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‘All over again? When did I first break your heart?’
‘After that night on the island.’ She blushed and lowered her lashes, and he lifted her chin so she had to look at him. He wanted to see the reality of her love in her eyes. ‘You looked so disgusted with me.’
He let a harsh Russian curse slip out, realising how it must have looked to her. She’d been at her most vulnerable then and he’d hurt her at the worst possible time. ‘I was disgusted with myself for pushing you into that situation.’
She reached up and pressed her lips against his briefly. ‘None of that matters now, Liev, and I wouldn’t have changed that night for anything. It was perfect.’
Before she could say anything else, he kissed her, her response firing the need within him, and he had to force himself to stop. He loved her, and as he’d looked into her eyes, he’d seen her love reflected back at him.
* * *
Bianca wanted to keep kissing him, to savour every last minute of the kiss. She loved him. He’d changed her and changed the way she viewed men, albeit in an unorthodox way, but he had and she meant what she’d said. That night they’d spent on his island together was special and she couldn’t ever forget it, wish it undone, for anything. That night she had loved him—truly loved him.
Her grandfather had known that she’d fallen deeply in love with Liev; she was convinced of that now. Thankfully she didn’t think he knew that Liev had blackmailed her, but he had known she loved him and was holding back, denying herself love. ‘Do you know what my grandfather said just before we left?’
She felt Liev’s arms tense around her and his eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. ‘What did he say?’
‘He told me that whatever I did, I shouldn’t waste a chance of love if it comes along.’ She smiled at him, her heart beating hard with love for him. ‘And I don’t intend to waste it, Liev.’
He closed his eyes in relief, his arms losing their tension, but not lessening their hold on her. ‘Bianca, how can I ever make it up to you, put right all the wrong I’ve done?’
‘Love me.’
‘There was a moment in the park last week when I wanted to tell you I loved you...that I didn’t care about revenge, that all I cared about was you. Do you remember telling me I would one day do anything for love?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, remembering those exact words.
‘I was almost blinded with jealousy because of the love you had for your grandfather.’
‘It wasn’t my grandfather I was referring to—or the bracelet. It was you and that night at the villa.’
Liev didn’t answer her, at least not with words. Instead he claimed her lips, pulling her so hard against him that she could hardly breathe, but it was exactly where she wanted to be. His hands caressed her and beneath the business suit she wore her body burst into flames.
‘There is only one thing left to do.’ He held her away from him to look into her eyes, his full of desire matching that which raced through her. He stepped back and pulled the ring from his pocket, holding it between his fingers so it glinted beneath the lights. ‘You can choose a different ring if you want, but, Bianca Di Sione, will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife? My real wife.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. This was the happy ending she’d secretly longed for all her life, since reading that letter, the one so full of love. ‘Yes, Liev, I will and I don’t want a different ring—this one is just perfect.’
He kissed her more deeply than he’d ever kissed her and eventually his lips left hers, leaving her so breathless she could hardly utter a word. ‘Bianca Di Sione, I love you so very much. You have made my life complete.’
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from DEMETRIOU DEMANDS HIS CHILD by Miranda Lee
Demetriou Demands His Child
by Miranda Lee
CHAPTER ONE
TONIGHT WAS FOR MAGIC. Iolanthe Petrakis gazed at her reflection in the cheval mirror of her childhood bedroom, her mouth curving into a smile of delighted expectation. Her new gown of silvery-white satin rippled over her body, flaring out from her hips and ending in frothy ruffles around her ankles. It was a fairy-tale dress, sparkling whenever she moved, fit for a princess. And tonight she felt like a princess, Cinderella poised for her first ball. She was determined to enjoy every moment.
A light knock sounded on the door. ‘Iolanthe?’ her father, Talos Petrakis, called. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’ Iolanthe smoothed her hand over her shining dark hair, drawn up into an elegant chignon by the housekeeper, Amara. Her heart thudded with both excitement and nerves. Taking a deep breath, she turned from the mirror and opened the door to her father.
Talos surveyed her silently for a moment, and Iolanthe held her breath, hoping he was pleased with her appearance. After subjecting her to a lifetime of seclusion at his countryside villa, he was finally allowing her an evening’s entertainment and pleasure. She couldn’t bear for it to be taken away.
‘Is it all right?’ she asked when the silence stretched on. She smoothed her hands down the shiny fabric. ‘Amara helped pick it...’
