find any other solution. ‘It is a shame this conscience of yours didn’t emerge a little sooner. Thanks to you, I don’t have a choice. When my father is stronger, I’ll tell him that we weren’t as compatible as we thought.’
‘It would never work.’
‘Why not?’
‘If you glare at me the way you’re glaring at me now, he’s never going to be convinced that our relationship is real.’
‘The mere fact that I am bringing you to the island will be enough to convince him.’
‘Why?’
Angelos tensed. ‘I don’t take women there.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘Never?’
‘It is a place for family.’
‘And none of your previous women have earned that distinction?’
‘You are not family either, Isabelle,’ Angelos warned her softly. ‘Do not forget that. You’re merely a necessary part of my father’s convalescence.’
She frowned. ‘I’m not sure—’
‘I don’t understand why you’re hesitating. I’m offering you an all-expenses-paid luxury holiday.’
She looked at him, her gaze disturbingly direct. ‘That’s why I’m hesitating.’
He thought he could buy her.
But she didn’t accept gifts from men, or hospitality. Ever. She lived her life by that principle.
Chantal gave a shiver, acknowledging the irony of her situation. She’d taken the ticket of a woman who clearly didn’t share her scruples.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said hoarsely and his eyes narrowed.
‘You will do it—if I have to drag you there myself.’
‘No. My answer has to be no.’ Something dark and ugly uncurled inside her and she gave a little shake of her head. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘I understand perfectly. And that’s what frightens you, isn’t it? For once you’re dealing with a man who does understand you. All your declarations about liking my father have proved to be as meaningless and empty as I believed them to be.’
‘That isn’t true.’
‘If it were true then you would be doing everything possible to aid his recovery.’
Chantal turned away, remembering just how kind his father had been to her that night of the ball. She remembered the warmth of his hand on hers and how he’d stood next to her, protecting her.
She owed him her help. She wanted to help. But how could she when helping meant accepting Angelos’s hospitality?
The obvious solution would be to pay for herself, but given the pathetic state of her finances that wouldn’t be possible. She might be able to scrape together enough to cover the cost of her flight ticket, but there was no way she’d have anything left over to cover her living costs.
‘The fact that you are even hesitating shows me that you are every bit as cold-hearted as your reputation suggests.’ His tone was harsh. ‘I have explained that your presence would help my father, but as usual all you are thinking of is yourself.’
Stung by the injustice of that accusation, Chantal turned. ‘That is not true.’ She lifted her fingers to her forehead, trying to think the situation through.
Would it be so very wrong to say yes?
It wasn’t as if she and Angelos were having an affair. Despite the chemistry between them, it wasn’t that sort of relationship. All they’d ever shared was one dance and a lot of cross words. She would be living in the villa as a favour to him. To help his father.
That was quite different from—
Pushing aside her reservations, she gave a swift nod. ‘I’ll do it. But I insist on paying for my flight ticket.’
A stunned expression crossed his handsome face and then he gave a humourless laugh. ‘It’s a little late to try and impress me,’ he drawled, ‘and anyway, I don’t issue tickets when I fly by private jet.’
The colour poured into her cheeks and she felt a rush of humiliation. Private jet. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? She should have known that this man wouldn’t exactly fly budget airlines.
‘Wait—what I mean is, I don’t want you paying for me,’ she stammered, and he raised an eyebrow.
‘I could probably calculate your share if you wanted me to. But it would have several noughts attached to it. If you’re trying to persuade me that you’re not interested in my wealth, then you’re wasting your time. The evidence is stacked against you.’
Chantal bit her lip. She didn’t have the money to reimburse him for the flight, so she couldn’t push the point, but she felt deeply uncomfortable.
‘If I come with you—’ she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye ‘—it’s just because of your father. Not for any other reason.’
‘What other reason would there be? I’m not like the other men you’ve met, Isabelle. It takes more than a little hot chemistry to cloud my judgement.’
Uncomfortably aware of his scrutiny, she blushed and walked across to the window, turning her back to him.
He was so different from his father. Hard where his father had been soft. Intimidating where his father had been approachable.
Remembering just how much she’d liked the older man, she felt something tug deep inside her and felt a sudden pang of regret that he was now so poorly.
She remembered how delighted he’d seemed that his son was ‘in love’ and her expression softened. Clearly the son hadn’t inherited his knife-sharp cynicism from his father.
From her vantage point on the balcony, Chantal stared down at the streets of Paris. She could see the Seine, winding through the city, and the bold jut of the Eiffel Tower, its structure glinting in the warm sunshine.
And across the city, in the dirtiest, cheapest, most forgotten part of Paris, was the room that she’d vacated that morning. The price had become prohibitive. Too much for a waitress. It was time to move on.
Why not to Greece? She had no other place to go. Nowhere else she needed to be.
Wouldn’t that solve all her problems in the short term as well as helping out a man she genuinely cared about?
If her presence helped his recovery, then wasn’t that reason enough to go?
She could stay as long as she was needed, and then use Greece as a base for her next adventure. The only drawback was being in the company of Angelos Zouvelekis. He unsettled her more than any man she’d ever met.
But he’d be working, wouldn’t he? Adding more noughts
