Page 19 of The Billionaire's Demand

Several doors opened off the drawing room. Leandros crossed to open one of them.

‘Your bedroom,’ he said.

Eliana’s eyes flickered to him, and then to the doorway, and she walked through into the room beyond. It was a double bedroom, with a silk-covered bed, more silk drapes at the windows, and the glimpse of an en suite bathroom through another door.

‘Mine’s next door,’ Leandros said.

Was his voice dry? She didn’t know—knew only that her breathing had quickened, as if in agitation, and that nerves were plucking at her again.

‘I’ll leave you to freshen up,’ he was saying now—and he walked back out, closing the door behind him as he did so. ‘I need to change for this evening.’

Slowly, Eliana let her shoulder bag down onto the beautiful counterpane and looked about her, still feeling her heart thumping. Dear God, she was here, in Paris, in a hotel suite, and there was only one purpose for her presence here.

Faintness drummed through her, and emotions she could not name—would not name at all. She took a deep, steadying breath instead. The best way to cope with this—the only way—was not to think, not to feel, just to keep going, one moment at a time.

‘Freshen up’, Leandros had said. So she did just that, repairing to the en suite bathroom.

It was a long time, it seemed, since she’d got up that morning, and as the bathroom facilities in her studio were both primitive and limited, the contrast with the palatial bathroom here was total. Almost without realising it, she felt her spirits lift as she stripped off, turned on the shower, stepped inside. The vanity unit came with an overflowing basket of expensive toiletries, and within minutes she was revelling in the feel of washing her hair under a strong, hot stream of water, lathering her body with richly scented bodywash.

Oh, but it felt good to have such a shower again—not since she’d lived with Damian had there been such luxury for her.

Luxury she’d once taken for granted.

Luxury that had come with her marriage.

She felt a kind of sudden hollowing in her stomach. And now it was going to be hers again—courtesy of the man she had rejected marrying.

She cut the shower—cut the thoughts starting to invade her mind. They were too disturbing and for too many reasons. Disturbing reasons. Because they were conflicting reasons...reasons she was fighting against admitting.

Being here like this—in Paris, with Leandros—was not simply for the reasons she had been telling herself. Because she owed it to him...because she wanted final closure, so she could move on with her life, move on without Leandros...

She reached for a towel to wind around her wet hair, another to wrap around her naked body. She was conscious of avoiding looking at her reflection. Yet she saw it all the same. Slender...so slender...her nakedness covered only with a towel, her arms and shoulders bare, her legs bare, her breasts pressing against the confines of the towel. She felt an awareness of her own physical body...felt as burningly conscious of herself as she had been of Leandros on the flight over...of the body that soon Leandros would—

Urgently, she tore her thoughts away again. Too disturbing...too conflicting. Just like her emotions. Ragged and raw. Tangled and tormenting.

Impossible to make sense of.

Leandros stood by the Juliet balcony, hands thrust into the trouser pockets of his tuxedo. His mood was strange, his thoughts disjointed, contradicting each other. Had this been a major mistake, letting Eliana back into his life? An act of insanity he would regret all his life? Was he just raking up dead ashes that should be dug into the earth and never exhumed?

Even as the thought came, its negation came even more swiftly. It was his love for Eliana that was dead and gone—nothing else. Seeing her again had rekindled—instantly, totally—everything else he’d ever felt about her. And it was that ‘everything else’ that he was reviving now—reclaiming now.

That and nothing else.

He felt his heart harden the way he had taught it to—the way she had caused it to. No, there was nothing left of love between them. His face hardened along with his heart. Not that she had ever felt any love for him. It had been self-interest, that was all. The moment his father had threatened to disinherit him she’d cut and run...

But now he’d brought her back into his life. Deliberately and consciously.

On my terms only. For a limited period—and a limited purpose.

To get her out of his system once and for all. It was all he asked for.

The door from her bedroom opened and she emerged. His eyes went to her immediately. She’d changed, and was now wearing something a little more suitable for her surroundings. A below-the-knee dress with a slight floral print, high-waisted and with a blouson bodice. Her hair—newly washed, he could see—was drawn back into a still-damp ponytail.

‘That dress isn’t chain store,’ he heard himself saying.

She gave a little shake of her head, as if his remark had taken her aback.

‘No, it’s one my father bought me. Like he bought the gown I wore to Chloe’s party. They’re old now, but good quality.’

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