruitless investigations. Older than his years in most ways, his desperation to find the man responsible for his sister’s death had made him gullible in this one area.

Now he knew better. He didn’t trust investigators.

He didn’t trust anyone.

Raffa pushed his chair back and stood. ‘We’ll meet when you’ve completed your initial report.’

By that time this fascination would have worn off. She’d be just another employee.

Chapter Four

THERE WAS NO SOUND, no disturbance, but suddenly Lily knew she was no longer alone.

Her spine tingled from her scalp to her tailbone. Her skin drew tight and she realised she’d frozen, fingers on the keyboard, waiting.

Slowly she lifted her head.

There he was, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, legs casually crossed at the ankles. The only man whose presence she could sense with unerring accuracy.

Every time.

Even before he looked at her.

Even when he never looked at her.

It was a sixth sense, something primitive, buried so deep in her animal instinct as to be inexplicable. Yet it happened whenever Raffaele Petri got near. Lily was always the first to notice his presence. Her senses were on alert when he was nearby, even if he wasn’t talking to her.

Now he watched her with a heavy-lidded look that made her blood surge.

She’d thought him stunning in the casual trousers and jackets he wore in the office. But in formal clothes... Her eyes widened. He looked like some sinfully gorgeous fallen angel wearing a tuxedo and a lazy half smile. The bow tie loose around his collar added a decadently raffish air.

‘Working late again?’

Lily nodded and cleared her throat. Ridiculous that he had this effect after more than a month, but there was no mistaking the excited pump of her heart or that sudden breathlessness.

It did no good to tell herself millions of other women had the same reaction. Or that she made a fool of herself. All she could do was ensure no one, most especially the man before her, guessed.

‘But obviously not to impress the boss.’ He crossed his arms but Lily kept her eyes on his face, refusing to dwell on the way the gesture emphasised the impressive symmetry of his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped frame.

‘You think not?’ Her voice worked after all.

What she’d give for an interruption! These days other members of staff were in and out of her office regularly. To her surprise, after their initial shock they’d accepted her as one of the team—so different from her other work experiences. Maybe because she’d been so focused on this project she hadn’t had the leisure to stress about their reactions?

Yet a frantic glance through the glass walls told her they were alone. Everyone had gone home long ago.

‘I know not.’ He straightened and, to her alarm, stepped into her office.

‘You’re a mind-reader now too?’ The words blurted out.

‘In addition to what?’ He stopped a couple of paces from her desk, sucking all the oxygen out of her office. ‘No, don’t tell me. I’ll enjoy the challenge of working it out.’

Lily sat back, letting her hands drop to her lap. His words were light, as if he viewed their interactions as some sort of game.

Well, she wasn’t playing.

Especially since his light tone didn’t match that assessing scrutiny.

‘How do you know I’m not trying to impress you with my diligence?’ Better to stick to concrete issues than try to guess what was going on in that brilliant, convoluted mind.

He shrugged, the fluid movement innately Italian.

‘You never look to me for approval. You don’t hang about my office asking questions or showing off your success with what you’ve unearthed about Bradshaw.’

Lily’s mouth twitched, a smile hovering at the implication he’d been impressed. But she was too much on edge to allow her lips to curve up. If she let down her guard with this man, she sensed she might never be able to resurrect it.

No matter how charming he could be, Raffaele Petri was dangerous. He’d forced her here. He’d unleashed a sexual awareness in her that terrified her. Every day and every night he’d loomed in her thoughts, a forbidden temptation when she should have been focusing on work or sleep or anything but mortifyingly sensual imaginings.

‘You see the end results anyway.’ Carefully she laced her fingers together as if relaxed. ‘What would be the point of hanging around your office showing off every little success?’

Those sculpted lips stretched in a smile that tugged a sexy crease down one tanned cheek.

Heat drilled from Lily’s lungs to her belly, cramping her abdominal muscles and stirring sexual arousal, instant and unmistakable.

That was why she needed to be vigilant. Raffaele Petri didn’t just have the power to make or break her. He made her crave things that were impossible.

‘You’re paying for the best.’ It had taken her a long time to develop self-confidence about her work and she refused to play coy about something that meant so much. ‘I’m not so needy I require a pat on the head every time I do well.’

If she’d aimed to deflect his attention she’d erred. Instead of backing off, he surveyed her through narrowed eyes.

‘Sometimes it’s not about a pat on the head,’ he murmured. ‘Sometimes people just want my attention.’

Lily looked up into that bright, deliberate gaze, sifting his words.

Seeking attention.

From him.

Why? As soon as she asked the question she had the answer. Because they were attracted to him. Because they wanted him to notice them, respond to them. Just as a tiny, unstoppable part of her had fantasised he might—

She moved so abruptly her chair slid back from the desk, rolling till it crashed into the wall.

Lily found herself standing, her stomach churning so hard she tasted bile. He’d touched too close to her own secret desires and made them seem all the more pathetic. As if he suspected the attraction she couldn’t quell.

Her right hand lifted in that old, compulsive gesture she’d taken years to vanquish. At the last moment, just before her fingers reached her scarred face, she remembered, forcing it back down, planting both palms on her desk. Her hands were damp against the wood, her throat jammed with distress.

It wasn’t just that Raffaele Petri would never find her attractive. No man would.

She was experienced enough to accept that, after several painful experiences where she’d tentatively reached out to a man and had to endure horrified, embarrassed rejection. Yet some foolish part of her still fantasised.

It wasn’t him she was angry with, but herself.

‘You mean they want you to notice them because they’re attracted to you?’ Her voice was raw, stretched tight.

‘It’s been known to happen.’ Again that fluid shrug, but she was beyond noticing how appealing it was. She was too caught up with the burn of shame and self-consciousness.

‘You’re annoyed I haven’t fallen over myself to get your attention?’ She almost choked on the words. Pride was her only lifeline and she clung to it tenaciously. ‘You do realise there are some people who aren’t bowled over by your beauty, Signor Petri?’ Her tone made it clear she was one of them.

If only that were true! Daily exposure to Raffaele Petri had done nothing to inoculate her against his golden good looks. Instead it had given her a respect for his incisive decision-making and his ability to get the best out of his team. She’d discerned fairness and even a self-deprecating humour she found far too appealing.

The sound of laughter sliced her thoughts. Rich and warm, it encircled her like a caress. There was nothing calculated about it, or about his expression, and Lily had the impression that for a moment she saw Raffaele Petri as few did. For, despite his approachability to his staff, he usually exuded a sense of being utterly self-contained.

‘You’re absolutely right, Lily.’ Her pulse gave a throb of pleasure at the sound of her name in that deep, lush voice. ‘And an antidote to my overblown ego. Not everyone finds me attractive. It’s good to know you’re one of them. It makes working together much simpler.’

Lily breathed out slowly. Had she really fooled him? Maybe all those years masking her feelings and learning not to show vulnerability had stood her in good stead.

‘What is it you want from me?’ He hadn’t singled her out again since her first day in the office, yet she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling he noticed her almost as much as she did him. That he was aware of her, even when his attention was on something else. Not that he was attracted to her, of course, just assessing.

‘Honestly?’ Eyes of searing blue met hers and heat feathered her skin. ‘I find you...interesting. Different.’

She snorted. This time she didn’t stop her hand as it rose to her face. But, instead of touching scarred flesh, she deliberately pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, revealing the whole marred side of her face.

Her chin angled higher as her gaze challenged his, defiant. ‘Oh, I’m definitely different.’

‘You think I’m talking about looks?’ His eyebrows flattened in something close to a scowl.

It was her turn to shrug stiff shoulders. The movement had none of his beautiful fluidity. ‘What else?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ For a moment he looked almost perplexed. ‘But it’s got nothing to do with the way you look.’

Lily didn’t know whether to be relieved or ridiculously hurt.

‘Perhaps it’s because I don’t beat a path to your door.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘If you had your way we’d be a hemisphere apart.’

Lily crossed her arms, projecting an ease she didn’t feel. ‘You’re too used to people chasing you.’

‘You think this is about ego?’ He paused as if considering. ‘Perhaps. But it’s more too. I like the lateral way you think. The combination of solid, thorough research and inspired leaps of imagination. I saw it in your report on the Tahitian project and the ones since.’

Lily felt her strain ease, her muscles loosening. Professional accolades she’d accept gratefully. It was when they veered off work that discomfort grabbed her.

‘I like that you’re not afraid to voice your opinions.’

‘I don’t see any yes-men on your team.’

‘Ah, but you take your independence to a fascinating new level. It’s obviously a point of honour.’

‘There’s nothing special about me, Signor Petri. I’m merely a professional, used to being self-employed rather than having a boss.’

For too long he regarded her with that steady gaze she suspected saw too much.

‘Maybe you’re right.’ He lifted his hands, closing the collar of his formal shirt then deftly tying the black satin bow tie.

Lily watched, fascinated to realise such a process could be so enthralling. Not just the fact he managed a bow tie with impressive ease and without a mirror, but that the action should be almost...arousing.

‘Lily?’

She blinked. ‘Yes?’

‘I asked if it’s straight.’

‘Almost, just at a slight angle.’

‘This way?’ He twitched the black silk and she shook her head. ‘Well?’ An expressive eyebrow lifted. ‘Can you help?’

She looked at the tie, askew against snowy linen and golden flesh, and felt something drop in her belly. She didn’t want to touch Raffaele Petri. She didn’t want to go near him.

But refusing wasn’t an option. Briskly she stepped around the desk. She was close enough to inhale his signature scent of rich spices and warm male skin. That warmth enveloped her as she reached out and twitched his bow tie into place.

‘There.’ She kept her gaze fixed below his chin, ignoring her wobbly knees and the curious hollow sensation in her chest as if someone had scooped out all the air. ‘Enjoy your evening out.’ Then she turned back to her seat and her work.

It was only eleven-thirty when Raffa got home. Tonight’s function had been more cloying than usual. His companion had pretended there was more to their night out than the mutual convenience of being seen with a suitable partner.

He strode through the living room, not bothering with lights. Moonlight streaming in made it easy to see the single bottle on the bar. Moments later he tossed back a mouthful of grappa, its heat punching through his impatience.

He was sick of the posturing and pretence, being part of the same well-heeled crew trying so hard to enjoy themselves. But he’d hoped to see Robert Bradshaw so he’d forced himself, pretending he gave a damn for ‘society.’

Since he’d identified the man responsible for Gabriella’s death he itched to bring him down. He had no hope of proving Bradshaw’s guilt in court after all this time, but he’d see the man who’d seduced and discarded his sister utterly ruined.

But Bradshaw hadn’t been there, probably nervous about facing so many creditors. Given the information Lily had unearthed, Raffa suspected he’d gone to ground on his private island, the one his family had owned since they’d traded in slaves and sugar. His homes in London and Cannes had been sold to pay debts and the New York apartment was next. No doubt he was licking his wounds, scheming how to recoup the fortune he’d inherited and squandered.

Raffa’s fingers tightened on his glass as anticipation rose. It was time to take the game to Bradshaw. The decision lightened Raffa’s mood. He’d grind Bradshaw into the dirt and enjoy every moment.

Discarding tie, shoes and socks, then yanking the top buttons of his shirt undone, he slid open the door to his roof terrace and stepped out. Raffa turned his face to the light breeze and stalled mid-step.

He wasn’t alone.

Someone sat on a sun lounger by the pool. Someone staring not at the garden, or the Manhattan view, but the glowing screen of a laptop.

What was she doing here?

It had to be Lily Nolan. No one could get past security to his private space, except the woman in his guest suite. The woman who drew the curtains as soon as she got in each night to shut herself off. He’d wondered if she was agoraphobic. That might have explained her reluctance to come to New York. But here she was, with the city laid out before her, relaxed as if her eyrie position didn’t bother her in the least.

So it wasn’t the view she’d been shutting out, but him—her only neighbour on the penthouse level.

Intriguing.

A now familiar trickle of heat spilled through his veins. A sensation he felt whenever Lily Nolan interrupted his thoughts. He still hadn’t found a name for it. Not arousal or excitement. Nor mere curiosity. More a charged awareness, as if he waited for...