Page 9 of The Billionaire's Demand

His expression hardened. He was done with dreams about Eliana. She’d destroyed them six years again—ripped them from him and trampled them into the mire. Now what he wanted from her was a lot more basic.

The taxi made its way out on to the seafront of the city, where there were any number of restaurants—Thessaloniki was the foodie capital of Greece. But tonight was not for gourmet dining—Eliana was hardly dressed for it—and the mid-range fish restaurant the taxi driver had recommended would do fine.

It was quiet at this early hour of the evening, and he chose a table far from the few other diners. Eliana was focussing on her menu, and Leandros knew she was doing so to avoid looking at him.

‘Made your decision?’ he asked.

She gave a start, naming one of the fish dishes, then looking away again. Leandros beckoned the waiter over, relayed their order, then ordered water, beer for himself, and a carafe of house red. The waiter headed off, returning a few moments later with the drinks order, and a basket of bread with some pats of butter.

Leandros reached for his beer, taking a long draught—he suddenly felt he needed it. Then he poured water and wine for them both.

‘Eliana—’

He said her name, and as if on auto-response her eyes went to him. And immediately veiled. Her hand jerked forward to take a piece of bread, which she then crumbled into pieces as if she were doing something to distract herself. She still looked strained...tense as a board. Yet for all that there was a haunting beauty about her. Haunting—and so, so familiar.

Emotions churned in him, but he fought them back. He didn’t want those emotions. They were from the past, and he wasn’t interested in the past any longer. He was immune to it and inured to it. It was just the present he was interested in—and the immediate future.

‘I expect you’re wondering why I’m here,’ he opened, helping himself to some bread and buttering it. ‘As I said, I have something to put to you.’

He glanced at her semi-covertly. Her expression did not change.

So he spoke again. Not prevaricating, or circling around, or delaying in any way. Cutting right to the chase—to the reason he was here.

‘I want you to come back to me,’ he said.

Eliana heard his words, but they did not register. It was impossible that they should do so. Her expression, veiled as it already was, froze. So did her fingers, pointlessly crumbling her piece of bread.

‘I am quite serious,’ he said.

His eyes were on her like weights. A weight she could not bear.

‘You can’t possibly be,’ she heard herself say, her voice faint, hardly audible.

A new expression crossed his face. He was cynical. She could see it in the slight twist to his mouth, the acid look in his eyes. Eyes so dark...so drowning...

‘And yet I am,’ he returned.

He reached for his wine glass, took a hefty slug, then resumed his regard of her.

‘Don’t get any ideas, however,’ he said. His voice held the same acidity as his eyes. ‘I want something a lot more limited this time.’ He paused ‘You’ll do well out of it, all the same.’ His eyes narrowed, sweeping over her. ‘You really have hit rock bottom, haven’t you? I’d heard old man Jonas hadn’t gone easy on you—but surely Damian left you something?’

If her face could have gone even more blank, it did. Then, with a tightness that was in her voice as well as her throat, she spoke.

‘Evidently not.’

He frowned. ‘Why not? Unless...’ That acid look was in his eye again...that cynical twist to his mouth. ‘Unless he had reason not to?’

She didn’t answer. It was none of his business, her marriage to Damian, and the years she had spent as his wife. Nor was what had happened after his untimely death. Nothing about her was any of his business any more...or his concern. Not that he felt any for her—that was obvious.

But why should he, after what I did to him?

And why, most of all, had he turned up here like this—said to her what he had...?

Waves of unreality were hitting her...slug after slug. How could she be here, sitting opposite Leandros, out of nowhere—absolutely nowhere? For all the desperate blankness in her eyes, they were still fastened on him. Her senses reeling.

Leandros—here—physically so close—

His face...the once so familiar features. His sable hair, his dark and gold-flecked eyes, the line of his jaw, his sculpted mouth, the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of his body... All here... All real...

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