Page 20 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

“Wonder what?” She prompted, in spite of herself.

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

She flinched and danger sirens blared loudly, impossible to ignore.

“No one. Nothing. You’re imagining things.”

He was quiet a moment, ruminating. “I don’t think so.”

She turned her attention to the scallops. “These are really very good, you should have one.”

While it was reasonably clear he wanted to continue their conversation, he let it go, following her lead and reaching for a scallop, and for the next two courses, they kept conversation light by mutual yet unspoken agreement, discussing primarily the history of the area and the more famous sights, many of which Emma had visited in her first two weeks in Puglia.

But as their desserts were brought and coffees ordered—necessary for Emma who’d enjoyed two generous glasses of wine and was feeling a little light headed—Vasilios propped an elbow on the table, eyes boring into hers. He’d barely touched his first glass of wine, she realised belatedly, and there was a blinding clarity in his gaze.

“Why did you decide to come to Puglia?”

She knew she should be careful.

She knew shehadto be careful, but she was relaxed and full of delicious food and wine—even her eyes had feasted on the lovely, relaxed setting of Gianni’s traditional trattoria. It was hard to hold onto the dangers of her past when she was sitting here, and particularly when she was opposite Vasilios. Without realising it, Emma had come to think of him as someone with special protective powers. Which was, of course, ridiculous. He was just a man, and no man on earth could necessarily protect her. Perhaps from the men who’d been in the gang responsible for her husband’s death, but not from all that grief and pain. She didn’t ever want to feel that again.

On autopilot, her hand pressed to her flat stomach, remembering what it had been like to know there was life growing there, to anticipate their baby’s arrival, to lose herself in the pleasant imaginings and predictions of a future that was never to be.

“Emma?”

She shifted her attention back to his face then wished she hadn’t when her stomach dropped to her toes. “I had friends of a friend here. Well, not here, actually, which is sort of the point. They were on holiday, so their home was empty and they were happy to let me stay in it.”

He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that was all calculation, and far too thoughtful. Emma didn’t notice, and despite her intention to remain hands off, to keep some distance between them, she continued speaking.

“I loved it,” she said quietly. “From the moment I arrived, I felt so strangely at home. Maybe it’s the anonymity,” she said with a lift of her shoulders. “Or maybe it’s just the beauty of the place. I met your grandfather soon after I arrived in Puglia. To be honest, I wasn’t in the mood to meet anybody, but perhaps he sensed I needed a friend, because he was persistent.”

Vasilios’s lips flattened, briefly, into a line of condemnation but then his expression returned to one of neutrality. “It sounds as though he needed a friend, too.”

Emma reached across the table, beyond their plates of tiramisu, to put her hand on Vasilios’s. It was something she would never have done, were it not for the food, wine, and hours of conversation. But also, their legs had brushed beneath the table multiple times throughout their lunch, and on each occasion, Emma had felt as though a thousand volts of electricity was being shunted into her bloodstream. Touching him now felt like a test, but of what?

“Why did you stay away so along?” She asked, squeezing his hand as if to convince him to be honest with her.

He was quiet, lost in thought, his square jaw clenched, his body tense.

“You said you’d answer my questions,” she reminded him, moving to pull away, but he flipped his hand over and caught hers, laced their fingers together, so she gasped, because it was so simple and somehow, so sensual. The sight of their fingers, his so masculine and hers so familiar, set a kaleidoscope of butterflies loose in her belly.

“I am tempted to tell you that I work hard, and have little time to come back to Puglia these days, but you’ve heard what my summers here were like, so perhaps you’d see through that?” He moved his thumb to trace the soft flesh on the back of her hand. A shiver ran the length of Emma’s spine. “I will always admire and respect Costa for certain things, but our relationship is not an easy one.”

“There are things you can’t forgive,” she prompted gently.

“To forgive implies that I harbour ongoing resentment. I don’t. It’s more that I can’t forget. This is my home, I know that, and yet…Summers here were not passed happily, Emma.”

Sympathy softened her features. She looked at him and the air between them seemed to spark with the very same electricity that was exploding in her blood. From the first moment she’d met Vasilios, she’d been far too aware of him as a man. It hadn’t helped that he’d been naked! But sitting here like this, he wasn’t just an overtly masculine specimen, but someone she found herself…wanting. Really wanting.

A small gasp fell from her lips and she pulled her hand away—this time, he let her, and disappointment was a wave, crashing over her. Beneath the table, she rubbed one hand over the other, her eyes averted now, so she missed the moment Vasilios waved for the bill.

Gianni appeared a moment later, full of loud, joyous conversation, wanting to know what they’d thought of the food, how they’d enjoyed their meal, and it took all of Emma’s focus to be able to speak and act normally when she had the monumental weight of lusting after Vasilios to contend with.

Outside, finally, in the sunshine, the spell didn’t break as she’d hoped. If anything, it was worse here. He stood close to her, and he smelled so good, her whole body tingled and her knees swayed a little, trying to push her forward, towards him, to close the last remaining inches of distance.

“Thank you for lunch,” she murmured, forcing herself to meet his eyes then.

He moved closer, just a step, looking at her as though he could see right through her. She shivered.

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