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‘My bedroom.’
‘Wow. You had secret stairs put in for your lovers? A little archaic, don’t you think?’ Heavens, what was wrong with her?
He laughed.
And everything inside her stilled at the deep, hypnotic sound. With his head thrown back in amusement, he was almost too much to behold. ‘If you ever wish to rethink your career, try your hand at scriptwriting period drama. You have a flair for it.’
She flushed, then pursed her lips, annoyed with herself for continuing to allow him to get under her skin.
‘The corridor also leads to my private pool,’ he elaborated. ‘Use it if you wish. Relax, have something to eat. I have a few things to catch up on so I’m sure you’ll be happy to be free of me for a while.’
She didn’t answer, simply because a slight hollow feeling yawned inside her with the news of his absence.
His phone buzzed again. With one last look at her, Xandro walked out.
She tried to ignore the bereft feeling that assailed her as he left. She clearly needed something to do.
Decision made, she grabbed her swimsuit, took the door and stairs Xandro had indicated and arrived at a stunning, partially covered swimming pool. Tiled with dark green marble, the waters sparkled with a tropical exoticism that invited her to indulge.
Diving into the pool, she powered through the water, hoping the exertion would clear her mind. She emerged after twenty laps to see the butler approaching with a tray. She devoured the club sandwich and cool drink before returning to her suite.
It was late afternoon but her body clock was wired to Greek time, which was somewhere in the middle of the night.
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She lay on the sofa in her favourite T-shirt, grabbed the remote and channel-hopped, with every intention of staying awake because now her mind was a little clearer, she remembered she’d intended to talk to Xandro about where she could practise. The added thought that she had no means of reaching him also began to irk her. Did he work in the hotel? Or did he have offices elsewhere? And, considering he was single with no family, why did he need a penthouse with enough rooms to house a large family?
And how exactly had he managed to evade the gang that had put a price on his head in New York all those years ago?
Questions pelted her mind. Each time she tried to push one away, another rose, more persistent. And then came one that made her chest tighten in disquiet.
She’d stepped into her unwilling role without asking Xandro if he was involved with another woman. Considering the number of pictures she’d seen of him with different women on his arm, it wasn’t as if he lacked female attention. When he’d said he had a few things to catch up on, she’d assumed he meant work.
But now she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d meant something else. Someone else. Regardless of the fact that she was here because he was using her to bring her brother to heel, Sage despised the thought that she might unwittingly be sharing him with another woman.
Except sharing meant he was hers. And he wasn’t.
Her lips pursed. Nevertheless, it needed to be addressed. Irritated that something so vital had slipped her guard, she turned over, plumped the sofa cushion and turned up the volume on the music station she’d located to drown out the voice mocking her stupidity.
When she opened her eyes again it was to a different view. In the moments it took for her to recall her whereabouts, she stretched her arms above her head, luxuriating in the warm, comfortable sheets.
Then she jack-knifed upright. She was in the bedroom. And the clock on the bedside table showed it was four a.m. She’d slept for almost ten hours. And somewhere during that time she’d been moved from the sofa. The bolt of shock threatened to morph into something else.
She pushed away the covers and stood, looking around for goodness knew what. Evidence of Xandro’s presence? A sign that she might have sleepwalked?
She knew it wasn’t the latter. Which made the thought that she’d been in his arms without knowing it all the more unnerving.
Wide-awake and too restless to get back into bed and lie there with her roiling thoughts, she left the room.
The hallway and living room were softly lit. She stood for a moment, listening for signs of occupation. Then, convinced the coffee she smelled was from a timed percolator, she followed the scent to the kitchen.
Xandro stood with his back to her, pouring black coffee into a mug. The temptation to flee warred with the need to stay put, stare at the muscular V-shaped back displayed in all its naked glory above the dark, low-riding sweatpants he wore.
Sage wasn’t sure whether she made a sound or whether the predatory instinct she sensed in him alerted him to her presence. He looked over his shoulder, spotted her and swivelled on his heel with a grace that wouldn’t have gone amiss in a male dancer. The low buzzing in her ears that had started at the sight of his bare back intensified when she was confronted with his chiselled, silky-haired chest.
‘We’re both paying the price of jet lag, I see. Coffee?’ He lifted his cup.
She wavered.
