Page 27 of Husband for the Holidays

Making it worse, he knew exactly what was in her mind.

“Who were you dreaming about?” he asked in a voice that sounded as though it originated in the bottom of his chest.

She flinched and was finally able to drop her gaze. “I don’t want to say.”

“Why not? I won’t be angry.”

Did he really imagine it could be anyone but him? She rolled her lips together, deeply culpable as she lifted a painful glance that was so revealing it made her cheeks and throat hurt.

She heard his sharp inhale, then Ghaliya bustled back.

“This one or...? Oh.Je m’excuse.I’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured and turned away, trying to escape whatever charged air was between them.

“No. We’re expected for lunch,” Konstantin said. “Has my assistant given you everything you need?”

“Oui. Merci.” Ghaliya gave him a warm smile of appreciation. “And Mademoiselle Eloise has my card if she needs anything else. This one would be better, I think,” she added to Eloise, offering the shorter jacket.

Konstantin took it to hold it for her, making her feel clumsy as she threaded her arms into the sleeves.

She waited until they were in the car to say, “Thank you for all of this.” She waved from hair to shoes. She was genuinely grateful, feeling more confident and less like a petitioner begging for handouts. “Will you please send me the invoice? I know I’m a long way from paying you back, but—”

“And risk breaking your phone?” Konstantin drawled. He plucked something from the console between them and offered it. “This is for you, by the way.”

It was a new phone, one that was already activated. It was even in a pretty brushed gold case that had a designer’s initials etched into it.

“Pleasedon’t put me this far into your debt,” she bemoaned, tucking her fists into her lap rather than accept it.

“You’re being ridiculous. My number is in there. I expect you to use it whenever you need something.” He dropped the device into her lap.

She caught it so it wouldn’t slip to the floor, then found his number along with a second one for someone namedNemo, whoever that was. She texted Konstantin.

Please send me a copy of the invoice.

His phone dinged and he glanced at it, sighed, then sent her a flat look. “I only argue about things that matter, Eloise. This topic is closed.”

“I’ll ask Ghaliya, then.” She opened the faux snakeskin clutch to search out the stylist’s card.

“It’s agift. What was that twelve days of nonsense you were doing? Consider it that.” He flicked his hand as though it were inconsequential.

“Goody. Seven more days of this?” She pressed her hands to her sandwiched phone and smiled with sarcastic excitement.

“Yes. Now I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Oh, this man. She bit back arguing further, though. The car was turning into the gates of her mother’s villa and the butterflies in her stomach became a swarm of bees that moved into her chest. She dropped the phone into her clutch and rubbed her damp palm onto her skirt.

Konstantin’s hand came across to capture hers. He frowned at how cold her fingers were.

“It will be fine. I promise.”

She wanted to believe him so she nodded as though she did.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ACCORDINGTOTHEreports Konstantin had received from his assistant, Ilias’s mother had stayed in Athens for the first year after Ilias died. Then she had begun traveling with friends, dating a number of men before attaching herself to Antoine. They had dated, became engaged, then moved to Nice once they married. They’d been here three years.

Her new husband had money, yes, but none of it had been earned through any serious effort on his part. He had inherited a modest fortune at eighteen from an aunt. He then married one of his aunt’s friends, an older woman with a heart condition. She had passed within a few years, leaving Antoine a tidy sum that allowed him to penetrate higher social circles. The next time he married, it was a French pop star. She divorced him fairly quickly, granting him a shockingly large settlement on his way out the door. That suggested to Konstantin that she’d done whatever necessary to get him out of her life.

After that, he’d had a string of long-term relationships with wealthy women of an appropriate age, all well-placed in Europe’s highest social circles. He was the sort of man who thought he should have been born an aristocrat and would have been the worst kind if he had.

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