Page 46 of The Billionaire's Demand

No answers came—or only one, to which he now returned.

He wanted to be with her as he had been today—easy, peaceable...companionable.

Nothing more than that.

Nothing less.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE WALL-HUNG TV blazed with a last burst of colour and declared The End. Robin Hood and his Maid Marian had just ridden off into their personal sunset. The choice of film had been mutual, and just right. A colourful swashbuckler, traditional Hollywood, as familiar as it was enjoyable.

Eliana stretched her legs from being curled up under her on the sofa. Beside her, but not too close, Leandros sat lounging back, long legs extended, crossed at the ankles, picking at the last of the petits fours on the coffee table.

He turned towards her.

Smilingly.

‘Daft, but fun,’ he said.

She gave a light laugh. ‘Definitely,’ she agreed.

Her gaze lingered on him a moment, eyes veiled, as if she was self-conscious suddenly, and then she reached for her wine glass. They had eaten a leisurely dinner, and had been finishing off the luscious dessert wine since they’d repaired to the sofa. The mood that had prevailed since their outing to Giverny still held, and Eliana was glad of it. Yet a sadness of sorts plucked at her. Leandros had wanted a different answer to the question he had put to her. Different from the one she had given him: that she would make the same choice again as she had six years ago.

I can’t undo the past.

His voice echoed in her head. ‘Things change, Eliana.’

But the past did not change. What had been true then was still true. And her feelings too. Feelings she could never smother or deny, though they would only bring her yet more heartache in the end.

So be content with this—with what is here and now.

‘Fancy watching anything else?’ Leandros asked in an easy tone.

She gave a shake of her head, finishing the last of her sweet wine and getting to her feet.

‘Time for bed,’ she said lightly.

Did something flicker in his eyes? If it did, she discounted it. ‘Separate bedrooms’ he had said, and she knew he had said it out of concern for her, after the debacle of the night before. But that would not be. That would not be at all.

She gave a secret smile, but poignant. The past was gone. The future was impossible. Only the present was hers.

And that was what she would claim and give to him.

Give to us both.

And she would hold it in her heart against the long, empty years ahead, when Paris was over and done with and this precious time with Leandros would be nothing more than a memory...

Leandros clicked off the TV, his gaze following Eliana as she retreated to her bedroom. He did not want her to do so, but he had given his word.

Memory came. Tormentingly. He sought to hold it back. He would not—must not—recall the night before...recall the feel of her naked body beneath his, her eager mouth, the sensual white-out of his instantly inflamed passion, his desire...

The bedroom door shut behind her, and he got to his feet. Sitting beside her as they’d watched the ancient Hollywood film had been both good...and bad. Good to be so close to her—bad to be so close to her. She’d sat curled up, relaxed, her hair falling from its chignon, the soft drape of her dress shaping her breasts...

It had been hard to focus on the swashbuckling going on onscreen. Hard to think of her now, in her bedroom, removing her dress, loosening her hair...

He snatched up the coffee tray and the wine glasses, taking them through into the kitchen. Busying himself, he washed them up to give him something to do—something to stop him thinking about the rashness of promising Eliana ‘separate bedrooms’, even though that had been the only decent thing to do after the debacle of the previous night.

Leaving the cups and glasses on the draining board, he headed to his own room. He would take a shower—tonight he definitely would.

---