Pretending with the Greek Billionaire (7 page)

Constance hesitated. Part of her wanted to delve into what he’d said. Deciding not to have children because you didn’t want them stalked by photographers was a special kind of depressing. She could understand to a degree. For someone like her who craved security and organization, the chaos and constant danger created by always being hounded would drive her insane. At the same time, how unutterably sad that the fame that made this man so sought after was also what might keep him alone for the rest of his life. However, the larger, more cautious part of her knew he wouldn’t welcome her commentary on the matter. So, for the moment anyway, she’d keep her mouth shut and focus on the children in her care.

“I guess that makes sense… I suppose if you can guarantee their safety…”

“I’ve already said I can.”

She nodded and let the matter drop. They pulled to a stop in front of her modest home and Luca jumped out. Constance opened her door before he could but he took her hand and helped her out, his eyes briefly scanning the bushes across the street from her house.

She looked over her shoulder, dismay filling her. “You think they’re here, too?”

“Probably,” he muttered. “Let’s get inside.”

She didn’t waste any more time asking questions but unlocked her door and got inside as quickly as she could.

As soon as stepped over the threshold, she let out a little sigh of relief. The cool interior of the whitewashed walls welcomed her home. She didn’t have much furniture. Everything she had served a purpose. With six children under the roof, some clutter was inevitable. But she did what she could to minimize it. Thankfully, the girls weren’t home at the moment. Mrs. Ballas probably had them down at the market getting supplies for the week.

Constance glanced at Luca, watched as he walked around the open living room that led into her undersized kitchen. Her home must seem ridiculously small to him, but she loved it. Everything about it, from the deep, overstuffed sofa to the short bookcases lining the wall under the large windows was inviting and comfortable. Decorated in shades of blue, yellow, and white, her home was bright and cheerful and her heart soared with happiness every time she stepped through the doors.

The room seemed much smaller with Luca standing in it, but even he wasn’t immune to its charms, it seemed. Some of the tension had loosened up his shoulders as he roamed around. She’d fully expected him to turn his pampered nose up at her humble home, but she didn’t see any condescension in him when he turned back to her.

“It’s charming,” he said.

She laughed at his tone. “You sound surprised.”

He shrugged. “Not sure what I expected. Some nightmare hive of filing cabinets and clipboards maybe.”

She rolled her eyes at him and nodded toward several suitcases sitting by the door. The girls had been so excited at their upcoming “vacation” it had taken hours to get them to sleep. They’d each packed a bag, but she’d have to have Mrs. Ballas make sure they had what they needed. Constance hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before so she’d put her time to good use, packing everything she’d need for the long six weeks ahead.

“You can take those out to the car. I have to grab a few more things.”

His eyebrows rose and she had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her smile. She supposed it wasn’t every day that the illustrious Luca Vasilakis played bellhop. It filled her with a surprising amount of pleasure to be the one to give him orders.

She went into her bedroom and grabbed her small overnight bag, dumping her jewelry box into it. Thankfully Mrs. Ballas had her own cottage next door or they’d have had to share the room. Constance wouldn’t mind having the older woman live with her, but it did give them a bit more space without her there. And as Mrs. Ballas was technically a sort of housekeeper/nanny, having her own space gave her somewhere to hide when she needed a break.

Constance wouldn’t mind hiding out for a while herself, but Luca was waiting. She went into the bathroom to gather her makeup and toiletries. She took a last look around, making sure she had everything. It wasn’t like she couldn’t come back if she forgot something. In fact, she was hoping to get away to her little refuge as often as she could. Surely she wouldn’t have to spend twenty-four hours a day with Luca. She didn’t think her sanity could stand it.

Chapter Seven

Luca stepped into Constance’s bedroom and looked around—bright, neat, and organized. Just like the rest of the house. Just like her. The bed with its colorful quilt was neatly made and while there were several soft pillows neatly arranged, it wasn’t stacked high with decorative nonsense that never got used.

He pushed on the mattress a few times. A little soft for his tastes but definitely firm enough to support some vigorous recreation. He grinned, envisioning Constance’s lovely face flushing bright red if he were to bring the suggestion up to her. He might just have to do that. Few things were more fun, he was discovering, than pushing Miss McMurty’s numerous buttons.

A cushy looking chair next to the window sat beside yet another bookcase, a dresser with a mirror, and small end tables on either side of the bed. Everything about her home was comfortable and served a purpose, the complete opposite of his own home. Hell, he had entire rooms in his house he’d never even gone in. Bedrooms that had never been slept in. Knick-knacks he hadn’t picked out. He’d always loved his house, but compared to Constance’s place his house was more like a hotel than an actual home.

He flopped down on her bed and turned to the bathroom door. She came out and froze when she saw him lying there. Her eyes widened, her luscious mouth pursed with disapproval. He didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. God, she was fun to tease. He lazily rubbed a hand over the spot next to him.

“Care to join me?”

Her lips pinched more. “No, thank you,” she said, her voice cold and distant though her eyes roamed over his body and a blush stole across her cheeks.

“Come on. Why not give it a try and see how you like it?”

The pink in her face turned bright scarlet and she turned away from him, depositing a toiletry case and some bottles of shampoo and conditioner into a bag near the door. “You really are an ass, you know that?”

Luca barked out a laugh, surprised once again. “I’ve been told so once or twice.”

She snorted. “I’m sure it’s been more than once or twice.”

He laughed again and swung his legs off the bed. She watched him come toward her, her eyes wary but unwavering. She didn’t lack a backbone, that was for sure. Luca found it refreshing. He seemed to be surrounded by people only too willing to say and do whatever it was they thought would please him. She’d give it to him straight every time. He had the irresistible urge to needle her as much as he could just to see how she’d react.

She didn’t budge an inch, even when he stepped so close to her only a breath of air separated them. Instead, she looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked.

“I can’t quite figure out why you continue to feel it necessary to invade my personal space. Do you have a hard time hearing or seeing me from a respectable distance? Maybe Joseph needs to make you an appointment for some glasses. Or a hearing aid.”

He chuckled, the thrill of the chase running through him. He leaned closer until she was forced to take a step back. Right up against the wall. “I
like
being in your personal space.”

She tried to frown but the expression didn’t quite make it all the way. “Well, I don’t like it.”

“Now, that’s not true.” He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and lifted the other to draw a finger down her cheek. “Why do you blush every time I come near you then?”

“It’s ninety degrees out and you keep insisting on forcing your body heat on me. It’s not desire; it’s heat stroke,” she said, raising her pert little chin in the air.

His finger trailed down the column of her neck, skimming over the pulse beating furiously beneath her skin. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “Why is your blood racing?”

“Because you’re making me angry,” she retorted, with a voice not quite as steady as it had been.

“Hmm.” His fingers stroked along her collarbone and she shivered. What he wouldn’t love to do to this woman. “I think you’re lying…to me and yourself.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“That’s not true, either.”

She glared at him. “You don’t know me, Mr. Vasilakis. So you’re really not qualified to make that assumption, are you?”

He gazed into her eyes and could almost see her slapping her defenses in place. There was a sensual woman under the surface of all that control, begging to be released. He couldn’t wait to see the passion she was capable of when she truly gave in to her own desires.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a grip on himself. What the hell was he thinking? Yes, he wanted her, but she wasn’t the type he could have fun with and then walk away from. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he had a feeling she’d get under his skin, and that was the last thing he wanted. Too risky, too much to lose.

He glanced down, his eyes raking over her from her stylishly clad feet in their shiny new sandals, to her shapely legs, the hem of her white cotton sundress just skimming her knees, the dress merely hinting at the delicious body that hid beneath it. But most of all it was the intelligence and compassion radiating from those intense eyes that stared into his own, the strength and beauty that shone from her that she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. She was different, this woman, from any he’d known before. She was dangerous.

And still he wanted her.

He stepped away. He’d have to be content with the few tastes he got playing it up for the cameras. Anything else might lead down a road he had no desire to travel.

She watched him, her brow creased in confusion. He almost laughed. She wasn’t the only one confused.

“Do you have all you need?” he asked.

She frowned, but nodded.

“Good, let’s go. I’m sure Joe is anxiously waiting for us back home.”

She nodded again and followed him to the door. Her bags were still sitting there but he gathered them up with a roll of his eyes.

“Can you get the door?” he asked, laying on the sugar-sweet sarcasm as thickly as possible.

“Of course.” She grinned at him and opened the door.

The shouting began the second the door swung open. Constance gasped and jumped back, slamming the door shut again.

Luca sighed. He’d hoped to be able to ease her into the whole three-ring circus. Or at least run her through orientation. How to be a Stalked Celebrity 101. Oh well. A crash course would have to do.

“Walk straight to the car, don’t look at them, don’t hesitate, but don’t duck your head. As long as they can get some shots, they might not press in too much. Do you have any sunglasses?”

She nodded, her face pale. “In my bag,” she said, licking her lips. She fumbled around until she found them.

“Put them on. They’ll help with the flashes. You ready?”

She nodded again, a little less sure this time, but ready to charge anyway. Impressive.

He handed her one of the bags so he’d have an arm free and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He opened the door and ushered her out. The shouting came from all directions. People calling his name, asking questions. Who was she? Was it serious? Were those suitcases hers? Where were they going?

Constance kept her head held high and marched straight to the car, only pausing now and then when one of the men would crowd too close. Luca kept an arm around her, pulling her closer. Once again, he thought how stupid he’d been to head out without Joe. By himself, it might not have been so bad, but with Constance in tow there was a fresh story to be had. A juicy one. And everyone wanted to be the first to get a piece of it.

He plastered a smile on his face, tried to look good-naturedly bored, as if all the attention meant nothing to him. It did mean something, but the photographers probably wouldn’t find it very flattering. So he did what he could to appease them. Besides, he and Constance needed to get in the papers; that was the whole point of their arrangement.

When they got to the car, Luca pulled Constance around for a second so the photographers could get some shots of them standing together.

“Smile,” he muttered to her.

She glanced up at him, momentarily surprised, but she rallied quickly enough, letting a shy and overwhelmed smile show, though her face was still white as a sheet.

“All right, that’s enough for now,” Luca said, opening the door so she could slip inside.

The vultures moaned and kept shouting questions at him. Luca shoved the luggage in the trunk and headed to the driver’s side.

“Sorry, guys. My fiancée is exhausted. I need to get her home. Thanks!” he said, sliding into the car amid a fresh wave of exclamations.

“What was that?” she asked him.

“What?” He eased out of her driveway, careful not to hit any of them. Not that it would bother him particularly if one of them got a teensy bit injured, but it would make his day more of a pain.

“I thought you hated them,” she said.

“I do hate them. They hound me night and day no matter where I go or what I’m doing. The novelty of that kind of attention wore off a long time ago.”

“Then what were you doing making us stand there and pose for them, and telling them flat out that I was your fiancée?”

“I thought you understood the whole point of this little charade.”

“I do, but it seems strange that you’d court their attention when you say you hate it so much.”

He shrugged. “They can be useful sometimes too. We need to get in the papers, on all the social media sites. Well, we just did. A couple good shots of us together here and from the store, that ring flashing on your hand, your luggage in the trunk of my car, and more shots of us pulling into my estate, and twenty minutes from now the whole world will know we’re engaged. I’m sure the shots from the jewelry store are already being spread around with speculation as to what’s going on. I confirmed it for them.”

“I hardly think it’ll be that fast.”

Luca snorted. “Trust me. Face it, Miss McMurty. In less than an hour the whole world is going to know your face.”