Victoria. Mistresses—kept women—rich protectors, you know.’
A cynical curve indented his mouth.
‘You think women no longer like to take rich men as their lovers, and thereby live in a style that they could not afford for themselves?’
Her eyes hardened. He was right, damn it—her exposure to the realities of life in the fashion world had taught her that a long time ago.
‘If they do, then ‘mistress’ is not the term I’d use for them,’ she riposted.
‘What would you use then?’
‘One unfit for mixed company.’ She gave her acid-sweet smile again. ‘And, by the way, no—I do not count Vanessa as one of them!’
‘You are so sure of that?’ The cynical note was back in his voice.
Anna glared at him.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am. I just hope she’s got a best friend to mop her up when your cousin gets bored with being adored and moves on to his next squeeze.’
The dark eyebrows drew together again.
‘I have already told you that Markos has no reason not to be generous to her when he ends their affair.’
Anna gave up. There was clearly no point discussing the matter. Vanessa was going to get hurt, and if good old Markos was anything like his lovely cousin then it was going to be tears after bedtime for sure.
‘You can’t dry your eyes on diamonds,’ she contented herself with answering dryly.
‘She is a very beautiful woman—she will soon find another lover.’
The indifference in his voice raised her hackles.
‘Oh, good—that’s all right, then.’ Anna bestowed another acid smile on him.
But Leo Makarios was frowning again—and then a different expression was on his face.
‘What you say is disturbing,’ he said slowly. ‘You believe she has ambitions for marriage?’
‘Ambitions?’ Anna sat back. Her chicken and salad were gone, and she wasn’t about to help herself to any more. The pangs had been stilled, and it was time to get rid of Mr Money-Bags Makarios—and his delightful views on female venality. ‘I’d say she probably has some fairy-tale vision of wafting down an aisle to a heavenly choir towards your cousin suddenly transformed into Prince Charming with a halo, but she can’t possibly be idiotic enough to think a man like your cousin is going to marry her!’
Leo Makarios’s mouth tightened.
‘Perhaps you could ensure,’ he said, resting his eyes on her, ‘that she understands that that is indeed the case. She must harbour no ambitions to entrap Markos into marriage.’
Anna reached for the water. ‘I’ll be sure to pass the message on,’ she said dryly.
‘A naïve woman can be even more dangerous than a clever one,’ he rejoined darkly.
Dangerous. Suddenly Anna wished he hadn’t used that particular word. It was the one that had been haunting her about him ever since she’d set eyes on him.
Of their own volition her eyes swept across to him.
He seemed to be lost in thought, heavy-lidded eyes inwardlooking, a brooding expression on his face. Preoccupied as he was, she could not resist indulging in just gazing at him a moment.
Oh, dear God, he really was gorgeous! She just stared at him, as if he were a forbidden cream cake in a baker’s shop. Then, forcing herself, she dragged her eyes away and finished pouring out her glass of water. She drank it down and set the glass back on the table.
She gave herself a mental shake. Whatever her first assumptions had been about why Leo Makarios had swanned in here at this time of night, it was clear she’d been completely wrong. He was simply here on an intelligence-gathering mission—the purpose of which was to protect his precious cousin from women who—shock, horror—fell in love with him.
Leo wasn’t here to pounce. In fact he was probably just using up some rare spare time while a piece of posh totty slipped into her couture negligee and buffed her nails in his state apartment downstairs. Rich men, she knew, from her years in the fashion world, did odd things at odd times. Being eccentric, like turning up complete with a midnight supper just to get the gen on his cousin’s squeeze, was one of the perks of being so loaded you could do what you liked and no one even blinked.
She watched him polish off the last of his meal. He definitely had a large frame to fill up. Not that there was the slightest sign of fat on him. All lean muscle. A lot of power and vigour at his disposal. Whoever was waiting for him was clearly in for an energetic night…
No—stop that! Her self-admonishment was instant and severe. The less she thought about Leo Makarios’s sex life—which had nothing to do with her!—the better. In fact, the sooner he was out of here the better. The hooks at the back of her dress were digging into her, and she was dying to get her make-up off and have a shower.
Well, he wouldn’t be long now, surely?
Leo set his plate down, picked up his wine glass, and leant back again.
‘You are not drinking your wine,’ he remarked.
‘Empty calories,’ she answered flippantly.
The frown came again.
‘Why do you starve yourself?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Some models have fast metabolisms and can eat a horse and not show it. Jenny’s like that. Me, I’ll just pile on the pounds if I eat.’ She gave a twisted smile. ‘I’ll eat when I retire,’ she said.
Why was she talking to him? She wanted him to finish his wine and go.
‘Retire? But you are how old?’
She made a face. ‘Long in the tooth for modelling. The cult is for youth—the younger the better.’
‘Ridiculous! Who would want the bud instead of the full flower?’
‘Modelling agencies,’ she said succinctly. ‘Young girls are a lot more malleable—controllable and exploitable. It’s a nasty business, modelling.’
‘And yet…’ his eyes rested on her ‘…you thrive.’
‘I survive,’ she corrected him. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘I’m not ungrateful. Modelling’s been a well-paid career for me.’
There was a shuttered look on his face suddenly.
‘Money is important to you?’
Anna looked at him. ‘I’d be pretty stupid if it weren’t! I’ve known models blowing the whole damn lot they earn—chucking it around on clothes and rich living—and they end up with nothing to show for it.’
‘But you are more shrewd?’
