Page 5 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

“I can get it myself,” he responded, right behind her.

“No, no,” she didn’t stop, didn’t turn around, didn’t dare look at him. “You stay and chat with your grandfather.” God knew she could use a little breathing room. But then, she made the fatal mistake of tilting her head, of casting a glance in Vasilios’s direction, as if to assure herself he wasn’t following, and she saw him up close in a way she hadn’t the night before. Shock had blinded her, fear had made her senses both sharp and dull. Now she looked at him andsawthe man and felt a twisting, pulsing throb of awareness writhing inside her body. His eyes were the most fascinating shade of brown—dark and stormy yet with glimpses of gold in the outer rim, and his eyes were so thickly rimmed with dark, curling lashes, it was almost as if he wore mascara, or had just been for a swim.

“It appears to be a one-sided conversation. My grandfather will not answer my questions any more than you will,” Vasilios said with a narrowing of those beautiful eyes, a pressing of his full, wide lips, so Emma’s pulse did a strange little jerk and the blood in her veins almost exploded.

She didn’t know what to say to that. Her role in Costa’s life was no secret, despite what Vasilios might think. They’d found one another by accident, and it had evolved quite without planning or forethought, but it was all very above board. She worked for him, he let her live here. Costa didn’t know why she was in Italy, why she’d fled her native Sydney, Australia, nor what trauma lay in her past, but he’d seemed to understand she was wounded in some way, and he’d wanted to help. Just as she’d wanted to help him. A lot of people had let Emma down, but not Costa. She’d always be grateful that they’d met and become friends.

She wouldn’t let Vasilios tarnish that relationship in any way.

Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to make her body spin away, to head back into the kitchen, but her legs wouldn’t move and her eyes, her damned, faithless eyes, were glued to his face as though he held the answer to every question the universe might ever dare to pose.

“I—,” But what had she been going to say? Was it that Emma simply wanted to fill the silence that sparked between them?

His eyes narrowed a little further. “I can see why he hired you,” Vasilios said after a pause, his lips tilting downwards. “But you should heed my warning: he will leave you nothing. I will not allow it. If you are operating under the mistaken belief that a relationship with a dying man will afford you some kind of lottery-like inheritance—,”

She gasped, the thought so offensive and shocking it genuinely rattled every bone in her body.

Grinding her teeth together, Emma took a second to calm her nerves before spitting with all the contempt she could muster, “Your grandfather gives me many things, and I don’t mean in the financial sense.” Nostrils flaring, outrage and indignity like flames in her belly, she was finally galvanised into action. Spinning, she stalked away from the horrible man and into the house, seeking the cool solace of the kitchen to mentally purge his accusations from her mind.

There was no mistaking her reaction. She’d been furious and disgusted by his assertion. Or were these the responses of a guilty conscience? He had no idea how long the beautiful young woman had been installed in Vasilios’ home, but it was clear she’d developed a close relationship with the old man. Knowing Costa as he did, it was impossible to believe there wasn’t at least some attraction between them, even if it was solely on Costa’s side. But did that mean her reason for being here was as innocent as she seemed to suggest?

Frowning, he returned to the table, sitting opposite his grandfather and regarding him for several beats. The older man stared Vasilios in the eye, arrogance in every line of his face. It was a face so familiar to Vasilios—not only because he knew his grandfather so well, but because they were so alike. Costa looked away first, jaw set in a determined angle as he looked in the direction of the sparkling ocean.

“So? Who is she?”

“Emma.”

“Yes, I have learned her name. But why is she here?”

Costa turned back to Vasilios. “Why not?”

Years of experience made it easy for Vasilios to conceal his inner-most thoughts; his face remained impassive. “You don’t tolerate live-in staff.”

Costa grunted.

“Which leads me to believe she isn’t really working for you.”

Costa’s eyes narrowed. “You are wrong, Vasilios.”

“Then what role does she fulfil?”

“She is my…companion,” Costa said after a slight pause that sent alarm bells ringing in Vasilios’s mind.

“I see,” he said, without giving his concern away. “And why exactly do you suddenly require a companion?”

Costa’s lips compressed in a line every bit as flat and disapproving as Vasilios’s could be.

“Suffice it to say, we have a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Vasilios leaned forward. “She doesn’t seem to be aware of the financial structure of things.”

“You mean that all this,” Costa waved a hand towards the terrace, “is yours and not mine?”

Despite the accuracy of that statement, Vasilios felt a momentary blade of compunction. He had not come here to upset the old man. “I only mean that she might be under the misapprehension that a relationship with you could be more profitable than is in fact the case.”

“A relationship?” Costa’s laugh was airy. “Look at me.Look.”

Vasilios did look, and his chest felt as though a tonne of cement was pressing down on it. “I am old, and tired. You’re here because the doctor called you—you know my prognosis.”

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