The Virgin's Secret

‘If I’d known casual was okay I would have worn jeans too,’ she said stiffly, her gaze resolutely fixed on the view of Athens spread out below them. Not even that spectacular vista could distract her from the man beside her.

‘I like to be casual at home, Angel, so here you can wear what you want…even go naked if you wish,’ he finished softly.

Angel coloured even more at his mocking tone, wondering what on earth he saw in her. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Pity.’

She heard him pour some wine into a glass, and then he was offering it to her. She took it—anything to try and give her some courage.

‘What do you think of the view—it’s amazing, no?’

Angel snuck a quick look up; Leo was staring out, his profile to her, showing that he had a slight bump in his nose, and she could see the faint raised line of the scar over his lip. Hurriedly she looked back, afraid to be caught staring.

‘Yes, it’s truly beautiful.’ Amidst everything, she thought of something else, and looked at her watch to check the time. ‘Actually, any minute now…yes, there. Look—’ Angel lifted her hand to point to where the evening lights were coming on to illuminate the Acropolis, far below in the distance.

She heard Leo’s intake of breath and couldn’t look at him, for some reason afraid of what she might see. It was always a magical sight, and one that took her breath away too. Was it having the same effect on him? She felt a lurch to think that she’d grown up seeing it as an everyday occurrence but he hadn’t.

‘I’ve seen the lights before, but never the moment when they come on like that.’

Angel murmured something inarticulate feeling unaccountably guilty. She turned with more than a little relief when the housekeeper bustled in with their food, and Leo turned too, indicating for her to precede him to the table.

Leo watched Angel walk in front of him, took in the glossy hair tied back in a low, careless bun, the long, elegant neck. And looked down to where her bare legs were slender, yet shapely enough to make his heart kick and his pulse throb.

Her palpable air of nervousness had caught him unawares as she’d stood beside him. He had to question why she was feigning it now, when they both knew where they stood. She’d been nervous before, in the study, but that had no doubt been because she’d no idea how he’d react to catching her red-handed.

He’d certainly not been prepared to have her point out a sight she must have seen a thousand times before, which must be wholly unremarkable to her but had taken his breath away, seeing it for the first time. In any other instance he would have considered it a sweetly considerate gesture.

She wasn’t acting the way he’d imagined she’d act in this situation. He’d expected a certain initial belligerence, or even defiance at having been caught and manipulated so spectacularly. Or he’d imagined that she’d want to make the most of the situation and take advantage of becoming his mistress. Leo had yet to meet a woman who didn’t see the advantage in becoming his mistress, so for her to be feigning this nervous skittishness was going to get her nowhere fast.

They sat down. Leo looked at Angel darkly, but she was avoiding his eyes. Straightening her cutlery, her napkin. She was up to something. She had to be. Trying to disarm him for some reason. He reminded himself that she’d been home earlier, and of course she must have taken advice from her father. Leo cursed himself. The fact that he didn’t trust Angel was not in question, so why was he trying to decipher her behaviour? The only behaviour that concerned him was her good behaviour as his mistress, on his arm and in his bed. Anything above and beyond that was of no interest to him.

Angel was doing her best to eat the deliciously prepared dinner, but it tasted like sawdust in her mouth. All she could see, all she could think about, was the man eating his dinner at the head of the table to her left. Her eyes kept being drawn to his hands, how powerful they looked. The tension mounted and mounted, especially when she thought of those hands in other places. On her.

Leo, however, seemed happy to concentrate on his food. Angel had countless questions bubbling on her lips: did he expect to sleep with her tonight? What would he do when he discovered how inexperienced she was? Would he reject her outright, as Achilles had? And why did that thought hurt so much? Why was she so consumed with him when he was all but blackmailing her into his bed?

Angel had never felt more confused, and very, very vulnerable. The silence, she was sure, was Leo’s way of unsettling her, reminding her she was here for just one purpose. A purpose she was woefully ill prepared for. He wasn’t even attempting small talk. When she felt something brush against her bare legs under the table she let out a startled cry, and dropped her knife to the floor with a clatter.

Just then the housekeeper came back in—Leo had introduced her to Angel earlier as Calista—and Angel saw that it had just been a cat. Her cat. After profuse apologies, and her knife being replaced, they were alone in the room again.

Leo put down his knife and fork and Angel jumped minutely.

‘Why so tense, Angel?’

She looked warily at Leo. His eyes were dark, like mysterious pools. He was all hard angles and shadows. A dark line shadowed his jaw after a day’s growth.

‘I…’ She couldn’t articulate a word. Something dense was in the air around them all of a sudden, something tangible and electric. Was this desire?

‘No appetite?’ he asked then innocuously, with a raised brow.

Angel just shook her head and watched, dry-mouthed, as his gaze fixated on her mouth. It tingled. God, why couldn’t she be immune to him and stand up in disgust and tell him if he touched her she’d call the police? Because then he’d probably call the police himself, send her away, and Delphi and Stavros would be back to square one. Worse, with the ensuing media storm.

However, those very good reasons aside, with the heavy weight of inevitability, the real reason sank into her head: she wanted him to touch her. The truth was shocking when she acknowledged it. Despite everything, she wanted him to touch her. Had done from the moment she’d seen him emerge from the pool…and from the moment he’d kissed her on the terrace. Since that night she’d had dreams, when she’d woken in sweaty tangled sheets, aching… And it killed her to admit it. Especially when she’d all but written sex off after her first experience.

Her hormones had turned traitor and were in league with this man.

Leo suddenly pushed his plate away and stood up, towering over her. His eyes glittered with a dark promise. A muscle popped in his jaw. ‘I find that my appetite for food has gone, too.’

There was something rough in his voice that resonated deep within her. When he held out a hand, Angel hesitated for a second before putting her hand in his. She told herself this was just part of the agreement. She was securing Delphi’s freedom and happiness. He wasn’t throwing her to the police with accusations of theft. All she had to do…all she had to do… She stumbled as Leo led her from the room. They encountered Calista on the way, and Leo explained in rapid Greek that they were both tired and going to bed.