Page 32 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

“So Costa doesn’t pay you?”

She shook her head. “I’m his guest.”

Vasilios’s brows knit together. “Your accommodation is in lieu of a wage?”

Another involuntary smile that arrested Vasilios’s eyes on her lips in a way that stirred Emma’s pulse to fever pitch. “My accommodation is really one person doing a favour for another.”

He expelled a slow breath. “Because you weren’t willing to sign a formal lease?”

She pulled her lips to the side, carefully considering her response then lifting her shoulders. Her fingers moved to the necklace she wore and dragged the pretty little charm from one side to the other. “Yes,” she said, sipping her Prosecco. The bubbles were strong and the temperature ice cold. She allowed herself a moment to savour the deliciousness of it before expanding on her initial response. Perhaps being more honest with Vasilios would remove the last vestiges of his suspicions? Two days ago, Emma wouldn’t have cared what Vasilios thought but for some reason, she didn’t want him to see her relationship with Costa in a negative light. Perhaps because of what he’d shared with her, about his own upbringing?

“And also, because I was alone, and suddenly, I wanted to not be.” She shrugged again. “Your grandfather is both persistent and persuasive. I tried really hard not to like him, not to let him like me,” she said with a nostalgic shake of her head, “but he kept coming back, kept sitting with me, waiting for me to open up to him. He was easy to be around, and before I even realised what was happening, I did like him. I depended on seeing him each day. I found myself going to the same seat at the same time, because I knew he’d be there, waiting for me. And then, he began to bring us gelato. We didn’t really talk all that much, certainly not about anything important, but we got to know each other all the same, and when I mentioned that I’d be leaving Puglia soon, he was quiet. Reflective. The next day, he offered me lodgings for as long as I wanted them.”

“And you accepted,” Vasilios murmured.

Emma didn’t answer straight away, as their entrees were brought out—half a lobster with garlic butter for Emma and fishcrudofor Vasilios.

She pressed a fork into the lobster, removing some, contemplating. “I didn’t accept straight away, actually. I was reluctant.”

“Why?”

She bit into her lip. “I hate being in anyone’s debt.”

Something like approval moved in Vasilios’s expression before he could tamp down on it. Emma saw it and her insides churned with pleasure.

“But you overcame this objection?”

“Your grandfather pointed out that as he wouldn’t be paying me a salary, and expected me to help him as his mobility fails, it would be almost an unfair deal.”

Vasilios nodded. “He’s not wrong. You do a lot for him.”

“I enjoy it.”

“Hence my first presumption was that you had worked as a nurse.”

“Looking after a room full of primary kids is a job that involves a look of caring too.”

“And I imagine you’re very good at it.”

Happiness burst through Emma at his compliment but she took care not to reveal that.

“Will you go back to that line of work, after this…holiday?”

Holiday? She shuddered. Such a misnomer. This was a trip of escape first and recovery second. There was nothing vacation-like about it.

“Probably,” she said with a lift of her shoulders.

“But you don’t need to,” he prompted.

She lifted a brow, encouraging him to continue.

“You don’t need the money of regular work?”

“Isn’t that a little personal?”

He took a long drink of Prosecco and replaced the glass between them. Under the table, his legs kicked out, between hers, perhaps by accident, or perhaps because he wanted to be near her. Either way, she felt a sharp shock of awareness that almost made it impossible to say anything else.

“I don’t think so.”

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