The Mills & Boon Stars Collection. Cathy Williams

had paraded around for his benefit in one outfit after another. A vast wardrobe was being assembled for her use. She was stunned by that reality as well. For goodness’ sake, was Bastien planning to keep her for the rest of her life—and his? How would she ever wear even a quarter of these clothes while she was with him? This was a male who was famed for barely lasting a month with one woman. Yet she had been equipped with countless wardrobe choices—indeed, everything a woman could conceivably want for every possible occasion and every season. Late afternoon had already stretched well into evening to encompass the shopping trip.

      ‘We’ll go back to the hotel now for dinner,’ Bastien proposed, as if no dispute had taken place.

      Lilah returned to the changing cubicle and selected a skirt and top from the rack to put on. She was being torn in two. On one level she wanted to fight Bastien, but on another she wanted to give him what he wanted to keep him happy. After all, how much was her own pride really worth when she could still clearly recall her father’s renewed energy and hope?

      What Bastien had given could easily be taken away again, she reflected fearfully. By giving her father a job, Bastien had revitalised the older man’s drive and confidence. She should be grateful, she told herself urgently, but it was no use—she was too idealistic for such practicality. Unlike Bastien, she wanted sex to come packaged with romance and commitment.

      Bastien took her back to an exclusive hotel and a very spacious suite. There were two bedrooms, and in the doorway of the first, Bastien paused to say, ‘This is your room. I like my own space.’

      Relieved by the news that she would not have to share a bedroom and surrender all privacy, Lilah watched as the hotel staff carted in the boxes and bags containing her brand-new wardrobe as well as a sizeable collection of designer luggage.

      Bastien turned to grasp the phone extended to him by one of his personal assistants. Lean, strong face intent, he began talking urgently in French while raising an impatient hand to summon his team. As he spoke he strode to the desk in the large reception room, where a laptop had already been set up for his use.

      His attention had drifted away from Lilah at supersonic speed. She watched his staff move into action, unfurling phones and tablets to follow Bastien’s instructions. One name was mentioned repeatedly—Dufort Pharmaceuticals.

      She kicked off her high heels and switched on the television in the far corner of the room. The fancy evening meal she had expected to eat in Bastien’s company did not materialise. Instead, about an hour later waiters arrived with trolleys of buffet food to feed staff more interested in standing upright to eat than sitting down.

      ‘Delilah!’ Bastien called across the length of the room. ‘Eat...you must be hungry by now.’

      ‘Starving,’ she admitted, padding over to him barefoot to grasp the plate he extended, daunted by the sheer size of him when she stood next to him without her shoes.

      ‘A promising business deal has come up,’ Bastien confided, studying her casually tousled hair and teeny-tiny bare toes, admiring the lack of vanity that allowed her to relax to that extent in his presence. She didn’t care about impressing him, and he respected her innate sense of self-worth.

      ‘I guessed that...’ Lilah hid her amusement, delighted not to be the sole focus of his attention.

      Ebony brows pleating, Bastien watched Delilah curl up on the sofa to return to the reality show she was watching. She was simply accepting that business came first for him without either taking offence or angling for a greater share of his attention. Yet, watching her relax back into the sofa and start eating with appetite, Bastien wondered if he should be the one taking offence—because it really wasn’t a compliment that she should be so unconcerned by his preoccupation.

      Becoming bored after an hour, Delilah switched off the television and crammed her feet back into the shoes she had kicked off to stand up. It was too early for bed and she was restless.

      ‘Where are you going?’ Bastien asked as she moved towards the door.

      ‘For a walk. I need a break.’

      Delilah was stepping into the lift when, to her surprise, one of Bastien’s security team joined her.

      ‘Is Bastien scared I’m going to run away?’ she gasped in frustration, recognising the young man.

      ‘I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.’ Her companion sighed. ‘My instructions are not to let you out of my sight.’

      ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

      ‘Ciro.’

      ‘I’m Lilah,’ she responded with a rueful smile, knowing that it wasn’t fair to take her irritation out on Ciro, who was only guilty of doing his job.

      A pianist was playing in the low-lit bar on the ground floor. Sitting down, Lilah ordered a drink. Ciro retreated to a table by the wall and left her in peace. Wishing she had thought to tuck a book into her bag, Lilah decided to catch up on her phone calls instead.

      She rang her father first. Robert Moore talked non-stop to his daughter about Bastien’s plans for the business and the advantages of the new location Bastien had picked for the firm. Lilah followed up that call with one to Vickie, learning that her dog, Skippy, had been picked up on schedule by a transport firm that morning.

      She was replacing her phone in her bag when a blonde woman sat down without warning in the seat opposite her. Lilah looked up in disconcertion.

      ‘You’re staying here with Bastien Zikos, aren’t you?’ the woman pressed with a smile.

      Lilah’s brows pleated. ‘Why are you asking me that?’

      ‘I’m Jenny Gower and I write for the women’s page on the Daily Pageant,’ the blonde told Lilah cheerfully, setting a business card down in front of her. ‘That’s my number. Feel free to call me any time you’d like a chat. Bastien’s a real favourite with our readers and we like to keep up to date with his latest ladies.’

      The woman was a reporter, Lilah realised in dismay. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ she said uncomfortably.

      ‘Don’t be shy. We pay generously for even little titbits.’

      Without warning Ciro appeared at her elbow and intervened. ‘Lilah...you’re talking to a journalist.’

      Lilah stiffened. ‘We’re not actually talking. I was just about to leave.’

      And with that last word Lilah finished her drink and left the table.

      ‘Mr Zikos loathes gossip columnists,’ Ciro warned her with a grimace. ‘I’ll try to avoid mentioning the fact that you were approached.’

      When Lilah returned to the suite Bastien was in the act of dismissing his staff for the night. ‘I was planning to come down and join you,’ he informed her.

      Lilah flinched and coloured, focusing on Bastien with her heart in her mouth.

      Annoyance flared in Bastien when he recognised the apprehension flashing in her gaze. Women didn’t shrink from him; they wanted him. She must’ve been telling the truth about her inexperience, he concluded grimly. Only ignorance could explain such an attitude. It was surely past time that he showed her that she had nothing to fear from him.

      ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked lazily, strolling closer.

      ‘No, thanks,’ she said jerkily.

      Bastien crossed the room and scooped her right off her feet. Loosing a startled gasp, she wriggled like an electrified eel, strands of coconut-scented hair brushing his cheek as she moved her head back and forth.

      ‘Relax,’ he urged.

      ‘Are you kidding?’ Lilah exclaimed.

      ‘You said you were a virgin. You didn’t tell me that you were a hysterical one,’ Bastien derided.

      Lilah froze in his arms as though she had been slapped.