Page 9 of Greek's Temporary Cinderella

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...

She felt faint with it—with the scent of his aftershave, still the same as she remembered...

Jerkily, she reached for her wine. She needed it.

His face had tightened.

‘Looks like you got your just desserts,’ he said now, as she stayed silent. ‘You married him for money, and now you haven’t got it.’

She still said nothing. There was nothing she could or would tell him.

Their food was arriving and she was grateful. Hungrily, she got stuck into her fish, and Leandros did too.

‘So, my offer to you...’ he opened, as he started eating. ‘I want you to come to Paris with me.’

His voice was brisk, without expression. But Eliana stopped eating, eyes fastening on him. Emotion knifed through her before she could stop it.

Paris—the destination that had been going to be their honeymoon...

Leandros was still speaking in that brisk, expressionless tone of voice.

‘I have to go there on business next week. I want you to come with me.’

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