Page 34 of The Billionaire's Demand

He went back into the bedroom. She was still lying there, bundled up beneath the quilt, still in a foetal position.

‘Your bath’s all run,’ he said.

He didn’t ask, only drew back the quilt, scooping her up in one smooth movement. She felt as light as a feather and, naked as she was, he felt her to be terrifyingly vulnerable. He kept his eyes from her, out of consideration, lowering her to her feet beside the fragrantly full bathtub. He turned away, not wanting her to have him seeing her vulnerable nakedness.

‘I’ll... I’ll leave you to it,’ he said uncertainly, not knowing what else to do. A thought struck him. ‘There’s a shower cap, if you don’t want your hair to get wet...’

He closed the bathroom door, left her in peace and privacy. His thoughts were still all over the place, his emotions even more so. Disbelief was still uppermost, and things were rearranging themselves inside his head—things he had thought for six long years that now needed to be re-examined. Understood...

What kind of marriage did she have?

Obviously, not the kind that he had thought she had. Not the one that everyone else had thought she had. There had never been a whisper of Damian Makris’s sexual orientation that he had known of. But then... His expression darkened. With a domineering father like Damian’s, being gay was something no son would freely admit.

Did she know beforehand?

That was the question that burned now. The question he had to know the answer to—had to.

Because if she’d known...

Then she didn’t leave me for another man—not in that way. Not in the way that lacerated me, carved knives into my flesh...my heart...

His face hardened. The woman he had once loved might have walked into a celibate marriage, but that didn’t exonerate her for her decision. She had still married Damian for his money.

Rejecting me because she thought I would be poor and she couldn’t face poverty.

It was that that had shown her true nature. Her true character. That was all he must remember about her.

And yet...

Even with the Makris wealth to give her a luxury lifestyle she can hardly have been happy in that marriage. Having a father-in-law holding her at fault for his lack of grandchildren when all along it was his son who had borne the responsibility for it.

Had Damian let her take the blame? Shoulder his father’s ire and disappointment?

So that after Damian’s death old Jonas had thrown her out of the family, cut her off with nothing?

He frowned again. And if she hadn’t been cut off like that...

Would she be here with me now?

The question forced its way into his head—demanding an answer. An answer he did not want to give. To face.

An answer he did not have.

Last night she tried to come to me like some sacrificial victim, making me feel bad about what I was demanding of her. Yet tonight...

He gazed blindly at the closed door of the en suite bathroom.

Tonight she was a different woman...

He felt emotion buckle through him, confusion and conflict. He turned away, busying himself straightening the bedclothes, tidying the pillows. His eyes went again to the slight telltale stain on the sheet. He should strip the bed.

Instead, he only pulled the quilt over it, smoothing it flat. They would sleep on that. And under the one in her bedroom, which he’d fetch now.

He halted. Would she want to spend the rest of the night with him? His expression changed again with his changing thoughts. He wanted her with him. It was why he had brought her to Paris. Not for her to sleep alone, away from him. Not any longer.

Not now.

He strode out, walked into her bedroom, lifted the quilt up and then, as well, scooping up her nightdress. It was only a cheap garment, with a popular chain store label in it, but if she’d feel more comfortable wearing it tonight—well, that was understandable.

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