The Millionaire's Virgin

Fortunately her hair was easy to handle. Unlike Sophie’s, she wore it fairly short and straight, the simple bob curling under at her chin. When she’d known Nikolas before, her hair had been long and she’d worn it in a French braid, but that was in the days when a visit to the hairdressers’ was a weekly event.

She sighed, touching her hot cheeks with nervous fingers. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Sophie anyway, who seemed set to rival their mother’s looks when she’d been young. Paige had expressive green eyes and a generous mouth, but her features were not particularly memorable, which was why she’d never really believed that any of the men she’d dated had wanted her for herself.

A knock at the door aroused her apprehension. What now? she wondered anxiously, but it was only Sophie, who came into the room without waiting for a response. She’d changed, too, but the yellow slip dress she was wearing barely covered her bottom, and her clunky wedges clomped across the rug.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked, viewing Paige’s appearance with critical eyes. ‘Is that new? I don’t remember seeing it before.’

‘It’s not new,’ said Paige, wondering if she dared broach the subject of Sophie’s appearance, but her sister just pulled a face and sauntered over to the balcony doors.

‘I wonder what the view’s like from here?’ she mused, drawing back as a particularly large moth came and fluttered against the glass. ‘You did say you’d stayed here before, didn’t you? I couldn’t see much of the island as we drove up from the harbour, but the house seemed huge.’

‘It is.’ Paige chose her words with care. ‘Is that what you’re wearing for dinner?’

‘Well, I’m not going to get changed again,’ retorted Sophie, swinging round. She looked down at her dress. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

Paige hesitated. ‘Nothing, I suppose—’

‘Just because you like to wear frumpy clothes doesn’t mean I have to.’ Sophie’s jaw jutted belligerently. ‘I bet Paris would approve.’

Paige shrugged. ‘I dare say he would, if he could see you,’ she declared evenly. ‘But until we know what our position is here—’

‘I thought we did know,’ countered Sophie, frowning. ‘We’re going to keep some old man’s ward company. But don’t expect me to dress like a nanny. You can, but I’ve got better things to do.’

Paige shook her head, deciding not to pursue it right now, and changed the subject. ‘So,’ she said pleasantly, ‘have you unpacked your things and put them away?’

‘I’ve unpacked some,’ said Sophie carelessly. ‘I’ll do the rest in the morning.’ She scowled suddenly, turning on her high heels that added inches to her five-feet-six-inch height. ‘Hey, your room is bigger than mine. That’s not fair.’

Paige glanced about her. In all honesty, she’d paid little attention to the spacious apartment she’d been given. She’d noticed the bed was square, with a solid wooden frame, and that the quilt that covered it was made of hand-woven silk. But she’d scarcely admired the carved oak furniture or heeded the high arching ceiling above her head. There were rose chiffon curtains at the windows, she saw now, and richly patterned rugs dotted about the polished floor. In other circumstances, she wouldn’t have failed to be charmed by its simple elegance, and she could understand why Sophie was so impressed.

‘Do you want to swap?’ she asked.

‘No.’ Sophie had the grace to look slightly shamefaced now. ‘I was just admiring it, that’s all.’ She went to take a look into the adjoining bathroom. ‘I think my bathroom’s bigger than yours.’

‘Good.’

Paige decided it was time they were leaving. It was no use putting it off any longer, however apprehensive she felt. She took another look at herself in the mirror, and tucked a loose strand of brown-gold hair behind her ear. Then, after checking that the gold hoops she was wearing in her ears were secure, she picked up her purse and turned towards the door.

‘Shall we—?’

‘This guy—’

They both spoke together, and although Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what her sister had been going to say she knew they couldn’t leave until she did.

‘Nikolas Petronides,’ went on Sophie, after receiving a silent go-ahead, ‘he must be filthy rich, mustn’t he? I mean, according to Paris, he owns a fleet of oil tankers and you have to admit, this house is something else.’

Paige suppressed a groan. The last thing she needed was for Sophie to start getting ideas about Nikolas. And she hadn’t even seen him yet! Her sister thought he was old, but Nikolas was only about forty. And he was still a disturbingly attractive man.

‘I don’t think that’s of any interest to us,’ she declared reprovingly, as if talking about Nikolas didn’t bother her in the least. Didn’t remind her of the first time she been introduced to him by her father, or of the hot dark eyes that had seduced her on the spot…

‘Get real, Paige. I wouldn’t mind marrying someone with pots of money,’ retorted Sophie, with a grimace. ‘I wonder how he’d feel about taking a child-bride?’ She giggled, and Paige knew an almost irresistible impulse to slap her. ‘Or perhaps he has a son. What do you think?’

‘I think you’re being very silly,’ said Paige, aware that she was overreacting. But right now she couldn’t think about Nikolas without remembering the past they’d shared. It was this house, she thought. It had so many connotations—even though he’d never made love to her here…

‘What’s silly about wanting to marry a millionaire?’ exclaimed Sophie at once. ‘Or wanting to know if he has a son?’

‘He doesn’t.’

Paige was abrupt, and Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Of course,’ she blurted excitedly. ‘You’ve met him. I’d forgotten about that. Go on: tell me what he’s like.’

‘Not now.’ Paige was determined not to get into that discussion. ‘Come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.’

‘So what? Petronides isn’t here. You heard what that old witch said when we arrived. I’m not worried about keeping some Greek schoolkid waiting.’

Paige forbore to mention that the Greek schoolkid in question was a year older than she was. And, looking at Sophie as they left the bedroom and started along the upper gallery, she was reluctantly aware that the younger girl was probably years older when it came to experience of life. Ariadne might have lost both her parents, but she hadn’t been left alone. She’d been protected and cared for all the time she was grieving, and she had the comfort of knowing that her future was secure.

But now was not the time to be having negative thoughts about the girl she’d come here to chaperon. Instead, Paige concentrated on her surroundings, finding that her memory hadn’t deserted her when they reached the top of the stairs. Marble treads led down to an Italian marble foyer, a black iron balustrade following their sweeping curve.

‘Wow!’ Sophie was impressed, and she paused on the first stair to admire the cut-glass chandelier that illuminated the hall below. ‘What a pity we don’t have an audience,’ she taunted. ‘We could make quite an entrance from here.’

‘Thank goodness we don’t—’ Paige was beginning, when a tall figure moved out of the shadows and into the light.

‘Parakalo,’ said Nikolas, a black silk shirt and black trousers accentuating his darkly tanned appearance. ‘Please—Sophie, is it not?—feel free to descend the stairs any way you choose.’

Even Sophie was taken aback and Paige wished she could just fade into the woodwork behind her. Evidently Nikolas had returned and it was him they’d been keeping waiting. Always supposing he intended to eat with the hired help this evening, of course. Until she knew what their position in the household was going to be, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

‘Is that him?’

Sophie’s stage whisper must have reached Nikolas and Paige gave her sister an exasperated look. ‘Go on,’ she urged, pushing the girl forward without answering her, and Sophie returned her look with interest before obediently starting down.

‘I only asked,’ she muttered, but Paige wasn’t in the mood to be placated. She was already wondering how she’d ever thought that bringing Sophie here would be a good idea.

Nikolas had stepped back as they came down the stairs but now he approached them, greeting them in his own language as if to reassure them that he hadn’t heard what Sophie had said. ‘Kalispera,’ he said, his deep voice scraping across Paige’s already frayed nerves. ‘Kalos orissate sto Skiapolis.’

Sophie blinked, clearly not understanding his words, and he took her hand and said easily, ‘Welcome to Skiapolis. Did you have a good journey?’

‘Oh—yes. Thank you.’ Paige was amazed to see that her sister had actually turned fiery red. ‘I’m sorry about—you know—saying what I did. But this house is, like—way cool.’

‘I am glad you like it,’ he responded smoothly, but Paige closed her eyes for a moment, praying for deliverance. She dreaded to think what Sophie was going to say next and she started violently when Nikolas murmured, ‘Paige?’ in a concerned voice. ‘Are you all right?’

He was standing in front of her now and she had no choice but to allow him to shake her hand, too. But her fingers tingled within the strong grasp of his, her damp palm sliding revealingly against his firm flesh.

‘I—I’m fine,’ she managed, extracting her hand again as soon as she possibly could. He was so close, much closer than he’d been across the table at the restaurant in London, and she was instantly conscious of his height and the broadness of his shoulders, and the intimidating awareness that this might not have been such a good idea on her part either. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve kept you waiting. Your housekeeper said you were away.’

‘I was. But now I’m back.’ Nikolas continued to regard her with considering eyes, and Paige, whose eyes were on a level with the opened collar of his shirt, concentrated on the V of dark hair that was visible above the placket. ‘You’re flushed, aghapita. Are you not feeling well?’

‘I’ve told you, I’m fine—’ Paige started protestingly, only to be overridden by her sister’s voice.

‘She didn’t eat any lunch on the plane,’ Sophie told him smugly, not to be outdone, and as if realising they had an audience Nikolas took an automatic step away.