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Admittedly Drakon had actually invited her out this evening. And she had accepted. She just hadn’t expected it would involve being whisked off to a private airport and wined and dined on the Lyonedes jet before arriving in Verona to attend the opera.
But that didn’t mean she and Drakon were involved. Did it?
She shook her head firmly. ‘That’s still no reason for you to have behaved like—like a Neanderthal in front of Sam!’
Drakon drew in a sharp breath. ‘A Neanderthal?’
Gemini’s anger left her as quickly as it had flared into being when she saw his stunned disbelief at her accusation. ‘A Neanderthal.’ She nodded confirmation as she deliberately repeated the word. ‘That “me man, you woman” thing again. Or, in this case, “you my woman”! Which, besides being patently untrue, was especially inappropriate seeing as Sam happens to be my cousin,’ she added.
Drakon’s expression of haughty disdain turned to one of puzzlement. ‘I didn’t realise—your surnames are not the same.’
‘Could that be because Sam’s mother is my mother’s sister?’ she asked sarcastically.
‘I thought he looked vaguely familiar…’ Drakon looked down at her blankly for several seconds. ‘Yes, I see now that was due to the family resemblance.’
‘The family that by this time tomorrow will all have been informed that I’m staying in Verona with Drakon Lyonedes! And don’t you dare laugh,’ Gemini warned as she saw those chiselled lips begin to twitch. ‘The only family I have left are my Aunt Beatrice, Uncle Joseph and Sam—and now they’re all going to think that for some reason I’ve allowed myself to become Drakon Lyonedes’s latest bimbo!’
Drakon’s humour faded as quickly as it had appeared, his eyes turning to ebony chips of ice as he looked down at her. ‘As far as I am aware I have never associated with bimbos,’ he informed her frostily.
‘Kept woman. Mistress. Whatever,’ Gemini said crossly. ‘I don’t enjoy having the only family I have left in the world believing I’m no better than Angela!’
Drakon looked down at her searchingly, noting the over-bright sheen to those glorious sea-green eyes, the slight pallor to her cheeks, and realized—no matter how much he might resent her accusations—that her distress concerning what her small immediate family might think of her was very real.
He drew in a deep breath. ‘We will seek out your cousin at the interval and I will endeavour to put the record straight with regard to our relationship.’
She raised surprised brows. ‘And exactly how do you intend doing that?’
‘By informing him that our association is primarily a business one. Also that we have separate rooms booked at the hotel tonight. No…?’ he said with a frown as Gemini gave a firm shake of her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid that all sounds a little like protesting too much.’
‘I could always apologise for my earlier manner—explain that I had no idea he was your cousin—’
‘Which would only give the impression that we are involved, after all!’ She sighed. ‘Never mind, Drakon. I’ll sort it out with Sam when he gets back to London next week.’ She ran an agitated hand through her hair. ‘Let’s just go and listen to the opera, hmm?’
The last thing Drakon had intended this evening was to create a reason for any more unpleasantness in Gemini’s life—in truth, bringing her to Verona, well away from England, had been deliberately designed to do the very opposite. But that unexpected meeting with her cousin certainly seemed to have cast a shadow over her enjoyment.
Because, as she had so succinctly pointed out, Drakon had behaved like a Neanderthal when confronted with a younger man who seemed to be on far too intimate an acquaintance with her!
He had assumed, from the warmth of their greeting to each other, that Gemini and Sam must have been romantically involved in the past. And he had not liked it. Not one little bit. Which was really no excuse for his proprietorial behaviour towards her.
‘You’re right. We should take our seats now,’ he said.
Drakon’s inner feelings of disquiet resulted in him spending the first hour of the opera looking at Gemini more than he did the spectacle taking place on the stage: the smooth sheen of her white-gold hair, the creaminess of her brow and cheek, the clear brightness of those sea-green eyes as she gazed at the performers with rapt attention, the sensual fullness of her lips, the slender arch of her throat, and the tempting swell of her breasts.
The knowledge of her innocence told Drakon she was a young woman of principle. Her love and respect for her father, despite his disastrous second marriage, indicated that she was a woman of loyalty. She was a young woman who, because she had grown up protected and cosseted by her father’s wealth, could so easily have chosen to become one of the idle and bored debutantes Drakon had met so many times in the past at social events all over the world. But she had instead chosen to forge her own life and career by opening her own shop and working—working hard—with the flowers she so obviously loved.
All of which made her the most beautiful and unaffected young woman Drakon had ever met.
And he wanted her badly.
He ached to hold her softness in his arms as he moulded her body against his. To kiss every inch of her face and throat before claiming her lips with his. To cup her bared breasts in his hands as he slowly pleasured their stiff peaks. To caress the slenderness of her waist and hips before gently stroking the heat between her thighs—
‘Isn’t this wonderful!’ Gemini breathed, having placed h
er hand excitedly on Drakon’s arm as she turned to look at him with eyes that seemed to glow the same intense green as her emeralds. The earlier tension between them, and the reason for it, had obviously been forgotten. And forgiven, he sincerely hoped.
‘Wonderful,’ he echoed gruffly as his hand moved to capture and keep the warmth of her fingers pressed against his arm, but he was looking at Gemini and not at the stage above.
