Page 11 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

He strode from his office, repeating his mantra that sometimes it was necessary to be cruel to be kind.

Emma couldn’t have said if it was the sound of the splash that woke her or the feeling of water droplets landing across her legs, but either way, she startled and became immediately aware of several things, all at once. She’d drifted off, and there was a heavy sense of disorientation initially that suggested she’d fallen into a deep sleep—for a moment she could barely even remember where she was, let alone what time of day or night. For a moment, she was back in Sydney, at Jack’s parents’ pool, smiling, pretending everything was normal, when inside a cold sense of dread was gradually taking over her body. And then, reality shifted, reminding her of all that had come after—the murder, the blood, the trial, the danger, and her hands became clammy, her face pale, her body covered in goosebumps so she had to focus hard on breathing, in, out, in, out, just like her therapist had taught her, and then, finally, she focussed—on the man in the pool, so familiar to her despite the fact they barely knew each other.

Vasilios Valenti, powerful arms dragging him through the water, from one end to the other and back again, his head turning to suck in air then dipping under water, his legs kicking hard and fast. He moved like an athlete, and also like a dancer, with a lithe athleticism that did something funny to her central nervous system.

He did several laps and belatedly, Emma realised she’d had time to escape, that she reallyneededto escape, because the last thing her frazzled nerves needed was another confrontation with this man. So why didn’t she?

Why was she sitting there as though superglue had been applied to her seat?

With a small sound of alacrity, she stood, and it was then that he stopped, making her wonder if he’d been watching her all along. He moved now with an almost predatory determination, striding to the edge of the pool and pressing his forearms to the coping, a study in relaxation, except for his eyes, that were far too analytical.

“Care to join me?”

The question caught her completely off guard. Almost as much as her reaction. Was that temptation? Longing?

It had nothing to do with Vasilios, she assured herself hotly. Emma quite liked an afternoon swim. Who wouldn’t? The water was warm, the view exquisite, the pleasure of sinking into the pool after a busy day truly refreshing.

But with Vasilios? She shook her head quickly. “I’m fine, thank you.” The words sounded so prim and proper. Emma made no attempt to soften them.

“Are you sure?” His eyes narrowed and she felt as though he was seeing far, far too much of her. She compressed her lips.

“Of course.” She stood abruptly.

“You don’t look fine.”

The last thing she was expecting was for Vasilios to pull himself from the water but he did exactly that with trademark physical strength, his arms bulging with spectacularly muscular definition that was highlighted by the rivulets of pool water running over his skin. His skin, oh, his skin. Honey coloured all over, he wore only a pair of turquoise swimming trunks—somehow she would have thought, if she’d put any thought into it at all, that he would be the kind of man to wear black or grey. These were bright, and clung to him like a second skin, reminding her of what she alreadyknewbecause she’d seen him naked, and was well aware that he was particularly well-endowed.

Ohmygod.She wanted to scratch out her eyes. Why on earth was she thinking about his size? Mortification had heat bursting through her cheeks.

“Emma?” His voice was solicitous. It was another shock, another unexpected action from this man who’d been nothing but rude to her since arriving.

“What do you care?” She couldn’t help asking, her eyes lancing him accusingly.

His frown was reflexive—there and then gone again, just as quickly. “Did you have a bad dream?” He asked, then, moving a little closer, so she could smell pool water and something else, something hyper masculine and exotic. “Or was it a very good dream?” He prompted, his eyes probing, teasing, speculating, so she gasped, because it was almost as if he’d read her mind. The direction of her thoughts had been very x-rated, and that was the last thing she wanted him to know.

“None of your business,” she snapped.

“Another evasion? This seems to be your go-to.”

If only he knew! Emmawasevasive; she had to be. Before Jack had died, it had been because of his job. Now, it was because of his death, the circumstances of it. She didn’t know who she could trust and so trusted almost no one. Mentally, she thought of the minuscule list of people she knew she could still rely on: her lawyer, the senior sergeant from Jack’s squad, and Jack’s family—his parents and his twin sisters, Audrey and Beatrice. And now, Costa. That wasn’t very many people but at least amongst that small number there was some safety.

“I thought I told you, I’ve had enough of you for one day?”

He laughed then, tilting his head back, so she stared at him, all her breath rushing out of her body at the sight of him so relaxed and content. He was beautiful, truly mesmerisingly beautiful when he laughed.

“Perhaps you have,” he said, looking at her once more, “but that’s a shame, as I was hoping we could start over.”

“Start over?” She repeated, yet again surprised.

“You’re clearly important to my grandfather, and I have no intention of going anywhere soon. So doesn’t it make sense to work out how to get along?”

She stared at him.

“You look as though I’m talking in riddles.”

“Well, you kind of are. I mean…you obviously had no intention of getting along with me this morning.”

“I’ve had time to reflect.”

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