The Millionaire's Virgin. Sophie Weston
she walked away Lisa hoped crazily that he would call her back. Almost immediately, she found she missed him… She missed walking with him, relaxing with him, talking to him… She missed everything about him—which was ridiculous. They had shared one day. But sharing was something she never did. The lack of privacy in the commune had seen to that. There had been no private space, no personal possessions. Her time there had made her selfish. She knew that. Today had been different. Today she had experienced an alternative, and found she liked it. She liked it a lot.
Opening the door to her bedroom, Lisa smiled, remembering the moment Tino had almost crashed into the harbour wall. He hadn’t come out of the day unscathed either. They had both been equally distracted. Tossing her battered sunhat on the bed, she freed her hair and ran her fingers through the tangles. She would take a long, lazy bath, and forget about dangerous Greek men—she had to focus on business now.
It was a very different bathroom from the sophisticated wet room she used at the apartment. In that ultra-modern space, minimalism ruled. Tino’s preferred style was traditional, as if he appreciated the history behind every object. The various jars and crystal vases were exquisite, as was the beautiful pale peach fabric covering the antique chaise longue in one corner of the room. Everything had been chosen with care, or maybe he had inherited the lot from his wealthy parents…
The commune had been littered with other people’s junk. All she craved now in her life were a few highly sought after examples of modern craftsmanship—precious items, carefully selected, and then kept like museum pieces for her pleasure alone, almost as if she needed to remind herself that no one could force her to share them.
When she walked onto the balcony after her bath she was forced to dodge out of sight, seeing Tino deep in conversation with one of his gardeners. It had been foolish to walk outside wrapped in nothing but a towel, but the sunset had drawn her. The remarkable light had bathed the two men in an other-worldly glow, and even the petals of the flowers they were holding seemed lit by some spectral fire.
Then she remembered the taxi driver telling her that the May Day festivities required every house on Stellamaris to be filled with flowers. The meeting between Tino and his gardener would be something to do with that, she supposed. The gardener was probably outlining his plans, while Tino was making his selection from the available blooms.
The May Day celebrations would start on Friday. Had Tino planned this week knowing he would be too wrapped up in local festivities to spare time for their business discussions?
On this point at least, Lisa felt confident. Tino Zagorakis would never forego the chance of a business deal in favour of a local flower festival.
She would have to put her suit back on, Lisa realised, returning inside—or the trousers and shirt part of it, at least. She hadn’t brought anything more with her than her swimming things, a change of underwear and tops, and her pyjamas. She had not expected to be staying longer than a couple of nights at most…
As she opened the wardrobe door Lisa exclaimed with surprise. It certainly wasn’t empty now. Her initial thought was that all the beautiful outfits must belong to Arianna, but as she ran her hand along the rail she could see that they still had labels attached, as if they had been sent on approval from some high-class boutique.
She frowned, and pulled back. Was this Tino’s idea? If they were meant for her, she couldn’t accept them. Of course she couldn’t accept them. But on the other hand, if she was staying until Friday she had to have something to wear. And she already had to pay him back for the sunhat and cream—she could just add this to the tally…
A quick call to the housekeeper confirmed they were for her. Tino had judged her dress size accurately, suggesting he had made some pretty thorough observations. Lisa felt heat flood through her, and then as she remembered the chest of drawers across the room excitement rushed through her. Nothing like this had ever happened to her.. and, surely, there couldn’t be anything else?
Wrapping her fingers around the handles, she dragged a drawer open and stared inside. A sigh slowly peeled out of her. Underwear that she had only ever lusted after before was stacked—not laid, but stacked in neat piles—and arranged carefully according to colour. Of course she could easily have afforded any of it, but where clothes were concerned she was frugal. In the commune dozens of outfits had been shared around, but she had always worn the same threadbare track suit, guarding it jealously. The habit had stuck; though her clothes were no longer threadbare, she still kept her wardrobe to a minimum.
On the rare occasions when her father had pressed money into her hands so she didn’t disgrace herself at a social function, she had spent as little as possible, returning the change to a man who had been as bemused by his daughter’s parsimony as he had been appalled by her mother’s reckless transfer of funds to the commune. Treating herself had been out of the question, wasting her father’s money unthinkable, and she still kept rigid control of her finances. This abundance of luxury goods was like every birthday come at once…
It certainly beat having things sent on approval to the office, Lisa reflected ruefully as she rummaged through the drawer. Who, for goodness’ sake, had time to choose briefs made of the finest flesh-coloured gossamer net? As she held them up she knew that her decision to keep some of the things was already made. She might be destined to eat dinner alone, but she was going to be dressed to kill.
She chose an elegant floor-length silk skirt in dove-grey with a matching camisole that had a toning, chiffon over-shirt in shades of grey and smoky lilac. The colours were ideal for her complexion, and she wore her hair down. In one of the drawers she was stunned to find a pair of beautiful amethyst earrings in a small velvet case. She never wore jewellery, but these were gorgeous—and whoever had chosen them had exquisite taste. Maybe she would develop a taste for jewellery too, Lisa mused, viewing her reflection in the floor-length mirror.
She turned at a knock on the door, feeling rather foolish as she hurried to open it. She was dressed for an occasion, not to eat dinner alone on her balcony.
‘Oh.’ Lisa stared with amazement at the vast floral arrangement the maid was holding out to her.
‘For you, Thespinis Bond.’
‘Are you sure?’
The girl looked at her.
Of course, she was sure, Lisa realised, kicking her sluggish brain cells into action as she stood back to let the young girl into the room.
‘Shall I put them over here for you, Thespinis Bond, where you can see them from the bed?’ The maid hovered by an ornate console table.
‘Yes, please. That’s definitely the right place for them… They’re magnificent.’
‘They are all from the gardens here at Villa Aphrodite.’
‘Oh.’
‘I almost forgot, Thespinis Bond. There is a card for you.’
Taking the vellum envelope, Lisa waited until the maid had left the room before opening it. Her heart started to thump heavily as she read the firm, uncompromising script. ‘I would be delighted if you could join me for dinner this evening, Tino.’
So he hadn’t forgotten. Her heart was hammering like a piston. She was excited and apprehensive too. A small part of her wanted this to be the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her—that was ever likely to happen to her—but she knew she had to be wary of Tino’s motives. This was all very nice, but she couldn’t afford to be distracted yet again from the purpose of her visit. Was this just part of his business plan—his well-thought-out strategy to soften her up? Everyone said Tino Zagorakis would stop at nothing. Was this just another example of the tactics he was prepared to employ?
As Lisa stared at the beautiful flowers they might as well have sprouted darts all aimed in her direction. There was another discreet tap on the door, and when she opened it Lisa found the same maid hovering.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you again, Thespinis Bond, but Kirie Zagorakis would like your answer now. Will you be joining him for dinner, or would you prefer to dine in your room