The Hot-Headed Virgin: The Virgin's Price / The Greek's Virgin / The Italian Billionaire's Virgin. Trish Morey

of man she’d actively avoided all her dating life. He was too self-assured and too experienced for her to keep at arm’s length. She just didn’t know how to handle men like him.

      Bryn opened the soundproof panel and addressed the driver. ‘You can go home now, Henry, I’ll see that Miss Forrester gets home.’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Dwyer.’ He took off his cap at Mia and added, ‘Miss Forrester. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Mia waited until the driver had left before turning on Bryn. ‘I thought I told you I didn’t want to come back here with you. I’m tired and I want to go home.’

      ‘You can sleep in tomorrow. It’s not as if you have to get up for work.’

      ‘Thanks to you,’ she said with an embittered look.

      ‘You can’t tell me you enjoyed working in that café, Mia,’ he said as he opened the door and ushered her in. ‘It was a pittance of a wage and you had to be polite to obnoxious people all day, which I can only assume from what I’ve seen of you so far was incredibly difficult, if not at times impossible.’

      ‘Not all of them were obnoxious,’ she countered with a narrow-eyed glare.

      He shrugged himself out of his jacket and tossed it to one side before reaching to loosen his tie. ‘Would you like a drink?’

      ‘No.’

      He led the way to a sumptuous lounge with stunning views over the harbour. Two luxurious caramel-coloured leather sofas dominated the room, the floor was covered with deep cream carpet and the walls adorned with original paintings from some well-known Australian and international artists. There was a well-appointed bar at one end of the room and an impressive-looking sound and entertainment system along the far wall.

      Mia stood looking out at the view rather than meet Bryn’s dark eyes. ‘How long have you lived here?’ she asked.

      She heard the chink of a glass behind her. ‘A couple of years or so. I wanted a place where the Press can’t hound me all the time.’

      She turned around to look at him in puzzlement. ‘I thought you actively courted the Press. Isn’t that the whole reason I’m playing this role for you, to increase your ratings?’

      He took a sip of his drink before answering. ‘It’s one of the reasons you are here.’

      She gave him a wary look, her heart beginning to thud unevenly. ‘You mean there’s more than one?’

      He put his glass down and came to stand in front of her. Mia tried to step away but the backs of her legs came up against one of the sofas. She drew in a sharp little breath as she brought her gaze up to his. His eyes were so dark she felt as if she was staring into the moonless midnight sky.

      ‘When you poured that coffee in my lap this morning I thought it would be a good opportunity to give my ratings a boost by pretending to have a whirlwind romance with you, and it worked. The public fell for it, hook line and sinker. Annabelle called me earlier with the ratings for this afternoon’s show and they were absolutely phenomenal. The stuff the Press releases tomorrow will ramp them up even more. But it’s not the only reason I have for wanting you to act this role for me a little longer.’

      Mia waited for him to go on, wondering what other reason he could have for continuing this ridiculous charade. She wanted it to stop before things got out of hand. She already felt as if she’d stepped over some sort of invisible barrier after he’d kissed her, not once but three times. She wasn’t even sure if what she was doing was even acting any more. The more time she spent with him the more the lines blurred between what was real and what was fantasy.

      ‘Jocey mentioned my great-aunt Agnes to you this evening,’ he said after a small pause.

      ‘Yes…’

      ‘She’s my only living relative and I owe her a great deal.’ He let out a small sigh and scored a rough pathway through the dark brown silk of his hair before adding, ‘She hasn’t got long to live and I would give anything to make her last few weeks of life as happy as they can possibly be.’

      Mia was surprised by the sincerity in his voice, he sounded as if he really cared for his great aunt.

      Truly cared.

      She found it difficult to fit his public persona as a thirty-three-year-old filthy rich playboy with a reputation for shallow, short-lived relationships with the man in front of her, who obviously cared very deeply for an ageing relative.

      ‘I’m sorry about your great-aunt’s health,’ she said softly. ‘It must be an awful time for you both.’

      His gaze meshed with hers once more. ‘My great-aunt’s only wish is to see me happily settled. She sacrificed her chance at marriage in order to raise me when my parents died so suddenly when I was a child. She gave up everything for me.’

      Mia swallowed at the sudden intensity of his blue-black gaze.

      ‘You see, Mia, a simple engagement might be enough for the Press and the public, but it is not going to be enough for Agnes.’

      ‘I-it’s not?’

      He shook his head gravely. ‘No. What she wants more than anything in the world before she dies is to see me officially married.’

      ‘M-married?’ she gulped. ‘Officially?’

      ‘Yes, in front of witnesses, preferably in a church and legally binding.’

      ‘You surely don’t expect me to…’ She found it impossible to finish the sentence in case by saying it out loud it would somehow make it inescapably true.

      ‘I’m asking you to marry me, Mia,’ he said, confirming her worst fears.

      She stared at him open-mouthed. Surely she’d misheard him. He couldn’t possibly have…

      ‘Of course, I don’t expect you to do it for nothing,’ he went on evenly. ‘I will pay you a lump sum up front and a generous allowance for as long as the marriage continues.’

      ‘You want me to marry you? For real?’ She gawped at him incredulously. ‘You mean you’re actually serious about this?’

      He frowned at her stupefied expression. ‘I’m not asking you to jump off the harbour bridge, Mia, just to wear my ring until such time as it is no longer necessary.’

      Mia’s stomach felt as if she’d just jumped off Centrepoint Tower, which was a whole lot taller than the harbour bridge. How could she possibly consent to marrying a man she hated? And even worse—for money?

      ‘But marriage?’ she asked again, shaking her head in disbelief.

      ‘Yes, as in vows and rings and stuff.’

      ‘Marriage is a whole lot more than vows and rings and stuff,’ she said. ‘It’s a legally binding agreement between two people who are supposed to love one another and promise to do so until death parts them.’

      ‘So we’re not exactly up to scratch on all the particulars but we can still pull this off,’ he said.

      ‘You sound as if you’re discussing some sort of business proposal.’

      ‘That’s exactly what I’m discussing. A business proposal.’

      Mia frowned as she tried to take it all in. ‘You mean this won’t really be a real marriage?’

      ‘It will be real in the sense that it will be official and legal. I can’t risk someone uncovering it as a sham but as for us being a normal couple…’ he hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, ‘well, of course it won’t be real.’

      She moistened her bone-dry lips. ‘So we won’t be…you know…’

      His dark eyes met hers. ‘Having sex?’

      ‘Yes…’