Greek Tycoon's Virgin Wife by Helen Bianchin -

Author:Helen Bianchin - [-, Helen Bianchin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-26T17:41:40+00:00

Her features paled as comprehension dawned. ‘Someone took photographs?’

‘Yes.’

Even if a photograph didn’t appear in newsprint, an account of the accident would. Xandro Caramanis was newsworthy, and the fact he was at the scene…

‘Hell.’

Ilana closed her eyes against the sight of him, and felt the brush of his mouth on her own.

‘Try to get some sleep.’

It was the last thing she remembered, and when she woke next it was morning, the nurses were doing their rounds and Xandro sat stretched out in a chair beside her bed.

Events of the previous night flashed before her eyes in graphic detail, and she carefully stretched her body, testing to feel where it hurt.

Stiffness where the seat belt had provided restraint, and her shoulder ached a little. But overall, not too bad. ‘How do you feel?’

Ilana turned her head slightly and met Xandro’s dark gaze, then said the first thing that came to mind. ‘You’re still here.’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t be?’

He’d relived the moment of impact countless times, the fuelled urgency to get her out of the car and away from danger. Together with the suspicion the crash scene had been no accident.

‘I’ll get dressed and leave.’

‘After breakfast, when the doctor has seen you.’

Enough already. ‘I’ve complied with medical advice,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, I’m out of here.’ She pressed the buzzer for the nurse, only to be felled by hospital protocol.

Which didn’t help at all, and the doctor’s appearance while she reluctantly sampled food from her breakfast tray did little to appease.

It didn’t take long to change into her clothing, which even she had to admit looked faintly incongruous at nine in the morning, and her attempt to order a cab at Reception was firmly dismissed by Xandro.

‘No cab.’

‘I can manage on my own.’

‘But you won’t.’

Ilana shot him a level look, and refrained from saying a word until Xandro slid the Bentley to a halt adjacent the entrance to her apartment building.

‘There’s no need—’

‘Protesting won’t alter a thing.’ He slid out of the car, crossed round the front of it and opened her door.

Capitulation was the wisest course, and after a moment’s hesitation she joined him.

She didn’t say a word as they passed through security and rode the lift to her apartment. Inside, she turned towards him.

‘Thanks.’

‘Go pack a bag.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard. Pack whatever you need for a few days. You’re not staying here alone.’ His tone brooked no argument, and she threw him a fulminating glare.

‘No.’

He pushed hands into his trouser pockets and stood regarding her with dangerous calm. ‘Someone made a serious attempt on your life last night.’ His eyes seared her own. ‘You’ll be safer in my home than here.’

‘What I want doesn’t count?’

‘In this instance…no. You want to pack? Or shall I?’

‘You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met!’

For a moment she seriously considered defying him, except there was a compelling ruthlessness apparent that didn’t bode well.

Given a choice, she’d prefer selecting what to pack, and she reluctantly retrieved a large backpack, tossed in a few changes of

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