Fury streaked through Fotis. Ricardo was a lowlife, living beyond his means. Of course he was interested in a pretty innocent who also happened to be an heiress.
Fotis hadn’t known about the romance then and would have put an end to it once he discovered what Ricardo was like. But given Dimi’s fragile sense of self-worth and her history of depression, he’d have found a way to do it without breaking both her heart and her ego.
‘Go on.’
Eyes that looked more silver than blue met his and Fotis caught the hint of a flush on her cheekbones. ‘He was pushing her to announce their engagement, but she wanted to tell her grandfather first. He was sure he could persuade her in the next day or so without the old man’s knowledge. Once it was announced he knew she wouldn’t back out.’
Fotis knew the old man, a friend of his dead father’s, was unwell. It was one of the reasons he felt so protective of Dimi. His hands fisted on his thighs. ‘Go on.’
Rosamund shrugged. ‘I saw red. I’d only spoken to the girl for five minutes but she clearly had no idea what her lover was really like.Iknew, so I acted.’
‘You deliberately let yourself be caught in a compromising situation with him?’ Fotis shook his head. ‘You might be a princess but why would he give up an almost-fiancée for someone he’d never met? Marriage to an heiress would be better than a fling with you.’
A smile that wasn’t a smile curved Rosamund’s lips and her eyes glittered. ‘Of course he didn’t expect to marry me. But he likes sex and Idohave a certain reputation.’
There’d been no particularly damning photos of her for years but her name was constantly linked with a passing parade of men, none of whom lasted long.
‘I waited until the men were rejoining the party and accidentally bumped into him. I may have appeared a bit wobbly when I spilled my drink.’ Her lips curled in a savage smile that made Fotis like her more. He had no doubt that despite the impression she’d given Ricardo, she’d been perfectly in control of her actions. ‘He got me another drink and while he was gone I moved closer to the lights.
‘When he returned we got better acquainted. It didn’t take long. I knew people would be coming out to see the fireworks. All I had to do was make sure we were found in a clinch when they arrived with their phones.’ Her voice held a razor-sharp edge. ‘You know how people enjoy a scandal.’
Fotis remembered the photos. Her dress strap had hung down her arm and her gleaming hair was loose around her shoulders while Ricardo cupped her breast. He had her jammed up against a wall as they kissed and her bare leg was up near his hip. They were obviously moments away from sex.
Was her story true?
‘Why not just tell Dimi?’ The images had shattered her.
One shapely eyebrow arched. ‘You think she’d have believed me, a stranger? Of course she wouldn’t. She was besotted. She needed to see him for what he really was.’
‘But why put yourself out for a stranger? You took the flak for those photos. Why not let her make her own mistakes?’
In his experience people rarely looked out for others, especially people they didn’t know. In this case the gossip hadn’t just been about the pair being caught in a compromising position, but about the princess being a man-eater, stealing a pretty innocent’s partner from under her nose.
Rosamund’s eyes met his and strong emotion arced between them. She wasn’t amused now.
‘I know what it’s like to be in her position. I was even younger than her when I was seduced by a man who didn’t care for me. I was just a means to an end. I wish I’d had someone to stand up for me then.’
CHAPTER SIX
THE NIGHT WAS BALMY, the company convivial and the vintage champagne excellent. There was even a huge, full moon hanging over the Mediterranean, creating a silvery path right up to where the sea lapped the shore below the spectacular villa. As if even nature were determined to add its lustre to the A-list event.
Rosamund had had a busy time in Paris and then in Cannes for the film festival, where there’d been a special screening of her mother’s most famous film.
Tonight’s party, along the coast from the festival, signalled the end. Tomorrow she’d go home.
And Fotis would return to Greece.
She sipped her champagne but suddenly it tasted stale.
She tried to focus on the conversation in the group surrounding her, and satisfaction that the events dedicated to her mother’s memory had gone so well.
But her mind was elsewhere.
On the man standing proprietorially close beside her, so close she felt his body heat down her side. She should be used to it by now. They’d spent a week playing the role of lovers in public, attracting a huge amount of media attention. But after the night when she’d explained what happened in New York and they’d settled into a truce, the role had seemed insidiously more real.
It had become second nature to expect that ripple of awareness under her skin when he stood near. The tug in her belly when he bent his head, holding her gaze, as if unable to look away. And when he touched her, as he did so frequently now, the shimmering heat in her pelvis was utterly familiar.
It was all for show but her responses were real.
