Page 41 of The Billionaire's Demand

She glanced at him as they entered the Résidence.

‘That would be good...eating in,’ she said.

‘I think so too,’ he affirmed. ‘How about some coffee now?’

‘I’d prefer tea,’ she answered. ‘But let me make it—and your coffee. Silly to summon the butler.’

She headed for the kitchen and Leandros followed her, discovering that a platter of fresh patisserie had been left for them. It looked good, and lunch had been a while ago now. He lifted a cherry, succulent and inviting, from the top of one of the mouth-watering selections, and realised that Eliana, kettle in hand, was looking at him, her expression strange.

‘You used to pick the nuts off the baklava,’ she said. ‘Even though they were tiny and covered in syrup.’

‘So I did,’ he recalled. He’d forgotten. ‘Then you’d dampen your serviette with water from your glass and hand it to me to wipe my sticky fingers...’

So long ago...so slight a gesture...so slight a memory.

And yet—

He put it from him. It was the present he was dealing with. And one issue in particular.

‘I was thinking,’ he said, ‘whether you’d like another bath.’

She looked at him blankly.

He busied himself with the coffee machine, selecting his choice.

‘After last night,’ he said. ‘In case—well, in case...’

He looked up, straight at her. He must say what he wanted to say. Needed to say.

‘Last night...it changes things. So I want you to know—’ He broke off. Then made himself go on. ‘I expect nothing now, Eliana. Not any more.’

Where that had come from he didn’t know. Knew only that he had needed to say it. That, in the end, was that what this day had been about—separating what had been before from what now was.

He was looking at her still. He could not read her face, nor her stillness. He went on speaking.

‘So we’ll just go on taking things as they come, OK? We can be as...as we are now. We can go on with our visit to Paris. Or...’ he took a breath ‘...I can take you back to Thessaloniki, if that is what you prefer. It’s...it’s your call.’ A thought struck him. ‘Everything I bought you yesterday—all the clothes—obviously you will take them with you. That goes without saying. Anyway,’ he carried on, wanting her to understand, ‘for this evening, at least, let’s just do what we agreed—eat in, take it easy...whatever.’

He paused again. She was still looking at him, her expression still unreadable. He needed a way out of there, so he took it, lifting up the platter of patisserie.

‘I’ll take these through,’ he said, and got out.

Not knowing if he felt relief or its very opposite.

Or both.

Or why.

Eliana deposited her tea and Leandros’s coffee on the low table by the sofa. Leandros was at one end, and he switched on the TV to an English language news channel. Her mind was still processing what Leandros had just said to her. She busied herself pouring milk into her tea, and Leandros did likewise for his coffee, then pushed the platter of patisserie towards her.

She selected one of the enticing-looking confections, depositing it on one of the two small plates she’d brought through for that purpose, handing the other plate to Leandros so he could make his selection. A small gesture...an intimate one.

A domestic one.

As if—

No—there was no ‘as if’ about it. She hadn’t married him, she had never been his wife, and she never would be. Whatever was happening now had no domesticity to it at all.

Does he really want me to go back to Thessaloniki? Does he regret bringing me here?

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