‘He won’t be hurt. He’ll be thrilled.’
‘Thrilled that you lied to him?’
‘When have I lied to him?’ His tone was smooth and he lifted a hand and stroked a strand of hair away from her eyes. ‘He believed that we were together.’
‘But—’
‘And we are together.’
What exactly did he mean by that? Confused, it took her a moment to speak. ‘What are you saying?’
‘That it doesn’t end here. Did you really think I’d let you go?’ He was so close now that she could feel the heat from his body, and desire curled low in her pelvis.
Her heartbeat was suddenly uneven. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? When we leave the island, you will come with me.’
His words were so unexpected that her heart stopped altogether. ‘Where to?’
‘Wherever I go.’ Supremely confident of her response, he looked at her expectantly and her breath caught.
Why not?
He wanted her. And she wanted him. For a moment excitement flared inside her, but it was almost immediately doused. She couldn’t accept, could she? How could she possibly accept? ‘Would I be able to work?’
Astonishment shimmered in his eyes. ‘Why would you want to?’
‘I’ve already made that clear.’
‘I travel a great deal. Naturally you would travel with me. So the answer is no, you would not be able to work.’
She stilled, a feeling of numbness growing inside her. ‘So I’d be your kept woman?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You would be my lover. My companion. You can chose the title yourself.’
‘I can’t afford to be with you,’ she said simply. ‘Your lifestyle is too expensive. It’s all private jets and fast cars and top restaurants. What I earn in a week wouldn’t even cover your phone bill.’
‘I am not expecting you to pay for anything. I don’t want you to pay for anything. I will provide everything you need.’
‘So what will that make me? A prostitute with one employer?’
A stunned silence followed her outburst and then he grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip and propelled her across the balcony, through the crowded ballroom and out again into the street.
As usual everyone seemed to anticipate his wishes before he’d even expressed himself, and moments later his car purred to a halt in front of them.
For a moment Angelos just stood there, and Chantal glanced at his rigid profile.
He was angry. So angry. Every inch of his powerful frame vibrated with emotion and she sighed.
‘Angelos—’
‘Get in,’ he ground out fi
nally. ‘Get in or so help me I’ll put you in the car myself—and then you’ll know the meaning of gossip.’
She glanced over her shoulder and realised that their rapid exit had drawn attention.
‘We really—’