A Diamond Deal With the Greek

One corner of his mouth lifted in a shadowed sneer. ‘Consider this another minor modification. Skin-tight leather hot pants and see-through tops have their place somewhere on the fashion landscape, I’m sure. My PA will furnish you with a reputable stylist’s details. Make use of it.’

‘Wow. Do you make a habit of issuing orders like a drill sergeant or am I just special?’

‘It seems to be the only way I can get through to you.’

‘Really? I don’t recall getting the honey treatment, just the rancid-vinegar one.’

He crossed the floor to stand before her. Rebel watched, heart leaping to her throat as he raised his hand. His thumb traced her lower lip as it had done in his office. Except this touch was slower. Deadlier in its intensity.

‘You’ll get the honey when you deserve it. In the meantime, I’ll leave you to practise giving me the honey. We’re dining out tomorrow night. Make sure you bring your A-game. Remember what’s at stake here, Arabella. Fail me and all bets are off.’

She was still slumped against the windowsill when he walked out. Even the firm click of her front door didn’t rouse her from the fevered daze rushing over her.

Rebel had no idea of when she finally moved, although she managed a quick call to Contessa begging off her manager’s visit, and also to inform her of the change of travel plans. Then she returned her clothes and skis to their rightful place, and made herself a cup of light cocoa.

It was another treat her trainer would no doubt chastise her for, but cocoa had always helped her sleep better. And she needed to sleep.

She needed the escape of slumber to help her not think about Draco Angelis. She needed to not think about honey or sinful caresses or A-games. Or the dark hunger veiled behind his censure and bitterness.

For one thing, the danger that accompanied the man held a mesmeric quality that spelled doom for any self-preserving creature.

For another, Rebel had always been recklessly attracted to danger.

CHAPTER SIX

THE FLOWERS ARRIVED at eight a.m., just as she was donning her gym gear. Greg, her trainer, who’d arrived at her door five minutes earlier for their run to the gym, raised an eyebrow as he walked in with an armful of the most exquisite arrangement of calla lilies Rebel had ever seen.

Besides the flowers, the black sculptured vase holding the stems was equally breathtaking.

Greg whistled as he set it on her small dining table. ‘Flowers from Gilla Rosa. Someone’s all out to get your attention.’

Rebel, still taking in the stunning delivery from the florist who only catered to A-list celebrities, attempted a smile. ‘I guess so.’ Spotting a card, she plucked it, her nerves jangling alarmingly as she opened it.

Château Dessida.

Eight o’clock tonight.

Can’t wait.

D

‘Château Dessida, huh? I thought you weren’t dating anyone?’ She started as Greg moved away from where he’d been reading the card over her shoulder.

As her trainer, he was one of a few people who knew how dedicated she was to making the championships. He also knew her occasional outings to nightclubs were coping mechanisms so didn’t give her grief about it.

About to confirm that she wasn’t actually dating, Rebel bit her lip. There were twelve hours before she had to begin her performance as Draco Angelis’ fiancée, but it seemed her acting debut was about to commence. ‘I wasn’t...until fairly recently.’ She dropped the card on the table and propped her foot on a dining chair to finish lacing her trainers. Then she went through her stretching routine.

The six-foot ex–body builder eyed her. ‘Don’t mean to judge but—is it wise getting involved with anyone so close to the championships?’

Rebel tossed out a laugh that was a million miles from genuine. ‘Probably not, but isn’t there a cliché about not being able to help who you fall for?’

His dark blond brows spiked. ‘It’s that serious already?’ The brotherly concern in his eyes made her feel a heel for the subterfuge, but Rebel forced herself to remember why she was doing this.

‘Cliché number two—I guess when you know, you know?’ She grabbed her water bottle and tucked her phone and keys into her pockets.

Greg glanced at the flowers before he followed her out of the door. ‘Here are a few more—hard work is its own reward. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. So don’t take your eye off the ball.’

Rebel rolled her eyes, but kept the smile pinned on her face. ‘As if there’s any chance you’ll let me. Besides, you never know. True love might be the extra-special ingredient I need to win this thing.’