The Greek Commands His Mistress

They were met at the door of a world-famous store and conveyed upwards in a lift, surrounded by a posse of attendants composed of a stylist, a personal shopper and sales assistants. Clearly Bastien had already stated his preferences, and they were shown into a private room where he was ushered into a seat. Lilah hovered, watching the approach of a tray of champagne, and then she was steered into a changing room, where an astonishingly large selection of clothing awaited her.

Surely trying on loads of clothes for Bastien’s benefit wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to her? But if making her model the clothes he wanted her to wear was a deliberate ploy to annoy her, he had played a blinder. The demeaning concept of swanning around in clothing personally picked by Bastien set her teeth on edge.

With a flush on her cheeks, she stepped back into the room clad in a blue silk dress that clung to her like cling film.

Bastien kicked back in his comfortable chair, very much in the mood to enjoy himself. His burnished gaze rested on Delilah and the oddest sense of contentment settled over him. Amusement tilted his handsome mouth when she teetered dangerously in the very high heels she clearly wasn’t accustomed to walking in. The dress was rubbish: far too revealing. The only place Delilah would be encouraged to show that amount of flesh was in his bedroom and nowhere else.

He moved a dismissive hand and awaited the next outfit, a pale pink jacket and skirt that was cute as hell against her cloud of blue-black hair and bright blue eyes. There might not be much of her, Bastien conceded, but what she lacked in curves she more than made up for in class, and with a delicacy that he considered incredibly feminine. The first time he had seen Delilah she had put him in mind of a flawless porcelain doll—until he’d noticed how expressive her face was: an ever-changing fascinating vista of what she was feeling and thinking. And what he liked most about her face was that he could read it as easily as a child’s picture book.

‘I’m not modelling underwear for you,’ she warned him in a biting undertone.

Disconcerted, Bastien froze and lifted his arrogant, dark head to meet her bright eyes head-on, finally recognising the blaze of anger banked down there. ‘Not a problem,’ he assured her lazily. ‘We’ll save that show for the bedroom, glikia mou.’

Lilah’s cheeks blazed with sudden livid colour. ‘No, that’s not me,’ she parried abruptly. ‘If that’s what you want, you’ve picked the wrong girl!’

‘You’re perfect for me,’ Bastien assured her levelly.

‘Well, that’s not a compliment I can return,’ Lilah replied tartly. ‘After all, it’s obvious that we’re a match made in hell. You want a dress-up doll that does exactly what’s it’s told and I won’t do that.’

Bastien rose lithely to his feet and looked down at her from his commanding height with unreadable dark eyes. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘You want all the imperfections airbrushed away. You want obedience. Clearly you want a woman with submissive traits, and yet I don’t have a submissive bone in my body! In fact, I’m more likely to argue with people who make unreasonable demands,’ Lilah shot back at him in angry frustration. ‘You’re the king of unreasonable demands, Bastien. So, what are you doing with me?’

‘You’re misinterpreting everything I’ve ever said to you,’ Bastien told her drily.

‘Am I?’ Lilah rolled her bright blue eyes, unimpressed by that accusation. ‘You’re such a control freak that you even want to choose the clothes I wear.’

‘That’s untrue,’ Bastien incised. ‘You’re more like a jewel I want to see polished up and placed in the right setting. I don’t want to see you wearing cheap clothes... I want to see you shine—’

‘Bastien!’ Lilah broke in helplessly, hopelessly confused by his attitude. He only wanted to have sex with her. He had been brutally honest about that reality. What did the clothes she wore have to do with a hunger that basic? Why on earth did he care what she wore?

She had paraded around for his benefit in one outfit after another. A vast wardrobe was being assembled for her use. She was stunned by that reality as well. For goodness’ sake, was Bastien planning to keep her for the rest of her life—and his? How would she ever wear even a quarter of these clothes while she was with him? This was a male who was famed for barely lasting a month with one woman. Yet she had been equipped with countless wardrobe choices—indeed, everything a woman could conceivably want for every possible occasion and every season. Late afternoon had already stretched well into evening to encompass the shopping trip.