Fotis spent the rest of the day in his own company. After the debacle at the couturier, and a stop at a famous store to buy a beribboned gift box of macarons, they’d returned to the house. He’d been with the princess only long enough to see her make a salad before she disappeared to eat in her room and spend the afternoon there.
He’d been startled by her easy competence in the kitchen, whipping up a dressing and deftly chopping ingredients as if it were second nature.
What surprised him even more was that she’d left half the salad for him to save him getting his own lunch. Even now he found it hard to credit. She’d barely looked at him as she moved around the big kitchen, absorbed in her own thoughts.
Or determined to ignore the staff.
Yet the unexpected gesture was surprisingly generous. How did that fit with the spoiled persona?
Curious, he’d dug into the salad and found it surprisingly tasty.
There was that word again.Surprising.Fotis didn’t like surprises. He preferred answers.
He’d spent much of the afternoon searching for more information on the woman he’d been blackmailed into minding. But there’d been nothing new, no startling revelations.
There were inevitable photos of her as a cute child, looking docile at grand events. A touching photo of her as a slender young girl at her mother’s funeral. Then, when she was seventeen, a slew of behind-the-scenes snaps. Draped in the arms of a good-looking boy a few years older. Being helped out of a sports car, laughing in a barely-there dress, long legs on full display, wearing a smile that hinted at inebriation. Some that were more scandalous. Persistent stories of wild parties and decadent behaviour.
After that she’d been more circumspect. But always in the background were reports of her busy love life, her penchant for sophisticated parties and refusal to settle down. She had no job other than as a royal presence at various events and she lived off the royal purse.
Princess Rosamund seemed to have no aspirations to do anything to further herself.
She was another addicted to the privileges of wealth.
Memory conjured a woman with flashing dark eyes. His mother had a siren’s ability to make you feel special. For as long as you had something she wanted. But behind the beauty was a corroded soul, interested only in her own pleasure.
With brutal efficiency Fotis shoved aside thoughts of his mother. He shrugged his shoulders into his dinner jacket and knocked on his charge’s door. ‘It’s time.’
The sound of footsteps and the door opening startled him. He hadn’t expected her to be punctual. Yet she was clearly ready, carrying a beaded purse and a transparent wrap of silver blue that matched her long dress.
He stepped back, giving her space, and himself time to acclimatise.
She was stunning.
Delectable, growled a husky inner voice. Not just husky but hungry.Ravenous.
Every male hormone hummed and Fotis registered a heavy awareness pooling in his groin.
Her reddish-blond hair was caught up with a few wisps artfully loose around her neck, drawing attention to its slim length and her bare shoulders. Miniscule straps held up a simple dress that skimmed her from breasts to toes. It wasn’t tight, yet the way the light played across shimmering, shifting material revealed a body that made his mouth dry.
Want rose with a sharpness that left him short of air.
She turned to close the door and his gaze fastened on the smooth, golden flesh of her upper back.
Fotis felt the hard punch of response reverberate from his ribs to his belly, and lower.
He’d felt something similar last night, seeing her asleep. And before that, on the plane, when she’d looked so supercilious that he’d wanted to silence her sass with his mouth on hers.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
She was a client, even if an unwanted one.
He had too much self-respect to fall for the wiles of a woman so like his self-absorbed mother.Sheused men to get what she wanted. To her they were disposable. Even her innocent sons.
His voice grated over the bones of ancient hurt. ‘We need to leave now if you want to arrive on time.’
Blue-grey eyes lifted and he caught Rosamund’s curiosity. Unblinking, he met her stare, wishing she’d object to his brusqueness and break their deal in a fit of pique.
Disappointingly, she simply nodded and moved to the stairs.
