Page 7 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

This was getting way out of hand. “Stop.” Vasilios grunted. “I own this place but you know very well I consider it to be yours. It always has been.” His voice was hoarse; Vasilios cleared his throat. It wasn’t Costa’s fault that Ricardo had mismanaged things so badly.

“Then please show the respect of not interrogating me.” The words were loaded with fire but Costa was obviously weakened, aged, dying. Vasilios’s chest felt heavy.

“I do not want to see you hurt,” he admitted finally. “Or be taken advantage of.”

“Emma asks me for nothing,” Costa said with a shake of his head.Yet,Vasilios couldn’t help adding mentally. “And gives so much. Do not ruin things with her, Vas. I am begging you. Just let it go.”

Vasilios ground his teeth, acknowledging that outwardly he had to at least appear to meet that demand. Inwardly, though, he knew he wouldn’t sleep until he got to the bottom of their relationship—and discovered for himself the reason the mysterious Emma didn’t want to sign a lease. Surely that could mean only one thing: she was running from something, or someone.

And she’d run right to Costa. And put him in danger?

Vasilios shrugged his shoulders, conveying an air of non-concern. “It’s your life.”

“Yes, that’s right. Such as it is.”

Which neatly brought Vasilios back to the reason for his visit. “Tell me about the cancer,nonno.”It was a term of address that Vasilios hadn’t used in many long years, but it had simply slipped off his tongue in that moment.

He settled back, prepared to hear it all from his grandfather’s perspective but not two moments later, Emma appeared, coffee cup in hand, tart smile on her face. Vasilios didn’t shy away from the anger in her eyes, instead, he studied her impassively, more sure than ever that she was using Costa in some way, more determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Thank you,” he murmured, reaching for the cup. She hesitated a moment—perhaps imagining throwing it at his head—then handed it over, careful to hold it between her fingertips so as to avoid any prolonged contact with Vasilios.

As though a single touch might poison her in some way.

It was certainly a novel way to be treated by a woman—in Vasilios’s experience, it was far more normal for women to be flirting with him, batting their lashes and suggesting he accompany them home.

“Emma and I are going for a walk after breakfast.” Costa changed subject abruptly. “Would you care to join us?”

Vasilios dragged his gaze back to his grandfather. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We don’t go far,” Emma was quick to insert.

“And not fast either,cara,eh?” Costa said with a chuckle that quickly devolved into a cough. In a lightning-fast reaction, Emma reached for the water cup and lifted it to Costa’s lips, so he took a sip, and when he had stopped coughing, gave Emma a grateful smile.

It didn’t matter what the nature of their relationship was, precisely, it was clear they operated like a well-oiled machine. Vasilios had the strangest sense he was watching two people who’d begun to anticipate one another’s needs. Or at least, one person who’d begun to anticipate another’s. Costa was probably as self-obsessed as ever, seeing women as entirely dispensable objects that existed purely for his convenience.

Or did he?

The older man had made it clear he was prepared to go into bat for Emma’s remaining in the pool house. Which meant what? That he really cared for her? Or that he wanted to irk Vasilios? It was not out of the bounds of possibility that the older man had simply seen a way to aggravate Vasilios and was enjoying bucking Vasilios’s very sensible wishes.

“I have to work,” Vasilios said with a small shake of his head, scraping back his chair. He saw the way Emma’s chest moved, as though heaving out a breath she’d been holding. Relief.

She didn’t want him.

Something strange shifted right in the very centre of his chest. Surprise?

Because he was used to being chased? Wanted? Adored? Coveted?

He’d never asked for that kind of attention. Never particularly welcomed it either.

Vasilios was a man assured enough in his own skin to exist perfectly contentedly without the adoration of a woman. And yet…he had noticed, become accustomed to even, a level of a desire.

And the fact Emma was so clearly wanting to wash her hands of him?

It was…refreshing.

A challenge.

He shifted his gaze to her and let it linger, until she finally gave in and looked in his direction. Their eyes met and the challenge strengthened, exploded, overtook every cell in his body.

---