A Diamond Deal With the Greek

She was waiting on the kerb by the time Draco drove up in a gleaming black sports car. Pulling the door open, she slid into the soft leather bucket seat. And immediately clocked his tight-jawed irritation.

‘Are you in the habit of hanging out on street corners waiting for your dates?’

She took her time to secure her seat belt, which didn’t go as smoothly as she wanted because her every cell had grown hyperaware of the powerful and arresting man behind the wheel. He’d swapped yesterday’s three-piece suit for a darker set, minus the waistcoat and tie. With the light grey shirt unbuttoned at the neck, she glimpsed a few wisps of dark silky hair that had her quickly averting her gaze.

Once she got the belt’s metal housing to click, she drew a breath. Then wished she hadn’t when his clean, spicy aftershave attacked her senses. Draco smelling good enough to devour wasn’t a thought she intended to dwell on. ‘I only came down to save you time. Please don’t tell me I’ve offended your gentlemanly sensibilities?’

His mouth pursed. ‘I’d prefer our association not to begin with hints of impropriety.’

‘I was standing outside my flat, Draco, not in a red-light part of town.’

He pulled up to a red light

and locked cool grey eyes on her. ‘It wouldn’t have been too much trouble for me to walk to your door.’

Rebel wasn’t sure why his solicitous remark robbed her of breath. Competing in a high-octane sport meant ladylike sensibilities were often mocked. She’d trained herself a long time ago to be one of the boys or risk acquiring a sneering nickname. She’d thought herself immune to needing gentle consideration. And yet the thought of Draco treating her with the tiniest deference caused a lump to rise in her throat. Her father had worshipped her mother that way, bending over backwards to grant her smallest wish.

Her mother had grumbled, but she’d always done so with a teasing smile. The memory thickened the lump in her throat, even as the acute lance of pain pierced her heart.

Struggling to retain her composure under Draco’s intense stare, she cleared her throat. ‘Noted. I’ll do better next time.’

Surprise lit his eyes, but he turned away without response as the light turned green. The rest of the short journey passed in silence.

Château Dessida, located in a side street off the King’s Road, was tiny and extremely exclusive. It was renowned for its French fusion-themed dishes, the three-Michelin-starred chef who ran the kitchen rumoured to personally select which customers patronised his establishment. He also reserved the right to publicise who dined in his restaurant, with famous photos making his millions-strong social-media following green with envy.

Draco tossed his car keys to the waiting valet and guided her through the canopied doorway.

‘It’s show time,’ he murmured in her ear.

Before she could grasp his meaning, he pulled her close and settled a hand over her hip. Despite the layers of clothing separating them, Rebel felt his touch as keenly as if he’d branded her bare skin with a hot iron. Biting back a gasp, she stumbled. Draco’s other hand shot out to grasp her waist.

‘Steady, agapita. You okay?’

Held immobile, she stared up at him, then grew dizzy all over again as his mouth stretched in a dazzling, captivating smile. Rebel knew she was gaping, but for the life of her she couldn’t look away from the stunning transformation on Draco’s face. Gone was the fire-breathing ogre who seemed to find fault with every word that spilled from her lips.

In his place was an Adonis who oozed charm and attentiveness as the hand on her hip rotated in a slow caress and his other hand gripped her tighter.

‘Arabella? Baby, are you okay?’

Absurdly, it was the combination of her name and the endearment that tossed her out of her stupor. Sucking in a long, restorative breath, she summoned a bare-toothed dazzler of her own. Leaning closer, she tiptoed her fingers up his chest.

‘Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, baby?’ she remarked through clenched teeth.

The hand on her waist drifted up her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps. ‘Your neat little stumble attracted the right attention. We’re now the spectacle for a few dozen pairs of eyes to feast on.’ With a little too much practised ease, he lifted her faux-fur wrap from her shoulders and handed it to a cloak attendant.

Irritation jerked through her. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’

‘Then it’s a good thing your lover is here to catch you when you’re adorably clumsy, isn’t it, sweetheart?’ Light fingers framed her cheek, his smile continuing to blind with its fake brilliance.

Rebel was about to snap for him to ease off with the false charm, but her words dried in her throat when Draco’s name was boomed from over her shoulder.