The Billionaire's Virgin Box Set

But she already knew that their lives were as different as it was possible to be. He had wealth and he had family. She had neither. And as for possessions—

She turned and glanced at her one small case, which now stood in the middle of the room. It was a forlorn reminder of the fundamental differences in their lives.

What was she doing here?

Maria was watching her, her expression sympathetic, as i

f she sensed Chantal’s growing misery.

‘I will help you unpack,’ she volunteered, but Chantal shook her head vigorously, her face burning with embarrassment at the thought of this woman seeing her lack of belongings.

She waited for Maria to leave, then opened the case herself and stared at the few outfits she’d brought with her.

Two dresses, a skirt, a pair of shorts, a few cheap tops and a swimming costume.

That was it. Nothing glamorous. Nothing that suited a few hedonistic weeks with a billionaire.

She didn’t belong here.

What arrogance had made her think her presence would have any effect on his father’s recovery? It was inevitable that Costas Zouvelekis would discover that their relationship wasn’t real and once he discovered the truth everything would be worse.

She should never have come.

And she should never have used that ticket to the ball.

Pretending was one thing; actually trying to live a life that wasn’t hers was dangerous and delusional.

But what could she do? For the time being, at least, she was trapped here and she had to make the best of it.

She fingered one of the dresses, wondering whether she could adapt it in some way. Or perhaps she didn’t need to. Angelos had said that there was no dressing up on the island, so hopefully what she’d brought with her would be fine. She just had a sinking feeling that her idea of simple and his weren’t going to coincide.

Hot and uncomfortable after her journey, she was just contemplating a shower when a faint breeze blew through the window. Walking across to the open doors, Chantal stared at the pool glistening in the afternoon sunlight. The water looked cool and inviting, and she couldn’t think of a reason why she shouldn’t swim.

Angelos was working and Costas was resting, so no one would be watching her. And by the time Angelos returned from making his next million she would be back in her room.

In fact, if she was very clever, it might be possible to avoid him for the entire fortnight. If Angelos worked during the day then their paths would only cross at mealtimes.

* * *

Angelos completed the last of his phone calls and ran a hand over his face in mounting frustration.

It was clear that his presence was needed in Athens. Ordinarily he would have taken a helicopter back to the city for a few days, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving until he was satisfied that his father was making a good recovery. Nor did he want to leave the older man with a woman less than half his age—especially when the woman in question fulfilled his father’s definition of female perfection and was known to favour older men.

Just thinking about her made his stress levels soar to dangerous heights and he rose to his feet with a soft curse, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension that had been mounting since he’d picked her up from the streets of Paris.

His body was humming with unfulfilled desire and he suppressed it ruthlessly.

What he needed was exercise: a hard, demanding physical workout that would use up some of his excess energy and take his mind off his ravenous libido. A hundred laps of the pool would be nowhere near as mentally and physically invigorating as truly satisfying sex, but it was the only thing on offer so it would have to do.

He flicked off the computer, found a pair of swimming shorts and strolled out onto the terrace, flexing the muscles of his shoulders in readiness.

So focused was he on his own needs that he felt a flare of irritation when he heard a soft splash coming from the pool and realised that someone else had shared his idea.

It couldn’t be his father, because he was resting, which meant that it could only be the one person he’d been hoping to avoid.

His first reaction was to acknowledge that she was a remarkably good swimmer. Accustomed to women who preferred to pose by the edge of the pool rather than actually expose themselves to the realities of getting wet, he watched for a moment, surprised by her skill. She slid through the water with the fluid grace of a sea creature and Angelos was gripped by an attack of lust so powerful that it shocked him.

Also accustomed to being with women whose choice of swimwear could only be described as minimal, he couldn’t immediately understand why a plain black swimming costume, clearly designed for sport rather than seduction, could have had such a powerful effect on him. A few minutes of studied concentration gave him the answer. His reaction had nothing to do with the swimming costume itself and everything to do with the woman wearing it.