Page 43 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

“You don’t like the city?”

“I’ve never been.” And naturally she was excited to go. “It’s one of those cities I’ve heard so much about, seen endless footage and photos of in movies and TV shows and books and magazines, but it wasn’t even on my radar to go there myself. I don’t know why,” she said, realising belatedly that she was rambling.

“You’ll love it.”

She nodded, sure she would, and before Vasilios broke away from her, he kissed her lightly on the lips. “See you later tonight.” Then, he was gone.

* * *

They left early the next morning. Costa’s hospital admission had been set for ten in the morning, so allowing for flight time and commute, they’d needed to leave after a very light breakfast.

Costa woke in good spirits and even better health. His mobility had improved enough for him to do some walking on his own, though the chair was brought, and his walking stick, and once they’d boarded Vasilios’s private jet, Costa settled himself in one of the comfortable armchairs and fell asleep.

Emma worried about him a little, made sure he was warm by spreading a blanket over his lap, and then found she had nothing to do but take the seat next to Vasilios and enjoy the experience of being with him like this, in his private jet, on a trip to Paris. It would have been so easy to pretend that this was all real. Real in the sense of lasting, or at least with the possibility of a future, with the likelihood that they might actually develop feelings for one another and work out a way to spend more time together. Maybe even forever?

The thought of that made her head explode.

Forever! What a terrifying idea. Obviously that’s what most people hoped for when they committed to marry, but for Emma, having found herself trapped in a marriage she’d wanted to escape almost immediately, there was no pleasure in contemplating that kind of commitment.

She’d grown up and learned her lesson the hard way.

This was a fantasy. A fun fantasy, but an experience not remotely based in reality. Even if she didn’t have the emotional hang ups that characterised her interpersonal relationships, Vasilios had more than enough of his own to make any kind of authentic connection impossible.

She was better not to get carried away in imagining things that weren’t there, and simply allow herself to eke every moment of pleasure from this as she could.

“So,” he asked, brushing his fingers over her knee. “What would you like to see in Paris?”

“I haven’t even thought about it,” she confessed with a laugh. “I’m not a very good tourist, am I?”

“Just as well I have prepared a plan, then,” he grinned.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him arranging anything particular, just for her. But of course, that was just Vasilios’s way. He was a planner, organised, naturally an authority on almost anything.

“So tell me, what will we be doing?”

He opened his mouth then closed it, grinned, leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Wait and be surprised.”

It took less than half an hour for Costa to be admitted to the small, state-of-the-art oncology centre in the heart of Paris. Emma doubted it would be quite so streamlined for everybody, but from the moment Vasilios had swept through the glass sliding doors, the staff had bent over backwards to treat him almost like a God, and Costa and Emma were caught up in all of Vasilios’s reflected glory. Costa’s room had a view of the Eiffel tower and there were two dedicated nurses to take care of him and move him from room to room as necessary for tests and consultations. The medical staff were extremely kind but made it clear that guests weren’t welcome in the treatment centre outside of visiting hours—even a VIP like Vasilios.

Still, as they left the hospital, Emma couldn’t shake the feeling they were playing hooky.

“What’s wrong?” Vasilios was somehow, irritatingly, immediately aware of her hesitation.

“It’s just—it feels weird to leave him,” she said with a lift of her shoulders.

“He’s in some of the best hands in the world, quite literally.”

“It’s not that.” She wrinkled her nose. “I feel like I’m ditching school or something. I think it’s because this is all so secret,” she added, gesturing from him to her.

Vasilios stopped walking and wrapped his arms around her again. Out of nowhere, Emma realised how much she loved that he did that. Whenever he wanted to talk to her seriously, to try to convince her of something, he bundled her into a hug and held her close, as if needing their physical connection to underscore whatever words he was about to employ.

“Would you prefer to tell him about us?”

Us.

The word rolled through her like a tumbleweed, leaving panic in its path. “There is no us, really,” she said with a quick shake of her head, needing to hold onto that certainty as well as to enforce it to him.

Vasilios was all too quick to agree, yet Emma’s sense of panic didn’t dissipate. “Exactly. So why bother discussing it with Costa?”

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