The rain-blurred lights of the city passed in a streak while Xan made a phone call. She heard him say her name as he began speaking in rapid Greek, before laughing at something the person on the end of the line must have said. And it was the laugh which made Tamsyn’s heart clench with unexpected wistfulness. Imagine living the kind of life where you could just jump into the back of a limousine without worrying about the cost, and laugh so uninhibitedly as you chatted on the phone—as if you didn’t have a care in the world.
Like a glittering citadel, the Granchester Hotel rose up before them and as the car slid to a halt, a doorman sprang forward to greet Xan like an old friend. The flower-filled foyer was busy as expensively dressed guests milled around, looking as if they had somewhere important to go. A woman was walking purposefully towards them, one of the most beautiful women Tamsyn had ever seen. Slim and smiling, her hair was as pale as moonlight and she was wearing a short blue dress which hugged her hips and a tiny cardigan just a shade darker.
‘Xan!’ she said fondly, rising up on the toes of her ballet pumps to kiss the Greek tycoon on both cheeks, before turning to Tamsyn with a wide smile. ‘And you must be Tamsyn,’ she said. ‘I’m Emma and I’m married to Xan’s cousin. I gather you need something to wear for dinner tonight and time is tight—so why don’t you come with me and I can sort you something out?’
It was weird—maybe because Emma was so polite and so...gracious—that Tamsyn didn’t find herself frozen by her usual air of suspicion. Instead, she smiled back and the three of them walked over to an elevator which nobody else seemed to be using. And of course, the presence of Emma in the enclosed space meant that Tamsyn’s conversation with Xan was temporarily interrupted, although she couldn’t help but be acutely aware of his presence and the mocking light in his eyes. What on earth have I got myself into? she wondered as the elevator slid to a silent halt and they stepped directly into an enormous room whose wall to ceiling windows gave a stunning view over the glittering skyscrapers of London.
‘Xan, why don’t you help yourself to a drink?’ Emma gave another soft smile. ‘Tamsyn, come with me.’
In a dream-like state, Tamsyn followed the elegant blonde down a long corridor and into a dressing room which led off from an huge bedroom. Maybe if she hadn’t just lost her job for the umpteenth time and maybe if the image of her tiny bedsit hadn’t just flashed into her mind, then she might have told Emma she’d changed her mind, thanked her for her kind offer and just left. Xan might be keen to put some mysterious ‘proposition’ to her, but despite what she suspected was his tendency to always get his own way—she doubted whether he would actually try to keep her here by force.
But she didn’t do any of those things. Perhaps it was the blonde’s serene presence or just the fact that Tamsyn was tired. Bone tired. As if she could sleep for a hundred years and then maybe a hundred more. So she nodded politely as Emma ran her perfectly manicured fingernails—a deep shade of blue which matched her cardigan—along a line of colour-co-ordinated clothes hanging in the biggest closet Tamsyn had ever seen.
‘I’m not going to stand over you and influence your choice,’ she told Tamsyn softly. ‘Just wear whatever takes your fancy—and that includes shoes, if they fit. I’ll go and entertain your man and see you back in the sitting room.’
Mutely, Tamsyn nodded. She wanted to tell Emma that Xan wasn’t her anything but surely that was an over-complicating factor and things were complicated enough already. Her heart was racing as she quickly washed in the en-suite bathroom before slithering into a long-sleeved dress in green cashmere which she cinched in at the waist with a belt. Her tiny feet swam like boats in tall Emma’s sleek footwear so she packed the toes of some green suede shoes with wads of tissue paper. Liberating her curls from their elastic band, she raked a comb through them in a vain attempt to tame them and, tucking her own damp clothes under her arm, walked back towards the sitting room.
She was surprised to hear Emma speaking in Greek to Xan, but the conversation died away as she walked into the massive room. She couldn’t deny the inordinate amount of pleasure she took from the look of disbelief on Xan’s face as slowly he looked her up and down. It reminded her that she really could scrub up well—even if she had to rely on the charity of other people in order to do so.
The tycoon was rising to his feet, dominating the room with his powerful presence, a faint smile curving his lips. ‘I’ve told Emma we have a table booked downstairs.’
It seemed almost rude to just use the kind blonde’s apartment like some kind of upmarket changing room, but Emma was also getting to her feet, giving Tamsyn another genuine smile which made her feel momentarily disconcerted.
‘And Zac is just flying in from Zurich,’ she said, her cheeks growing pink with pleasure. ‘Where it appears that my husband has bought yet another hotel.’
It was only then that Tamsyn made the connection and she wondered how she could have been so dense. Emma was married to Zac Constantinides—the billionaire owner of the Granchester group of luxury hotels and Zac was Xan’s cousin? Why hadn’t Hannah reminded her of that? As the lift zoomed them back down to the hotel foyer, she wondered why she hadn’t made the link herself, when it wasn’t exactly the most common surname in the world. Probably because her mind and her body had been so full of new and conflicting emotions. And they still were. Surreptitiously, she touched her tongue to lips which were as dry as washing hung out in the sun, achingly aware that she was far from immune to the statuesque man who walked beside her.
They were shown into Garden Room, which overlooked an outdoor space which was surprisingly big, given its central London location. A discreet notice on the wall informed customers that the gardens had recently won a top horticultural award and although it was dark outside, cleverly placed lighting illuminated the tall shrubs and rare trees. As the maître d’ showed them to what was obviously the best table—tucked away in a corner but with a birds-eye view of the floodlit gardens—Tamsyn became aware of people watching them. Or rather, they were watching Xan. Did he realise that, or was his sense of self-worth so strong that he didn’t notice?
‘So why have you brought me here?’ she questioned as she sat down to face a gleam of silver and crystal, tightening her hands as she laid them down on the snowy linen tablecloth. ‘And more importantly, why have I let you?’
He paused for a moment while the waiter handed them menus, a wry smile touching the edges of his lips. ‘Because we have been lovers and because you’re curious.’
She gave a defiant tilt of her chin. ‘I don’t usually let people move me around like I’m a chip on the gaming table.’
‘I get that. Just as I don’t usually rush in and mastermind a transformation scene for my dinner dates,’ he added drily, flicking her a cool cobalt gaze. ‘You look absolutely sensational in that dress, by the way.’
Stupidly, the compliment made her want to squirm with pleasure until Tamsyn reminded herself that she still didn’t know why she was here. But he was right. She was curious.
‘So what do you want to talk about?’
‘Why don’t we choose what we want to eat first, otherwise the waiter will keep hovering over us.’ He glanced at the menu before fixing her with his dark blue gaze. ‘Would you like me to order for you?’
Tamsyn glared. Did he think she was so poor and humble that she’d couldn’t interpret the French menu? Didn’t he realise she’d worked in more fancy restaurants than he’d probably had hot dinners? She was sorely tempted to tell him she’d changed her mind, when she spotted something being lit with blue flames on a nearby table. Something delicious enough to make her mouth water and once again she was reminded that it was ages since she’d eaten.
‘I’ll have the lobster thermidor and the green salad with vinaigrette on the side,’ she said carelessly. ‘And no wine—just sparkling water.’
She enjoyed his faint look of surprise as he slapped his own
menu shut and handed it to the waiter. ‘I’ll have the same,’ he said, leaning back in his chair to study her.
‘So,’ she said, when he appeared in no hurry to break the silence. ‘I’m still waiting for some sort of explanation. I mean, you’ve been content to ignore me for weeks and then you just turn up out of the blue and bring me here with the offer of some mystery proposition. What is it, Xan? Do you happen to own a café with an opening for a waitress who urgently needs a job?’
Xan realised that he was going to have to exercise great care in his choice of words because Tamsyn Wilson was both volatile and unpredictable. In a way she was the worst possible candidate for what he had in mind, but ironically it was her very unsuitability which made her the ideal candidate.
‘You’re in a bit of a fix right now aren’t you, Tamsyn?’ he questioned softly.
Her emerald eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘How do you know that?’
He shrugged. ‘Call it intuition or call it observation. You seem to switch jobs quite frequently and being fired doesn’t seem to freak you out as much as it would some people.’ His gaze stayed fixed on her face. ‘And I noticed you had a hole in your coat.’
She blushed and seemed to hesitate. As if wondering whether or not to brazen things out and keep pretending that, apart from urgently needing a job—everything else was okay. But the strain around her eyes told him that her plight was chronic and maybe she realised that, because some of her defiance seemed to ebb away as she lifted her shoulders in a shrug which didn’t quite come off.
‘I’ve known better times,’ she admitted.
‘But your sister has just married one of the wealthiest men in the world,’ he probed. ‘Surely she can come to your rescue if you’re in need of money.’
For the first time he saw emotion on her face. Real emotion. Was it pride or distress which made her lips tremble like that? ‘I’m not going to ask Hannah for help,’ she said fiercely. ‘She’s helped me too often in the past and it’s about time I stood on my own two feet.’
Xan nodded, realising that her misplaced pride was playing right into his hands. ‘Then I think I can help you,’ he said quietly. ‘Or rather, I think we can help each other.’
She had recovered from her brief spell of vulnerability and that familiar challenge was back in her eyes. ‘Me, help the powerful Xan Constantinides? Gosh. I can’t imagine how I would do that.’
Xan paused for a moment because even though they meant nothing, the words he was about to say still had the power to make him tense. He’d had a blueprint for his life and up until now it had all gone according to plan, for he had micro-managed and controlled every part of it. It was how he had won a straight scholarship to Harvard from a humble village school and made a fortune in the property market, soon after graduating. He’d thought of matrimony to Sofia as just another stage in his game plan, but suddenly all that had changed. Suddenly he could understand why they called it wedlock. His eyes didn’t leave Tamsyn’s face.
‘By marrying me,’ he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
XAN HAD NEVER seen anyone look so startled. Across the restaurant table, he watched Tamsyn’s lips open and the pink tip of her tongue reminded him of the erotic pathways it had traced over his sweat-sheened skin. He shifted his weight a little and swallowed, because Tamsyn Wilson had given him more orgasms in a few short hours than any other woman—so many he’d lost count, and a man never forgot something like that.
The hardness in his groin increased, because didn’t his current dilemma provide him with the perfect opportunity to feast on her delectable body once more? He hadn’t pursued the affair not just because she was Kulal’s new sister-in-law but because she had an inner wildness which made him uneasy—a wildness he had responded to in a way he didn’t quite trust. Because something about her fire and her spirit had made him ignore his instinct to take her to bed in the first place. And ignoring his instincts had made him feel as if control was slipping away from him, which he didn’t like. He didn’t like it at all.
‘Did you really just ask me to marry you?’ she was saying, her green eyes unnaturally bright in the flicker of the candlelight.
‘You want me to repeat it for you?’ he drawled.
He was curious to see what her reaction would be, because that would colour his future behaviour towards her. If she looked as if he was about to present her with the moon on a platter and make her every dream come true, then he would have to be wary. But if, as he suspected—she cared as little for him as he did for her—there was no reason why they couldn’t both enjoy what he had in mind.
But there was no sign of longing or triumph on her freckled face. Her green eyes were as suspicious as they’d been before. And Xan couldn’t deny a brief kick of incredulity, for he was used to women making no secret of their adoration for him.
‘Is this some kind of bad joke?’ she was demanding. ‘Have you had a bet with someone to see how much of a sucker I can be?’
He shook his head. ‘I have often been described as difficult, but I am never knowingly cruel.’
There was a trace of uncertainty in her demeanour now. He could see her computing his words and failing to make sense of them.
She waited until the waiter had deposited their food in front of them before raising her eyebrows. ‘So, why? I mean, why do you want to marry me? Did it take you all this time to realise that you can’t possibly live without me and the only way to guarantee having me for the rest of your life is to slip a wedding ring on my finger?’
He stiffened before detecting sarcasm. ‘Hardly,’ he said.
She picked up her fork and hungrily began to eat. ‘So why?’
Xan sucked in a long breath. Explanations he found difficult. Almost as difficult as intimacy. It was in his nature to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself—or maybe that was just the way he’d been raised. His mother had been indifferent towards him and his father had been too busy trying to claw back his land and his heritage, to have any time for his only son. Either way, Xan had never let anyone close enough to worry about whether or not he trusted them. Yet to some extent he was going to have to trust Tamsyn Wilson if she agreed to his plan. And wouldn’t that give her power over him? He swallowed, recognising that if he didn’t want her abusing that power, he was going to have to reward her very handsomely.
‘How much do you know about me?’ he demanded.
She dabbed at her lips but the large linen napkin failed to hide her smile. ‘You think I was so obsessed after our night in Zahristan that I hunted around to find out everything I could?’
‘I don’t know.’ He sent her a look of challenge. ‘Did you?’
‘Funnily enough, no. I’ve had enough experience of lost causes to know when to quit. I certainly didn’t waste any time mooning over someone who couldn’t wait to get away from me. What do I know about you? Let me see.’ She began to tap each finger, as if counting off the facts. ‘Basically, you’re loaded—my friend Ellie told me you were born mega-rich, though I think I could have worked that out for myself judging by your fancy suits and your swagger. My sister mentioned you were a hugely successful businessman—oh, and you’re arrogant. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that since that’s a quality you seem to have in abundance.’
An unexpected smile touched the edges of Xan’s lips. Clearly he wasn’t going to have to worry about Tamsyn Wilson putting him on a pedestal!
‘Anything else?’ he questioned sardonically.
She shrugged. ‘You don’t seem as if you like me very much and yet now you’re asking me to marry you?’ She shook her red curls and scooped up another forkful of lobster. ‘Forgive me if I sound confused—it’s because I am.’
Discreetly, Xan gestured to the Sommelier, who returned moments later bearing a dusty bottle. A dark red liquid was dispensed into his glass and when Tamsyn shook her head in reply to the silent question in his eye
s, he took a sip of the wine before continuing.
‘There are only two things you need to know about me, Tamsyn,’ he said. ‘The first is that I believe there is no problem on this earth you can’t buy your way out of, and the second is that there is a woman in Greece to whom I have been unofficially betrothed for many years.’ He paused. ‘Except I’ve realised that I cannot go through with it. I cannot marry her.’
He saw her eyes darken in distress. Saw the brief stabbing of her teeth into her lower lip before she displayed her more habitual air of nonchalance. ‘Then don’t. Just tell her. Dump her as comprehensively as you dumped me. She might be a bit upset but I should think one day she’ll be grateful she isn’t stuck with a misogynist like you for a lifetime. What’s the problem, Xan? Has she found out you were sleeping with me—and maybe others—behind her back? Has she gone on the warpath in the way that only a jealous woman can?’
Angrily, Xan slammed his glass down on the table. ‘Just for the record, I haven’t had sex with anyone since the night I spent with you and I certainly haven’t had sex with Sofia,’ he growled. ‘It’s not that kind of relationship.’
At this, she put her fork down and the look she gave him was cynical. ‘Let me guess,’ she said tiredly. ‘You play around and have your fun with women like me, is that right? And in the meantime there’s a pure young virgin back home in Greece, just waiting for you? The age-old double standard of which so many men are guilty?’
Once again her perception startled him and she must have read the confirmation in his face because he could see her pushing her chair back as if preparing to walk out.
‘You’re disgusting!’ she flared.
‘Don’t go,’ he said urgently as he leant across the table towards her. ‘Hear me out first. Please, Tamsyn.’
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