Greek Bachelors: Buying His Bride. Julia James

in order to have noticed you must have been looking at me too,’ Chantal offered logically, and he inhaled sharply.

      ‘You danced as though we were already horizontal in the bedroom.’

      ‘You danced too.’

      Her comment did nothing to alleviate his temper. He muttered something in Greek that she just knew would be better off not translated.

      ‘I ought to congratulate you.’ He switched back to English, his derisive tone suggesting that congratulations were the last thing on his mind. ‘I thought I’d been on the receiving end of every possible trick, but you took the whole thing to an entirely new level.’

      ‘You’re obviously very angry, but—’

      ‘You’re right, I’m angry. Over the years various women have gone to enormous lengths to attract my attention. They pose as businesswomen, they apply for a job with me, they book tables in restaurants where I am dining, they hover outside my house in the hope of bumping into me. Sometimes they just turn up in my office wearing next to nothing, in the hope that they’ll attract my attention.’

      ‘Really?’ Astonished that some women had the confidence to go to those lengths to meet someone, Chantal gaped at him. ‘Gosh. That’s amazing.’

      ‘It is not amazing. It is intrusive and unacceptable.’

      ‘It must be one of the drawbacks of being a billionaire, I suppose. Can’t you laugh about it?’

      He threw her an incredulous glance and sucked in a breath. ‘It is not amusing. Particularly when a woman stoops so low as to target my father in order to gain my attention.’

      ‘Ah.’ Finally sensing the direction of the conversation, Chantal gave an awkward shrug. ‘Actually, that wasn’t exactly what happened.’

      The expression on his handsome face was grim as he surveyed her. ‘That is exactly what happened. Having danced with me, you then targeted him—like the greedy, unscrupulous, predatory woman you so clearly are.’

      ‘I didn’t know he was your father until you arrived with the drinks. And he approached me.’

      ‘Of course he did. My father’s fatal weakness is beautiful women—a fact of which you were well aware.’

      ‘I knew nothing about your father until that night.’ Until he’d rescued her. ‘I really liked him.’

      Angelos shot her a look so fierce it would have stopped a riot. ‘I’m sure you did. He’s rich. And you have a taste for rich men—don’t you, Isabelle?’

      ‘Do I?’

      ‘Obviously. Given that you have already fleeced two in divorce settlements—one of them older than my father. For a woman of twenty six, you’ve been extremely busy.’

      Chantal gasped. This Isabelle woman had married two men? One of them considerably older than her?

      Perhaps continuing to let him believe that she was Isabelle hadn’t been such a sensible idea, after all.

      The situation was going from bad to worse, and it was obvious that she just needed to walk away from it and try and put the whole thing behind her.

      ‘I’m obviously not your favourite person right now,’ she ventured cautiously, ‘so why am I here? Why did you come looking for me?’

      ‘Because of the lies you told my father.’

      ‘Lies?’ Shrinking at the memory of that particular conversation, Chantal stood there helplessly. She couldn’t explain without revealing things about herself that she’d spent her life concealing.

      ‘You told him that we were in love—that you fell in love with me the first moment you saw me. Is it coming back to you yet, or do you need me to carry on?’

      ‘Well—I didn’t exactly—it was more that he assumed—’

      A muscle flickered in his lean jaw. ‘And did you correct him?’

      Chantal breathed in and out. ‘No.’

      ‘Of course you didn’t.’ His tone was silky smooth. ‘Presumably because your plan was all coming together nicely.’

      ‘How does talking to your father bring me closer to marrying you?’ Chantal wondered briefly what had made him so suspicious of women.

      ‘You saw his face. You saw how delighted he was when he thought we were together.’

      ‘He’s obviously very keen to see you married,’ Chantal said, her expression softening at the thought of his father. ‘But I’m sure when you explained that it was all a misunderstanding he understood.’

      Angelos tensed and turned away from her, his broad shoulders rigid with tension. ‘Unfortunately I wasn’t able to do that.’

      ‘Why not?’

      He turned back to face her and a muscle flickered in his lean jaw. ‘My father had a heart attack that night. He was in hospital here in Paris for a week and then I had him flown back to Greece.’

      ‘No!’ Genuinely distressed by that piece of news, Chantal lifted her hand to her mouth and shook her head. ‘Please tell me that isn’t true—’

      His eyes darkened ominously. ‘You think I would joke about such a thing?’

      ‘No! I just—’ She felt as though something was crumbling inside her and she rubbed her fingers across her forehead, trying desperately to pull herself together. What was the matter with her? He wasn’t her father. It was ridiculous to feel this way. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that—is he going to be all right?’

      ‘Why would you care?’

      ‘Because I liked him so much. Is he recovering?’

      ‘According to the doctors, his recovery so far has been nothing short of miraculous. Apparently he has been clinging to life, determined to live long enough to witness my marriage to the wonderful woman he saw me with that night at the ball.’ His tone was acid. ‘It seems that our “relationship” has given him a reason to live.’

      ‘I’m glad he’s going to be all right, but—’ Chantal stared at him in growing dismay as his words sunk in ‘—you didn’t—you haven’t told him the truth, then?’

      ‘What do you think?’

      That he was a man who loved his father. Greek. Family mattered to Greeks. ‘Obviously you didn’t want to as he was poorly, and no one would blame you for that.’ Feeling awkward, she cleared her throat. ‘So that means he still thinks that we—that we’re—’

      ‘In love,’ Angelos slotted in helpfully. ‘Crazy about each other. All the things you told him that night. When he finally regained consciousness he distracted himself from the stresses of hospital by lying in bed naming his grandchildren.’

      ‘Oh—’ Chantal breathed out heavily and thought quickly. ‘So obviously you’re waiting to find the right time to explain that there was a misunderstanding?’

      ‘And when do you think he’d like to hear that piece of unwelcome news?’ His tone was biting. ‘Before or after his next heart attack—which, according to the specialists, is a distinct possibility.’

      Chantal was horrified. ‘I seriously hope they’re wrong about that.’

      ‘So,’ he said grimly, ‘do I.’

      ‘I hope he’s resting.’

      ‘He is currently staying on my island in Greece.’

      ‘Your island?’ He had an island? It was just as well she hadn’t known who he was, Chantal thought weakly, because she never would have had the courage to talk to him in the first place. ‘He’s on his own on an island? Is that the best place for him?’

      ‘He