The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Wife

Out the front, everything was fine.

Backstage, it was something else.

‘If she makes one more complaint,’ Micki threatened as Danika took the catwalk, ‘Just one more, I’ll have her for breakfast.’

‘On cinnamon toast, or dipped in eggs Benedict?’ Ilana queried with wry cynicism.

‘Preferably drowned in my coffee.’

‘Espresso or chai latte?’

Micki rolled her eyes. ‘You’re a riot.’

‘An hour, and it’ll all be over,’ she reminded.

Minutes later Micki handed the model bangles and earrings, which received an expressive sigh in resignation.

‘Not until the fat lady sings,’ Micki assured as Danika disappeared out onto the stage.

Applause could be heard above the music.

One by one the models returned, effected a quick change and readied themselves for the next category.

Cocktail wear, then evening wear.

Ilana had created a stunning gown in red, with a finely pleated bodice, a draped full-length skirt with a side-split reaching almost to the hip.

To give due credit, Danika showcased it with incredible panache.

‘I’ll take this instead of my fee.’

‘It’s an original and part of a collection.’ And not intended as barter.

‘Precisely why I’ll have it.’

‘Impossible.’ Micki stepped forward and slid down the hidden zip fastening. ‘The gown is to feature in next season’s showing.’

Danika offered a supercilious glare. ‘Make another.’

Deep breaths…one, two…‘Then it won’t be an original,’ Ilana said calmly.

‘Tough.’

Bridal-wear became the final category, and Arabelle opted for the traditional, with exquisite lace, a demure neckline, and tiny covered buttons from nape to tailbone. A soft, flowing full-length skirt overlayed with lace moved like a dream with every step the model took.

The finale awaited the final judging…emotion and tension ran high among the assembled designers as to which one of them would win in each given category.

Meanwhile the models hovered, ready to don the winning garment.

This was the moment everyone had been waiting for, and the organisers played up the drama, building the excitement as the judging numbers were handed in.

Then the winning categories were announced…from the beginning, and the model reappeared on stage with the designer to generous applause.

The suspense was killing, and Ilana clutched Micki’s hand as the evening-wear category was announced.

Arabelle won with the red gown.

And Arabelle took out the bridal category.

It was an incredible moment as Ilana and Micki went up on stage and stood together, wearing their signature black leggings and blousson tops and stiletto-heeled boots as Danika paraded the catwalk.

The presentation, the short speech. Elation, joy, nerves and relief.

Then it was time for the whole congratulatory thing as photographers’ cameras flashed in split-second unison.

‘Darling, I’m so very proud of you.’ Liliana hugged her tight. Others followed, until Ilana thought her head might spin.

‘Congratulations.’

The male voice was a familiar one, and she felt the thud of an increased pulse-beat as she turned slowly to meet Xandro’s steady gaze.

His presence was unexpected. Tonight’s event wasn’t something a heterosexual male would consider attending alone in normal circumstances.

Several questions raced through her brain. Could he be joining Danika later? Perhaps going on to a nightclub?

Or was he with someone else?

He didn’t lack for female partners, that was for sure!

Oh, for heaven’s sake…stop it! What if he is with someone else? As if you care!

So why this slight jolt of wishful longing? Almost as if some deeply hidden imp was bent on teasing her subconscious with what it might be like with this man.

‘Thanks.’

He emanated leashed strength and a degree of latent sensuality. It was a lethal combination, and much too much for any feminine peace of mind.

Beneath the sophisticated façade lay the heart and soul of a modern-day warrior. Ruthless, forceful and all-powerful. Only a fool would attempt to toy with him.

It was easy to see why women fell at his feet.

Fascination, the thrill of the chase…and the instinctive knowledge he knew precisely how to touch, with his hands, his mouth, to gift the ultimate pleasure. And take it for his own.

Flame and heat, searing, exultant at its zenith. But afterwards…what then?

‘Are you done?’ His barely audible voice held a faintly teasing quality, and she wondered with sudden shock just how long she’d stood there looking at him.

Please God, surely it was only seconds?