If they married on the terms he’d set out—if!—then that factor, above all, was not a good reason.
In her head his words hovered again—his promise to her.
‘You will never know poverty again...’
Temptation like an overpowering wave swept over her. She could marry this incredible-looking man, enjoy his wealth, revel in the lifestyle that would have been hers had her father not been as callous, as heartless, as despicable as he was. And she could walk away at the end of it all with a passport to a better life for herself.
I could do it! I really could do it!
But would she? That was the question she must answer.
And it hung in her head like a burning brand.
* * *
Xandros glanced expectantly towards the entrance to the hotel’s rooftop restaurant. He’d phoned through to Rosalie’s room and she was on her way. He was glad she had accepted his suggestion that they have dinner together tonight, glad she’d let him book her into this hotel in central Athens, and glad that she hadn’t insisted, after all, on him driving her to the airport so she could fly back to London.
And he was glad, above all, that at least she hadn’t blown his proposal out of the water.
Because the more he considered it, the more ideal it became. In his head he ran through all the reasons why one more time as he took a sip from the gin-based cocktail he’d been served as he waited for Rosalie.
Just as he’d told her that afternoon, all the financial reasons stacked up irrefutably. And so did his own personal reasons. Reasons that, as he caught sight of her hovering a little hesitantly at the restaurant entrance, seared across his retinas.
His gaze was riveted on her as she walked towards him, guided by the maître d’.
A swift phone call to the Coustakis mansion as they’d headed back from Sounion at the end of the afternoon had resulted in her two new suitcases full of designer clothes being delivered to the hotel by the time they reached it. And clearly, in the hours since she’d checked in, she’d taken her pick of the contents.
To very good effect.
His eyes swept over her, warming with rich appreciation. An LBD—classic style—skimmed her tall, slender body flawlessly. She wore it with an evening jacket lightly embroidered in silver thread, adorned with a long silver necklace and matching bracelets. Her hair was upswept, which lengthened her graceful neck, enhancing an elegance that was rounded off by high heels that gave her an amazing sashaying walk as she approached.
Thee mou, but she was beautiful! To think she had clutched that damnable bucket and mop and scrubbed filthy floors!
Even as he thought about it, another thought gelled in his mind.
She never will again—never!
Whatever it took to convince her to accept his proposal, he would do it. She deserved no less.
And nor do I.
He felt that low-frequency purring start inside him as she came up to him. This beautiful woman, whose existence he had known of for only four days, had blown him away.
He got to his feet, greeting her warmly, letting the glow in his eyes show his appreciation of her.
It was having an effect, he could see—the very effect he wanted.
She wasn’t impervious to him—he knew that with absolute certainty. He’d seen that revealing flare in her eyes, try to conceal it as she might. And when they’d been in London he had sensed, with his very well-honed male instinct and his considerable experience of her sex, that she was as appreciative of him as he was of her, however offhand her manner had been.
But that initial deliberate indifference to him—caused, he thought ruefully, by his own guarded behaviour towards her, because he’d been unwilling to disabuse her about her father and unwilling to admit to himself how drawn he was to her—was all gone now. There was no longer any need for it.
He felt the purring inside him heighten. Now they could give their sensual awareness of each other full rein.
It was there right now—he could tell—in that flaring of her pupils as he smiled in welcome. In the flaring that was echoed in his own eyes. In the quickening of his pulse...
Impulse took over. An unstoppable urge. Without full consciousness of what he was doing, only male instinct possessing him, he caught her hand, rested his other hand lightly on her slender waist.
‘You look fantastic!’ he breathed. His voice was husky, again unconsciously—he couldn’t help it. His eyes moved over her face, taking in just how exquisitely lovely she looked, gazing at him now, wide-eyed, unconsciously inviting...