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She’d gone back with him to his room that night. It had been so unlike her—she’d always kept herself apart, her heart on ice. In her twenty-nine years she’d had only two lovers before Leo, both of them lamentably forgettable. Neither of those men had affected her the way Leo did—and not just physically.
From that first night he’d reached a place inside her she’d thought numb, dead. He’d brought her back to life. And while she’d known it was dangerous she’d stayed with him, because the thought of not being with Leo was worse.
Except now that was a reality. She’d thought an affair with Leo would be safe, that he would never ask more of her than she was prepared to give. But here he was asking for marriage, a lifetime, and her response was bone-deep terror.
Which was why she could not accept his proposal.
Except she had a terrible and yet thrilling certainty that he had a different proposal in mind now, as he came towards her, his gaze turning hooded and sleepy even though that lithe, powerful body she knew almost as well as her own was taut with suppressed energy and tension.
She licked her lips, felt the insistent thud of her heart, the stirring of blood in her veins. Even now her body yearned for him.
‘Leo...’
‘You surprise me, Margo.’
She gave a little shake of her head. ‘You’re the one who surprised me.’
‘Clearly. But I thought you’d be pleased. Don’t you want to get married?’
He sounded so reasonable, but she saw a certain calculation in his eyes, and he ran one hand up and down her bare arm, so gooseflesh broke out in the wake of his touch.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
His easy, interested tone jarred with the fingers he continued to run up and down her arm, and with that sleepy, knowing gaze.
‘I’m a career woman, Leo—’
‘You can be a married career woman, Margo. This is the twenty-first century, after all.’
‘Oh? And how would that work, exactly? You live in central Greece—the middle of nowhere. How am I supposed to work from there?’
For a second she thought she saw a gleam of something like triumph in his eyes, but then it sparked out and he gave a negligent shrug of his shoulders. ‘You could commute. The flight from Athens to Paris is only a few hours.’
‘Commute? Are you serious?’
‘We could work something out, Margo, if that’s all that’s stopping you.’
There was a note of challenge in his voice, and she realised then what he was doing. Leonidas Marakaios was a powerful and persuasive man. He was CEO of the Marakaios Enterprises, a company that had started with a few olive groves and a cold press and was now a multibillion dollar company—a man of the world who was used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted her. So here he was, breaking down her defences, discarding her arguments. And the trouble was she was so weak, so tempted, that it might actually work.
She turned away from him to take a few steadying breaths without him seeing how unsettled she was. In the darkness of the window she could see her reflection: a too pale face, wide eyes, and a tumble of long dark brown hair that fell nearly to her waist.
When Leo had shown up twenty minutes ago she’d been in yoga pants and a faded tee shirt, her face without a lick of make-up, her hair down. She’d been silently appalled. She’d always been careful that he saw only the woman she wanted him to—the woman the world saw: sexy, chic, professional, a little bit distant, a little bit cool. All their meetings had been stage-managed affairs; she’d swept into a restaurant or hotel room in full make-up, a sexy little negligee in her bag, insouciant and secure.
He’d never seen her like this: vulnerable, without the mask of make-up, the armour of designer clothes. He’d never seen her agitated and uncertain, her savoir-faire slipping from her fingers.
‘Margo,’ Leo said quietly. ‘Tell me the real reason.’
Another quick breath, buoying inside her lungs. ‘I told you, Leo. I don’t want marriage or what it entails. The whole housewife routine bores me to death.’ She made her voice cold—careless, even.
Steeling herself, she turned around to face him and nearly flinched at the careful consideration in his eyes. She had a horrible feeling she wasn’t fooling him at all.
‘I just said you don’t need to be a housewife. Do you think I want to change you completely?’
‘You don’t even know me, Leo, not really.’
He took a step towards her, and again she saw that intent in his eyes, felt an answering flare inside her. She had, she realised, just given him a challenge.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I’m not talking about sex.’
