Sale or Return Bride

‘Ariadne.’ Sebastien rose to his feet and kissed the woman on both cheeks. ‘You’ve surpassed yourself. I predict a massive success.’

The woman threw a satisfied glance at the heaving dance floor. ‘Captivating, isn’t it? And stylish. We’re already having to restrict membership.’ Her slim fingers curled possessively over his forearm, the scarlet nails gleaming like a warning. ‘I’m glad you came. I reserved you the best table.’

Sebastien’s gaze fastened on those reddened lips and he smiled. ‘Thanks.’

‘I really need the benefit of your business brain.’ Ariadne slid into the vacant seat next to him, not glancing once in Alesia’s direction. ‘We’ve come up against a couple of problems and I might need you to use your influence—’ Ariadne’s voice lowered and she leaned closer to Sebastien, her hand snaking around his strong neck, drawing his head towards her reddened lips ostensibly so that she could keep the conversation private.

Watching this interaction with frowning dismay, Alesia felt her newly discovered happiness drain out of her. It was quite clear that his relationship with this woman was far more intimate than simple friendship. Was she one of his mistresses? And, if so, past or current? The thought that he’d shared with other women what he’d shared with her made her feel physically ill. If she needed any more evidence that to him it was just sex then she had it now.

And, to make matters worse, the woman hadn’t even glanced in her direction. It was as if she didn’t exist.

Feeling as miserable as she had been happy only moments earlier, Alesia reached for the drink that had been placed by her hand and took several large mouthfuls.

She sat and drank, waiting to be included in the conversation, waiting for Sebastien to introduce her, but he lounged easily in the chair, his handsome face giving nothing away as he listened attentively to the woman who was all but wrapped around him in an attempt to exclude Alesia.

She couldn’t help being aware of the curious stares being cast in her direction. It was hardly surprising that people were looking, she thought gloomily. They were supposed to be newly married and yet Sebastien had clearly forgotten her existence.

Ignored and abandoned, Alesia felt her temper begin to rise as she finished her drink.

Why should she sit there pretending to be invisible?

Too disgusted to watch them any longer and feeling unaccountably light-headed, she fixed her gaze back on the dance floor, feeling a stab of envy as she watched the dancing. On the dance floor she’d had fun. She’d lost herself in the moment. So why shouldn’t she do so again? She held her breath, checking out the number of women dancing alone. There were plenty.

So why shouldn’t she join them?

Without so much as a glance towards her companions, Alesia lifted her chin and stood up, clutching at the table for a moment to gain her balance and then walking purposefully on to the dance floor, looking neither left or right. If anyone was staring, she didn’t want to know.

Once again the music slid into her soul and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, feeling the rhythm flow over her and letting her body move in time. She spun and gyrated, her hair flying across her face, her arms above her head, her hips swaying.

After several minutes a tall blonde man joined her and it was so much fun to be dancing with someone again that she just smiled and matched her movements to his. Nothing mattered, she thought happily, except having fun right now.

She lowered her eyelashes in mute invitation, spun closer and then felt hard fingers digging into her shoulder, hauling her back in a gesture of pure masculine possession. Caught off balance, she staggered and would have collapsed in a heap had not she been held firmly against rock-solid muscle. Dizzily she glanced upwards and clashed with stormy dark eyes shimmering with barely restrained anger. Keeping her clamped against him in an iron grip, Sebastien spoke in Greek to her dance partner and, although Alesia didn’t understand a word of what he said, there was no misunderstanding his icy tone or the barely veiled threat in those midnight-black eyes. She frowned as the blond man cast a nervous glance at the width of Sebastien’s shoulders and melted back into the crowd.

‘What a wimp—’ Alesia muttered with disdain. ‘He might at least have stayed to finish the dance.’

‘He had more sense,’ Sebastien observed harshly, all the volatility of his Mediterranean heritage revealed in his glittering dark gaze. ‘Which is more than can be said for you. We are in a public place and you are not supposed to be part of the entertainment. If you want to dance then you dance with me.’

She glared at him and tried to pull away. ‘You were busy.’