The Billionaire's Virgin Box Set

She was still looking at the ticket. ‘Go where?’

‘With me. This is your lucky day.’ He wondered whether it was possible for words to actually choke a man. ‘You’ve hit the jackpot.’

Her gaze shifted from the ticket to his face. ‘I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.’

So, not only had she won this round, but she intended to make him suffer by rubbing it in.

He was so livid that had he been a lion he would have savaged her on the spot and left her body for the hyenas.

As it was, the desire

to walk away was so powerful that he actually stepped back from her. Then a vision of his father flew into his head and he reminded himself of the reason he was standing here now.

Cursing softly, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, wondering if there had been any change in his father’s condition.

Reminding himself that the sooner this was sorted, the sooner he could return to Greece and monitor his father’s progress in person, Angelos stood his ground. ‘Amazing though it seems, I’m about to further the acquaintance that you saw fit to initiate.’ Furious at finding himself manipulated by a set of circumstances that were now far beyond his control, he tightened his jaw. ‘Get in the car.’

‘I really need to tell you something—’ she sounded young, and just a little bit desperate, but he was too angry to feel sympathy.

He knew from personal experience that youth and greed existed happily together. Thanks in part to the numerous glossy magazines that made their profit from fuelling envy, there were plenty of people who wanted maximum lifestyle for minimum effort.

‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say. This time I’m doing the talking, and I don’t want an audience.’

She didn’t move, and the crowd of people behind her seemed to have grown larger. ‘I don’t see what there is to talk about.’

‘You’ll find out soon enough. Unlike you, I prefer to keep my personal business personal. Let’s go.’ Before someone recognised him and took a photograph that would appear in tomorrow’s newspapers. ‘My hotel isn’t far from here.’

‘Your hotel?’ Her expression grew suddenly frosty, as if he’d delivered the worst insult possible. ‘Pick another girl, Mr Zouvelekis. I’m not the sort of woman who likes to become intimately acquainted with the inside of a man’s hotel room—even less so when that man is a stranger.’

Her prim, dignified rejection was so at odds with what he already knew about her character that he didn’t know whether to laugh or punch something.

‘A stranger?’ He failed to keep the disdain out of his voice. ‘I’m the same stranger that you danced with, and we both know where that dance would have led. If you hadn’t shown your true colours so early in the evening, we would have ended the night naked in my hotel room.’

Her lips parted in murmured denial, but although her mouth was trying to form the right words, the chemistry between them was still sizzling.

Even while struggling against a shockingly powerful urge to wring her neck, Angelos found himself being distracted by the smooth, creamy perfection of her skin and the way her full breasts pressed against her white shirt.

No wonder he hadn’t been concentrating the night of the ball.

She was spectacular.

Exasperated with himself, he forced his attention back to her eyes. ‘Even if I wasn’t already aware of your reputation, Isabelle, your performance at the ball would have been more than enough to convince me that, quite apart from being that “sort of woman”, in fact your specialist subject is the inside of men’s hotel rooms.’

‘My reputation?’ She sounded astonished, as though it were news to her that she had a reputation, and he gave her a warning glance.

‘Now I know who you are, I can understand why you went to such extraordinary lengths not to introduce yourself. Next time you want to trap a billionaire, change your name.’

Her eyes widened, and suddenly he forgot everything that he’d been intending to say.

She had the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. Standing this close, and with the benefit of the spring sunshine to light her face, he could see that the sapphire was broken by flecks of green—as if an adoring artist had been determined to do everything possible to increase the impact of those eyes on a woefully poorly prepared male race. And as for her body—

He gritted his teeth, aware that it had been her body that had contributed to the situation they now found themselves in. His libido had smothered the sound of alarm bells ringing in his head.

His comment silenced her for a moment and she watched him, her chest rising and falling under the white lace blouse.

Aware that the audience around them was listening intently to the entire conversation, Angelos reached out and slid an arm round her waist, jerking her against him.

‘I’ll give you some more free advice,’ he murmured softly, his lips close to her ear. His actions were those of a lover, but his words were those of an aggressor, and he felt the sudden tension in her body, ‘if you want a man to believe in your virtue, don’t wear a skirt that reveals your chosen brand of underwear. Not that I’m complaining, you understand. If we have to do this, we might as well both enjoy it. In fact, I’m wondering what extras come with the waitress costume? Whipped cream? Melted chocolate?’