Modern Romance July 2019 Books 5-8. Jane Porter

make me sound like a horrible human being.”

      “You don’t have to be horrible,” she said softly. “It’s a choice you make.” And then she shrugged and stepped around him, her shoulder bumping his chest as she pushed by, before continuing down the street, grateful she’d been to Chora before because it meant she knew how to get back to the harbor and out of these narrow, twisting streets.

      The speedboat was waiting for her, as if it had never left, and it ferried her back to the yacht anchored in the harbor.

      She kept her jaw set during the short trip, and as she climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. Once there she rang for staff and asked them to pack her things and move her to a different room, one that Mr. Alexopoulos’s female guests usually enjoyed.

      If he wanted his room, he could have his room.

      And if he wanted a marriage, it was going to be a partnership.

      She could appreciate the erotic sex, and she could handle his being dominant in the bedroom, but she wasn’t going to be a doormat out of the bedroom.

      She might not be beautiful, and she might not ever command admiration and respect from the rest of the world, but she refused to feel less than worthy in her new home.

      * * *

      Damen wandered around the charming old town with the whitewashed buildings and brightly painted doors in a temper. He didn’t know which upset him more: the fact that Kassiani had moved out of the master bedroom, or the brazen announcement that she didn’t need his money because she had her own. He also knew why she’d left the master bedroom—his flippant remark about it being his room had annoyed her—but he didn’t understand why she felt it necessary to brag about having her own money. Of course she had money. She was an heiress. The Dukases owned large chunks of San Francisco’s waterfront, a historic mansion in the most coveted neighborhood of the city, plus more valuable real estate all over the West Coast. So what did she think she was accomplishing by mentioning her wealth?

      What did she think she’d accomplish by throwing her weight around?

      After an hour of walking, he returned to the yacht, going to the master bedroom, but she was no longer there. He was informed by one of his maids that she’d changed rooms, taking a smaller room on another floor.

      Temper stirred all over again, he descended a flight of stairs, and knocked hard on the door of the guest room she’d claimed as her own.

      It took Kassiani forever to open it.

      She stood in the doorway in what looked like comfortable yoga pants and a soft T-shirt, her long thick hair loose and tumbling over her shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes wide, expression innocent. “Hello, Damen. How was your morning?”

      He had to draw a careful breath to check his temper. He was not going to fight with her. There would be no scene. “How are your new accommodations?” he asked, because he could match her at her game. She wanted civilized. He could give her civilized. “I hope the guest room will be sufficiently comfortable. The bed is much smaller, and there is no private deck, or I believe a jetted tub, but I suppose if you are craving a really long soak, you could use the master bathroom.”

      “Or I can visit your spa here on the yacht. It’s a very well-appointed spa.”

      “I spared no expense,” he agreed.

      “I’ve been able to take advantage of the spa on a daily basis, so thank you.”

      He gazed down into her upturned face, thinking the softness of her mouth, the pale pink flush in her cheeks and her firm chin belied her inner strength. Kassiani was nobody’s fool. He felt grudging respect. “So are you going to invite me in, or do I carry you back to the master bedroom?”

      Her nose wrinkled. She appeared to think, her head cocked, a finger tapping her chin. “Hmm. I wish I had remembered the details of that agreement better. Because there was something in that document about me being available for sex, on demand, and it was strange, because in the United States we have television like that. You can watch whatever you want when you want. Is that what you are thinking I would be? A wife on demand? With my very privates on demand?” Her brows pulled and she gave her head a faint, frustrated shake. “Maybe I should have paid better attention to that agreement.”

      “I knew I should have read it to you.”

      He enjoyed the flash of outrage in her dark eyes. Her eyes glowed hot, the little sparks of gold unusually bright right now. If he had an issue with her, it wasn’t with her desirability. He found Kassiani incredibly seductive. There wasn’t anything about her body he didn’t like. But she was never more beautiful and appealing than when she was unhappy with him. He usually didn’t like angry women, but Kassiani in a temper was absolutely arousing.

      He was getting hard just looking at her now, and seeing the defiant shine in her eyes and the set of her full lips.

      Maybe he shouldn’t be turned on right now, but he was, and he wondered if it was because she was the first woman who had ever truly stood up to him. He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had stood up to him. It was interesting. Maybe a little refreshing.

      “I feel as if I need to prepare a statement or tutorial for you, my husband, because I am happy to be in your bed, when you treat me as an equal. I am happy to be in your bed when you respect me. But I won’t be happy if you treat me as if I am something you own. I am not real estate. I am not your property. I am not a possession.”

      “You are making too much of the agreement. And there were benefits to you signing the agreement.”

      “Yes, I would receive extra bonuses with my allowance when we have smooth, drama-free weeks. To receive those bonuses, all I have to do is be compliant, serene and undemanding.” She smiled up at him and yet her smile was fierce. “You don’t like women very much, do you?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t like anyone very much.”

      “What happened to you to make you so...you? There are selfish men in the world, and there are arrogant men, and there are detached men, but you are without a doubt—”

      “I really am not interested in discussing my personality,” he interrupted, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. “Or whatever you perceive to be my personality—”

      “Disorder,” she now interjected.

      “Or disorder you want to assign me.” He smiled, and he could see that his smile infuriated her and his shaft just grew harder. What was it about her that made him want—even be willing—to engage her in these conversations? Because he didn’t allow criticism from others. He didn’t tolerate dissension, either. But with Kassiani, he gave her so much freedom. He was shockingly patient, and tolerant.

      And lenient.

      He smiled again, aware that his smile would provoke her. “I really don’t care about labels. I am who I am. I am comfortable with who I am.” He stopped talking and waited, curious to see what she’d do now. And Damen was never curious about anything. He wasn’t curious about anyone. What kind of power did Kassiani have over him?

      The silence was thick and crackling with energy. Kass lifted her chin, and looked him in the eye, her gaze locking with his. She was so mad at him, he could see it in the quiver of her lip, a lip she punished by biting into it.

      “Invite me in,” he said lazily, even though nothing in his body felt lazy. His erection ached in his trousers. His body tensed. He wanted to bury himself in her soft wet heat and make her arch and whimper and shatter.

      “Or what?” she flashed. “You’ll reduce my allowance? Take away my privileges?”

      When he didn’t answer quickly enough, she added, “And just what are those privileges, my dear husband? What do I get from this marriage besides money? Because there has to be something else I get from this relationship, otherwise what is my incentive to remain? I have money. I don’t need your money. What I need is something I can’t give myself.