She went to the bathroom, pushed open the window, climbed through it and dropped onto the street outside.

Brushing off the dust, she derived some small satisfaction from the knowledge that she wasn’t making it easy for him. No doubt he’d track her down again in no time if he wanted to, but that didn’t mean she had to hand herself over.

Heart pounding, she sprinted along the maze of streets that led back to the tiny room she was renting, all the time expecting to hear the heavy tread of masculine footsteps behind her.

She was just congratulating herself on successfully slipping away when a male hand curved over her shoulder.

Terrified that it might be her father or one of his men, Selene turned round swinging but it was Stefan who caught her arm.

‘It’s all right. It’s just me.’ His voice was roughened with concern. ‘But it might not have been. Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you making it hard for us to protect you?’

‘I’ve been followed and watched over for the whole of my life. I am trying to escape from that.’

‘I offered you my help but instead you choose to spend your day working in a taverna being propositioned by sleazy men in Hawaiian shorts.’

‘And what are you, Stefan? A sleazy man in an expensive suit? At least they’re honest about what they want.’ Still shaken by the panic that had grippe

d her when he’d touched her shoulder, she pressed herself against the wall. ‘I really have no idea why you’re even here. I’ve served my purpose and we both know you’re not interested in anything or anyone unless it serves a purpose.’

‘Since when did you become so cynical?’

‘Since I accepted that you’re a cold, emotionless megalomaniac with no redeeming qualities. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll—’

‘No.’

He planted his arms either side of her, caging her, and she gasped, shoving him hard.

‘Don’t ever trap me like that.’

‘Then don’t run.’ But he lowered one of his arms. It made virtually no difference because he was standing so close to her there was no way she could move. ‘I did not invite you to that party because of your father. I invited you because you were sweet and sexy and because I wanted to spend time with you.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this. It’s too late, Stefan.’

‘Journalists take photographs of me all the time. It’s part of my life. So much a part of it I didn’t think of it. Had you explained to me the importance of your father not knowing, it might have occurred to me.’

‘I arrived in your office in disguise. Didn’t that give you a clue?’

‘You told me he disapproved of what you were doing and I had no reason not to question that. You were dressed in a nun’s outfit—’ his eyes gleamed with self-mockery, ‘—I assumed that what came out of your mouth was the truth.’

‘But you knew I wanted to keep my visit to you a secret.’

‘I didn’t even think about it. There is a world of difference between a disapproving father and an abusive father. I thought you wanted to make your mark on the world. I didn’t know he was leaving marks on you.’ There was a brief pause. His mouth tightened. ‘You should have shared that with me.’

‘Apart from that one abortive attempt to tell the authorities, I’ve never shared it with anyone.’

‘But you shared something else with me you’ve never shared with anyone.’ His fingers brushed her cheek, surprisingly gentle. ‘You could have trusted me, Selene.’

She felt her body respond instantly and knew that the biggest danger to herself came from him.

‘So you’re saying what happened is my fault?’

‘No, it was mine.’ His hand dropped. ‘And I apologise because the possibility of photographs should have occurred to me and it didn’t. But the reason it didn’t was because I’ve lived with it for so long I don’t notice it any more.’ His leg brushed against hers. Her mind blurred.

Melting inside, Selene pressed herself hard against the wall in an attempt not to touch him. ‘It really doesn’t matter. I’ve moved on.’

‘But you’ve moved on without me,’ he said softly, ‘and that isn’t what I want. Your mother seems well.’

‘She’s very well. She’s been staying in the same artists’ community she lived in when she first arrived in Athens as a teenager. She’s painting again and her confidence is returning. It’s wonderful to see that after—’ She broke off, eyes wide. ‘Wait a minute, how do you know she’s well? You’ve followed her, too?’

Tags: Sarah Morgan Billionaire Romance
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