And doubtless if Sebastien Fiorukis were there then it would be considered the ‘in’ place to be seen, she thought helplessly. He was a man who set trends, a man who others followed.

She clutched the sheet. ‘I don’t feel like going out.’

‘Your feelings on the matter are completely irrelevant,’ he informed her in a bored tone. ‘I wish to make an appearance with my new wife.’

‘I’m not getting dressed.’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Then I take you naked,’ he promised softly, his dark eyes glittering dangerously as he surveyed her. ‘It’s your decision, pethi mou. You’re my wife and part of your role is to entertain.’

‘I thought I just did,’ she said tartly and he gave an appreciative smile.

‘That sort of entertainment is for me alone, agape mou,’ he drawled lazily. ‘What I had in mind was something more formal. I am meeting some very important guests. I need you to charm them.’

Her jaw lifted stubbornly and she tried a different tack. ‘I don’t have a single thing to wear—’

He gave the sigh of a male vastly experienced in the challenges presented by female attire. ‘On the day of our wedding two weeks ago I furnished you with an indecent sum of money to add to your already indecent fortune,’ he reminded her in a silky tone. ‘Doubtless you have spent the last two entire weeks shopping. Pick something suitable and wear it.’

She swallowed painfully. What was she supposed to say? That she hadn’t been near a shop in the two weeks since their wedding?

‘I—I haven’t bought anything—’

His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. ‘Every single penny of the money I gave you has gone from your account,’ he said softly. ‘You withdrew the whole lot, my hot, sexy wife, so don’t tell me that you haven’t been spending because I won’t believe you.’

Panic slithered over her bones as she realized that he was obviously tracking her spending. How could she have been so naïve as to think he wouldn’t know? Did he know where the money had gone? No, or he would have said something.

‘I—I bought different things,’ she hedged, sitting upright and grabbing at the sheet before it slid to her waist.

With a disbelieving glance in her direction, he prowled into the enormous dressing room that adjoined their bedroom.

Alesia closed her eyes and waited in a state of unbelievable tension for the inevitable explosion.

There was a long, pulsing silence and then he strolled back to the bedroom and picked up the phone again, barking out a set of commands in rapid Greek.

Resolving to learn Greek as soon as possible, Alesia discovered that she was still holding her breath and released it suddenly.

He must have seen that her wardrobes were totally empty and yet he hadn’t said a word.

What was going on?

‘Use the shower,’ he ordered, lifting a bottle of champagne out of an ice bucket and handing it to her. ‘By the time you’ve finished, the clothes will have arrived.’

‘What clothes?’

‘The clothes I have just ordered for you,’ he said with all the casual assurance of someone with a bottomless bank account. She looked at him nervously. Suddenly he seemed very intimidating.

What was she going to say to him when he finally demanded answers on how she’d spent the money?

Her mind in overdrive, searching for plausible excuses, she stumbled into the luxurious bathroom and stood under the revitalizing spray of the shower. Suddenly she had a new awareness of her body and, after five minutes of searing-hot water and several applications of various luxurious shower foams, she realized that nothing was going to wash away the memory of Sebastien’s own heady brand of lovemaking.

Filled with a self-loathing that all the water in the world couldn’t quench, Alesia turned off the shower, dried herself quickly and wrapped herself in a large fluffy towel that virtually covered her from neck to toe.

Suitably concealed, she lifted her chin and strolled back into the bedroom with as much aloof dignity as she could muster.

Immediately her eyes were drawn to a rail packed with clothes and she stared at the rail and then back at him in amazement. ‘Where did these come from? You didn’t have time to go to a shop—’

‘If you’re rich then the shop comes to you,’ he informed her smoothly, ‘but, as the pampered granddaughter of Dimitrios Philipos, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that.’

She swallowed, her eyes still on the rail.

Stores brought the clothes to him?

Noticing a selection of expensive cosmetics laid out on a nearby table, she blinked in amazement. It seemed that nothing had been left to chance.


Tags: Sarah Morgan Billionaire Romance
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