The Billionaire's Virgin Box Set

‘My apologies.’ He waved his hands towards Chantal, dismissing her hastily. ‘I didn’t know who you were.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ As the taverna-owner backed away and started clearing tables himself, Chantal looked at Angelos. ‘Who does he think I am?’

‘Mine,’ Angelos said silkily, pulling her towards him with a purposeful movement that was unmistakably possessive. ‘And now we are both leaving.’ Without waiting to hear her response he walked towards the car, his firm grip on her wrist giving her no choice but to follow.

‘Angelos, wait!’ She took two strides to his one, jogging to keep up with him. ‘This is my job.’

‘Not any more. He is going to find someone else to serve his customers.’

‘You can’t do that! I don’t want you to do that.’ Chantal dug her heels in, jerked her arm and freed herself. ‘I need to work.’

‘Not if the purpose of working is to give me money that I don’t want.’ He swung her off her feet and deposited her in the passenger seat. ‘We’ll continue this conversation somewhere more private. I hate public scenes.’

‘Then stop giving people something to stare at! For crying out loud, Angelos—’

‘I don’t want you working,’ he growled, springing into the car with the athletic grace of a jungle cat. ‘You don’t need to work.’

‘Yes, I do. If you won’t let me pay, then I’ll feel as though I’m your—’

‘You’re my what?’ Simmering with anger, he trod hard on the accelerator and the car sped away from the waterfront with a throaty roar. ‘What are you, Chantal? How do you see yourself?’ His anger simmered like a pot of boiling oil and instead of responding she cast a desperate glance over her shoulder.

The restaurant was already fading into the distance. ‘Angelos, take me back! Please.’

‘You are not working in that place.’

She sighed and slumped in her seat. ‘Have you any idea how hard it was to persuade him to give me that job?’

‘I don’t want to think about it.’

‘I don’t understand why you’re so angry.’

‘Don’t you?’ He changed gears viciously. ‘Seeing my woman serving drinks in a bar doesn’t generally do much for my mood.’

His woman?

‘You sound like a caveman.’ The phrase was possessive, and yet it sent a thrill through her body. No matter how much she tried to remind herself that expecting anything from this man was asking for heartbreak, she couldn’t help the feeling of happiness that bathed her entire being.

‘Fine. So I sound like a caveman.’ His harsh tone held not one hint of regret. ‘Get used to it. That’s the man I am.’

‘What about equality?’

‘You’re forgetting.’ At the last minute he braked and took a sharp bend with consummate skill. ‘I celebrate individuality. Men and women are different. They’re supposed to be different.’

She didn’t need him to point out their differences when they were right in front of her nose. Swamped by a feeling of helpless longing, it was a struggle for her to remember her principles. ‘It isn’t all about you, Angelos. I’m here, too.’

‘It is you who I am thinking about!’ His usually flawless English faltered slightly. ‘Are you seriously telling me that you’d rather stand on your feet all day slogging your guts out for a minimum wage than lie by my pool being pampered?’

‘Actually, yes. Because we’re having an—’ she stumbled over the terminology ‘—intimate relationship—I can’t let you pay for me.’

‘If we wer

en’t having an intimate relationship then I wouldn’t be paying for you.’ Visibly exasperated, he muttered something in Greek under his breath. ‘I admire your principles, but you are taking this too far. It ends now.’

‘You still think I’m just doing it to impress you?’ It occurred to her that they were driving away from the harbour, up into the hills, and now he was negotiating a series of terrifying hairpin bends, his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel.

‘Yes, but I blame myself for that. My comments on Isabelle Ducat and also on my father’s ex-wives were hardly flattering. But they were not aimed at you. I have never applied those comments to you. You are different.’

‘Yes, I’m different.’ She clutched her seat, wishing he’d slow down. ‘I don’t want to be a kept woman. I need to pay my own way. I need to be useful.’