The Billionaire's Virgin Box Set

‘You spent the day shopping,’ he reminded her, his eyes amused. ‘I’ll tell Maria to make dinner an extra-special occasion, so that you can have an excuse to wear whatever it is that you bought.’

‘I didn’t buy anything.’

He lifted a brow in sardonic appraisal. ‘You spent an entire day shopping and you didn’t buy anything? How is that possible?’

‘I wasn’t shopping.’ Deciding that the sooner they sorted everything out the sooner her principles would be satisfied, and they could do what they were both longing to do, Chantal dug her hand into her bag and pulled out an envelope. ‘Here. This is for you.’ She pushed it into his hand and he looked at her quizzically, before flipping open the envelope with a lean finger and examining the contents.

‘Not again!’ A flash of exasperation in his eyes, he fingered the notes and looked at her with a total lack of comprehension. ‘Why are you giving me money this time?’

‘It’s for my food, expenses—w-whatever you want to call it,’ Chantal stammered. ‘And please don’t argue, because I really want you to take it. Actually, I insist on it. I mean, when I was here because of your father it didn’t matter so much because I was here for a reason. But now that we’ve had—now that our relationship has changed—and it’s—I can’t have sex without paying you…’ Aware that her words were spilling out in the wrong order, she let her voice trail off. She waited for him to give a nod of understanding, but his only response was a long, incredulous silence.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he spoke. ‘You’re paying me for sex?’

‘No!’ Flustered, she shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

‘You said that you can’t have sex without paying me.’

‘I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.’

‘But you’re giving me money?’

‘Because I don’t want you subsidising me.’

‘You are making no sense whatsoever.’

That was probably true. It was almost impossible to make sense or sound even vaguely coherent when he was sitting so close to her and the dark hairs on his thigh were brushing against the sensitive skin of her leg. He was everything male and all she could think of was—‘After what happened yesterday—last night—I have to pay you something towards my food.’

He dropped the envelope onto her lap. ‘When you said that there was something important that we needed to talk about, I assumed you meant contraception.’

‘This is important. If you don’t take the money then I’ll feel as though you’re keeping me, and I don’t want that.’

He stared at her. ‘That’s what most women dream about. Finding a rich man to indulge them.’

‘Well, it isn’t what I dream about. It isn’t what I want and as far as I’m concerned the only way we can continue this relationship is if you let me pay for my keep.’

‘Forget it.’ His tone was clipped and the heated atmosphere cooled considerably. ‘I don’t want your money.’

‘Why not?’ Genuinely astonished by his reaction, it was her turn to stare. ‘You hate it when women are only interested in you for your money.’

‘But you’re not interested in me for my money, are you?’ He rose to his feet with the effortless grace of a panther. ‘You didn’t even know who I was when we first met.’

‘I know who you are now.’

‘But any benefit you’ve derived from my wealth has been a by-product of our relationship, not the cause of it. There’s a subtle distinction.’

‘Is there? Well, it’s too subtle for me to understand,’ she mumbled. ‘As far as I’m concerned I want to make a financial contribution. I have to. Why should you pay for what I’m eating? I don’t understand your problem. It should

make you feel good, knowing that I’m with you because I want to be with you, not because of the money or the lifestyle.’ And it was necessary for her. Dark feelings tangled with her newfound happiness.

‘Taking money from you would not make me feel good. If you want to know what will make me feel good then come with me now and I’ll show you.’ He reached out a hand and hauled her to her feet. As his arms came round her waist she turned her head away, using every drop of will power at her disposal.

‘I can’t do that.’ The temptation to just turn her head and kiss him was agonising. ‘Not if you won’t let me pay anything towards the cost of staying here.’ She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek and the friction of his body against hers: hard muscle and rough male skin against her own soft flesh.

‘You’re saying no? You’re refusing me? You’re pretending you don’t want this?’ His voice was a soft, masculine purr and she gave a low moan of denial as she felt the warm pressure of his hand against the bare flesh of her back. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth and her head swam and her eyes drifted shut.

‘I’m saying no,’ she whispered, ‘unless you take the money. Take the money, Angelos.’

He muttered something in Greek and released her, tension visible in every muscle of his powerful frame. ‘I will not let you pay.’