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‘Mmm. Nice…hat,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting with provocation.
‘I… Thank you.’ Dreamily, she touched the brim, trying not to think about the sinful curve of his lips, or get too carried away by the careless compliment.
He flipped the lid of his computer shut and rose abruptly to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’
Outside, the warmth of the sun beating down on her only increased Grace’s feeling of contentment as they began to walk towards the famous gardens and she drank in the landmarks she’d only ever seen in books or films. The glint of the River Seine. The Robocop structure of the Eiffel Tower. The Palais Royal and the Place Vendôme. And, of course, cars—living in Venice, she wasn’t used to cars. They sat at a pavement café and drank Kir Royale and she watched elegant women passing by with their handbag-sized dogs.
By the time they reached the Tuileries, Grace was feeling totally relaxed—especially when Odysseus managed to commandeer a vacant bench. Was it something about his commanding presence which made a young couple spring to their feet, as if compelled to give the powerful billionaire the space he needed?
‘You don’t mind if I make a few calls?’ he said, pulling out his phone.
‘I don’t suppose it would make any difference if I did?’
‘Correct,’ he affirmed.
Punching out a call, he began speaking in Greek and, with a jolt, Grace realised she hadn’t looked at her own phone all day. She hadn’t wanted to. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and this powerful man had become the centre of her universe. And surely that was dangerous.
Was it?
She stared at the way the sunlight sparkled on the water of the central fountain and wondered what advice her darling nana might give if she weren’t lying in a coma. But deep down, she knew. She’d tell her that life was short and to get out there and enjoy herself, instead of spoiling it by worrying about the future. And that was what she intended to do. No more entertaining impossible dreams about a man who was totally out of her reach. She was just going to enjoy what they had now. She was here to learn about sex…so bring on the next lesson! A tiny white dog came yapping up to her and she giggled as she bent to ruffle its soft ears and it rose up on its back legs and performed a little dance.
‘That’s better,’ purred Odysseus.
Retracting her fingers from the playful canine, Grace looked up, noticing Odysseus was turning off his phone before sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans, and she felt a blissful clench of anticipation as she met the gleam of his eyes. ‘What is?’
There was a pause. ‘I wonder if you have any idea of how beautiful you look when you smile.’
Don’t react. Donotreact. Remember what you’ve just been thinking. ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said lightly, holding onto her hat against a sudden gusty breeze, aware that Odysseus was studying her with a look she now recognised. A smoky longing. A burst of sensual flame, which flowed between them like lava. Desire in its purest form which made her go weak at the knees.
‘I think we should go back to the hotel as soon as possible because I want you, Grace. Very badly,’ he stated unevenly.
‘I want you too,’ she whispered.
‘And later I’m going to take you somewhere very special for dinner.’
Grace was on such a high that she didn’t even stress about what she was going to wear, especially as Odysseus took her straight to bed and ravished her so thoroughly that afterwards she was left feeling completely sated. They slept wrapped in each other’s arms and it was only when she woke up amid the rumpled sheets that her doubts started to emerge.
‘Is this restaurant you’re taking me to very posh?’
‘Reasonably. Why?’
‘I’m wondering what to wear…obviously.’ She threw him a reproving look. ‘Especially after those snide comments you made about my fashion sense.’
‘I take it all back. You look good in anything. Better still in nothing.’ He trailed a slow finger over her hip. ‘But there’s a dress shop next door. We could easily go down and find something for you to wear.’
She couldn’t deny being tempted by his careless suggestion and Grace supposed that purchasing a designer dress would be a drop in the ocean for someone like Odysseus. And there was no doubt that a sumptuous gown bought in this expensive part of the city would help her blend in and look the part. But she shook her head, because that was definitely a line and she didn’t want to cross it. ‘I’d rather not,’ she said. ‘I’ll just tart up something I’ve brought with me and do my best not to let you down.’
She could tell he was surprised—perhaps even a touch irritated—by her refusal to accept his offer, but in the end she pronounced herself pleased with what she accomplished. Her simple black dress adorned with masses of silver chains which caught the light as she walked, she slid her feet into a pair of barely worn black heels which brought her almost up to his shoulders. She was just about to add to her supposed look of sophistication by piling up her hair, when he stopped her.
‘No. Leave it down. I like it best like that,’ he commanded huskily, and Grace felt a flutter of delight as he stroked his fingers through the newly washed strands.
His car sped them to a restaurant high on the sixth floor in the fifth arrondissement of the city, overlooking the glitter of the river and Notre-Dame Cathedral. It was, indeed, very grand, but the light touch of Odysseus’s hand at her back filled Grace with a sense of self-belief and although everyone in the room was looking at him, he seemed only to have eyes for her. In the candlelight, they ate duck with polenta and drank rich, red wine and she found herself thinking that this was, without doubt, the best night of her life and she wanted to savour every second of it.
He didn’t take her straight to bed when they arrived back at the hotel, just tugged off his tie and kissed her very thoroughly before disappearing into the bathroom, and that felt comfortable and intimate. It felt real. Hugging herself with anticipation about the night ahead, Grace suddenly heard a vibrating sound coming from the depths of her small rucksack and pulled out her phone, her heart sinking when she glanced at the screen.
Because, intoxicated by sex and enclosed within this bubble of rarefied luxury, it had been ridiculously easy to forget that she had another life. And the reminder of that life came crashing down like a rock when she saw that there were fourteen missed calls from Vincenzo.
Fourteen.