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‘I’m sorry...?’ He didn’t answer and she released the pent-up breath that had bottled inside her lungs. ‘Is that all, Kyrie... Alex?’ she finally asked. ‘If so, I’ll go now...’
‘That’s not all.’ His words stopped her in her tracks. ‘I have a proposition for you, Miss James.’
‘A proposition?’ She didn’t like the sound of that. The word was loaded with meaning, laced with innuendo, even when spoken in Alexandro Santos’ curt tone. ‘I’m not sure I...’
‘A perfectly respectable one. As respectable as one could possibly be, in fact.’ A note of rather bleak humour that she didn’t understand had entered his voice, and so she simply waited, having no idea how to respond. ‘A business offer,’ Alex clarified. ‘A very generous one. You accepted this position because of the salary, did you not?’
‘Yes...’ And to get away from Paris and the mocking eyes of Philippe and his crowd, but she wasn’t about to go into that.
‘Money is an incentive to you?’
‘Financial stability is.’ And saving money for Anna, but that was something else she had no intention of explaining. It was all too complicated, too sad and too sordid, and her employer did not need to know her personal details.
‘And my business proposition will certainly give you financial stability. In fact, that might be considered its chief benefit. But I admit, it might seem, at first glance, a rather unconventional idea.’ He let out a humourless rasp of laughter that would have chilled her if it hadn’t seemed so despairing. ‘Although perhaps not, considering how sensible and level-headed you seem. I think you might well see the practical advantages.’
‘Thank you, I think?’ Milly gazed at him uneasily, completely out of her depth. ‘But I really have no idea what you’re talking about. What is this...business proposition?’
Although she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like something expected or normal. What could he possibly want from her, in exchange for money?
She wasn’t naïve; neither was she, sadly, that innocent. She had an inkling of what he might want, and yet she could hardly credit such a possibility. She knew she wasn’t pretty—mousy-brown hair, same coloured eyes, a slight, unassuming figure. She wasn’t the sort to incite impassioned desire in any man, never mind what she’d once foolishly, so foolishly, let herself believe, with stars in her eyes and fairy tales in her heart. But she wasn’t going to think about Philippe.
And it would be just as foolish now to imagine that a man like Alexandro Santos, a handsome billionaire who could probably have any woman he wanted, was interested in her in that way. It was laughable, utterly so, and she would do well to remember that. Just looking at him now, shrouded in darkness, emanating a dark and innate authority as well as an undeniable charisma, made her realise how far apart they were in their experiences. Even when she couldn’t see him, she felt him, like an electric pulse in the air—dangerous and exciting, and definitely off-limits.
Yet what could he want? What else did she have? Her mind darted into possible corners, disliking what she imagined there. What if he was into something...well, strange? Some kind of fetish or weird kink he wouldn’t dare suggest to anyone he considered respectable...but no, she was being really fanciful now. Maybe he simply wanted her housekeeping services.
Perhaps he wanted to fly her to Athens to clean his penthouse there. But Milly knew she was fooling herself. Dusting and sweeping were hardly the most marketable or desirable skills, and it was obvious whatever Alex Santos was about to suggest was something out of the ordinary.
‘Kyrie Santos...’
‘Alex.’
‘Alex.’ She made herself repeat his name, the syllables sounding sharp as they came out of her mouth, like the pins turning in a lock. He still hadn’t turned, hadn’t spoken. ‘Are you going to tell me what this proposition of yours is?’
He didn’t turn from the window as he answered, his voice flat, toneless, without any warmth. ‘I want you to marry me.’
* * *
Although Alex remained staring out of the window so Milly couldn’t see his full face, he felt her shock. It rippled through the room like an electric current, pulsing between them with a dangerous charge. He angled his head so he could glance back at her, his eyes straining in the darkness. Her own almond-brown eyes widened, her pink lips parting.
She wasn’t a beautiful woman by any means, but there was something compelling about her slender frame, the innate dignity in the proud set of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin. To his surprise, Alex felt a shaft of interest slice through him—desire, something he hadn’t felt in years. That was rather inconvenient.
‘You’re...you’re not serious,’ she finally stammered.
‘I assure you, I am.’
‘Why would you want to marry me?’
It was, of course, an excellent question, and one Alex intended to answer truthfully. There would be no games in their marriage, no pretence in what he intended to be an extremely straightforward transaction. ‘Because I don’t have the time to find a more suitable and willing woman—’
‘Wow, thanks.’ The words burst out of her, full of hurt bitterness.
‘And,’ he continued implacably, ‘I need an heir as soon as possible.’
Milly reeled back, hitting the door, her hand fumbling for the knob. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ Alex said. ‘I’m trying to be truthful. It would be foolish for either of us to pretend, even for a moment, that a marriage between us would be anything more than a business arrangement, one involving courtesy and respect on both sides, of course.’
‘And yet you said an heir...’
‘This would not be a marriage in name only, obviously.’ He still spoke calmly, but images danced through his mind all the same. Skin burnished gold by candlelight, light brown hair loose on bare, freckled shoulders. Absurd, because their marriage would never be like that, and he didn’t even know if she had freckles.
