Page 49 of The Billionaire's Demand

Everywhere there were vistas, a mix of formal gardens and more natural—even an orchard.

‘Over sixteen hectares,’ answered Leandros, quoting from the tourist guide.

They settled down on the bench at the edge of the gravelled pathway. Across the gardens they could hear the happy laughter and glee of children enjoying the rides and slides, and from their bench they could see the huge stone pond, where toy boats were being sailed.

Leandros undid the ribbons around the box of patisserie he’d been carefully carrying since they’d availed themselves of a convenient boulangerie after lunch. The good weather was holding, and he was glad, but autumn was on the way. The sun was not as warm, and the leaves of the trees in the gardens were visibly beginning to turn.

But for now it was pleasant—very pleasant indeed—to sit here, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles, his feet in comfortable trainers for all the walking he and Eliana were doing as they made their daily explorations of the city.

Contentment filled him. How could it not?

He smiled at Eliana. She was wearing lightweight trousers in dark blue, and a lightweight knit with a vee neck that showed off the delicate sculpture of her neck. Her hair was caught back with a barrette, her make-up only lip gloss and mascara. Yet his breath caught at her beauty.

With so much more than her beauty.

She was leaning forward, lifting the lid of the cardboard box holding the patisserie.

‘The religieuse for me,’ she said decisively, helping herself to the choux and crème confection, sinking her teeth into it as she sat back to enjoy what France was so famous for.

‘I’ll take the mille-feuille,’ Leandros said, and did so.

They consumed their indulgences companionably. But then they did everything companionably. And so much more than merely companionably...

As if the last six years had never been. As if this truly were our honeymoon—the one we should have had together.

Shadows flickered in his eyes.

But she hadn’t wanted that—hadn’t wanted a honeymoon with him.

So why now? This time with me?

He could not think it was for the reason he’d first put to her. Not any longer. How could it be? She’d refused to let him buy any more clothes for her. Refused, even more tellingly, when he’d stopped outside a jeweller’s and invited her to tell him what she liked best in the display.

‘But I want to get you something—a souvenir from Paris,’ he’d said.

She’d only shaken her head, then taken his hand to continue their walk.

They were doing a lot of walking, seeing all the sights, and he was delighting in showing them to her—from the Eiffel Tower to the Pantheon, from Napoleon’s tomb to the Arc de Triomphe. They’d wandered through the Tuileries gardens and along the Champs-Elysées, strolled through the Latin Quarter, stopping for coffee at the cafés made famous by the French philosophes and intellectuals and artists, sampling the rich bounty of Paris’s art galleries... There was so much to see...impossible to do it all in just one visit.

He’d said as much over dinner one evening, at the restaurant he’d taken her to—one of the most renowned in Paris, to which she’d worn another of the evening gowns he’d chosen for her in a rich vermilion. It had taken his breath away when she’d emerged from her bedroom in all her splendour. The bedroom that was now really only her dressing room...serving no other purpose.

Because each night—each blissful night—she was his...completely his. Ardent and passionate, her desire matching his. Night after night.

‘There is still so much to see,’ he’d said to her that night across the candlelit table. ‘Too much for a single visit.’

Had it been the candlelight flickering on her face that had made it look shadowed? She hadn’t answered him, only smiled and praised the wine, lifted her glass.

He’d lifted his, and tilted it to her. ‘To our next visit,’ he had said.

Yet even as he’d said the words he’d wondered if he should. Wondered again now, as they emptied the box of patisserie between them.

This time with her—could it last? Should it last?

I wanted to bring her here to free myself of her.

Perhaps he should remember that...

He closed the empty box. The delights inside, those sweet indulgences, were all gone. Consumed.

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