The Virgin's Secret

‘I’ll have a stylist come to consult with you tomorrow, and sort out a full wardrobe. We can’t have you looking anything less than a bought woman from now on, can we?’

Angel caught a flash of the huge bed she’d been ignoring in her peripheral vision and it scared her silly, making her say flippantly, ‘Knock yourself out. Fill that wardrobe and I’ll be only too happy to act out the part.’

He pushed himself off the door, coming close enough to have Angel’s panic and pulse zoom skywards. He smiled lazily. Cynically.

‘I don’t think it’ll take too much acting. Your Skittishness is intriguing me. I would have expected you to be ecstatic that I’ve chosen you as my mistress. You forget that I come from New York…the natural habitat of the mercenary, gold-digging socialite. Your black soul won’t surprise me, really.’

Angel searched for words, but to her chagrin couldn’t get them out in time. To her consternation, Leo merely looked at his watch then, and said crisply, ‘I have to go to the office. Why don’t you get some rest? You look tired.’

And then he was gone, and she was alone. Angel walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t just look tired. She looked shell-shocked. Feeling incredibly weary, and more than a little numb, she stripped off and stood under a steaming hot shower for a long time.

And then she got out, dried her hair, shut the curtains, crawled into the softest bed she’d ever felt, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The first thing Angel knew was a gentle rocking. And then a voice. A deep, soulful voice that she found herself instinctively turning to. She smiled. The rocking became more forceful, and so did the voice.

‘Angel.’

She wasn’t dreaming. In an instant she was awake. Wide awake. Looking up with big eyes at Leonidas Parnassus, who was far too close to her, sitting on the bed, his face inscrutable. It all rushed back. She wasn’t in her own bed; she was in his home and had agreed to become his mistress.

Angel grabbed for the sheet and pulled it up, even though she was dressed in pants and a vest. She scrabbled back as far as she could go, away from him. She felt exposed at having been caught sleeping. How long had he been there?

Leo stood up from the bed and Angel asked huskily, ‘What time is it?’

He consulted his watch. ‘It’s 8:00 p.m.’

Angel sat up in shock, still holding the sheet. ‘I’ve been asleep all day?’

Leo nodded and went over to pull the curtains back, so Angel could see the sun starting to set in the sky. She felt completely disorientated—jet-lagged, almost. Leo started to walk out of the room, barely glancing at Angel now. ‘Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

While he waited for Angel, Leo stood at the huge French windows of the less formal dining room. The doors were opened out onto the terrace—the same terrace he’d brought Angel out to on the night of the party. He could scarcely fathom that he’d been in Athens for barely twenty-four hours and already had Angel in his home. Yet bizarrely it felt right.

Just now, when he’d woken her, he’d seen something that had reminded him of that first evening they’d met. For a moment before she’d woken she’d almost turned to him, with a soft smile around her mouth, and that enticing beauty spot at the corner of her lip had made him want to bend down and kiss it. Made him want to do so much more. When she’d opened her eyes, though, he’d noticed slight shadows still lingering.

Her hair had been sleep-mussed, tangled over one bare shoulder, where the strap of her vest had fallen down. She’d looked incredibly sexy, yet unbelievably vulnerable, and he had felt a niggle of unease at how quickly things had progressed from him finding her creeping through the villa. He’d pushed the unease aside. Even those three hours waiting for her to return had been torturous. He’d actually been nervous that she wouldn’t return. That, despite everything he had on her, she would defy him. Leo noticed his hands had gone into fists now, just thinking about it. He forced them to uncurl.

He thought of how she’d looked when she’d returned, with shadows like bruises under her eyes…

She’d come into his family home to steal from them.

With more effort than he liked to admit, Leo pushed down the concern. A tight coil of desire held him in its grip. Tonight he’d have her, and he’d no doubt that within a very short space of time she’d prove to be as dismayingly predictable as every other woman he’d ever met, ultimately using emotion arising from intimacy, thinking that she could manipulate him.

He heard a noise at the door and turned around slowly. It was time for Angel to face the consequences of her actions.

Angel’s skin prickled when she was shown into a dining room by a smiling housekeeper and saw Leo standing with his back to her. The windows were open and the curtains fluttered on the breeze. She had no idea how to act in this situation. No idea what was expected of her. She felt acutely lonely all of a sudden.

Leo turned around slowly, and the impact on her senses was nothing short of cataclysmic. She’d not really noticed what he was wearing in her room; she’d been too shocked and groggy. But now she saw that he was dressed in a pair of lovingly worn and faded jeans, which clung to him like a second skin. The material stretched over powerful thighs and long, long legs.

A black polo shirt made the brown of his eyes seem even darker, his skin seem even more olive. His shoulders were almost too broad for the material, and huge biceps bulged from beneath the short sleeves.

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‘Come and see the view, Angel.’

I’m already looking at it, she felt like blurting out slightly hysterically.

Knowing she was in a situation she couldn’t get out of, her fate sealed by her own stupidly impetuous actions and her wanting to make everything all right for Delphi, Angel walked over to Leo, very self-conscious in her plain black shift dress. Hair pulled back. She coloured when she saw his gaze drop. She’d viewed him on Google him in a moment of weakness and seen exactly the kind of woman he went for: invariably tall, blonde, soignée. Experienced. A million miles from herself.

‘Very demure,’ he murmured when she came close.