Julia James - Purchased for Passion

The two staff stopped outside one of the doors and glanced back at him. He gave a nod, and one of them knocked discreetly.

Inside the room, Anna paused, dropping her hands from her back. What on earth…? The knock came again. Hastily doing up her hooks again, for decency’s sake, she crossed over and opened the door. Outside were two of the household staff, each bearing a huge tray covered with a linen cloth.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, taken aback. ‘I mean—um— Entschuldigen Sie bitte, aber Ich habe nicht… ’

Her sketchy German failed her. She had no idea how to say she had not ordered anything.

The man merely bowed slightly and swept in, followed by the second man. They set both trays down on the low table in front of a pair of armchairs by the window, and removed the cloths.

An entire light supper was contained on the trays—including, she saw, a bottle of chilled white wine, a flagon of orange juice, a jug of mineral water and a coffee pot.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t ask for—’ she began.

‘But I, however, did.’ A deep, familiar voice interrupted her.

She whipped round. There, in the doorway, stood Leo Makarios.

For a moment Anna just stared, unable to believe her eyes.

Let alone what was happening.

He strolled into her room.

He was still in evening dress, still looking impeccable, as only a man of his height, wealth and looks could look, but there was a faint shadow along his jaw that somehow suddenly made him look—

Sexy.

The word came out of nowhere into her brain, and the moment it formed she was horrified.

She opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But her mind was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Predominant was disbelief. Sheer disbelief that Leo Makarios was strolling into her bedroom, one hand in his trouser pocket, looking as though he had every right to be there.

The two members of his household staff evidently thought so. They were diligently laying out their wares on the low table, deftly and neatly, placing a large plate of thinly sliced smoked chicken, ham and salmon together with a bowl of salad and a basket of bread in the centre, with porcelain plates and silver cutlery nestling in white damask napkins. Crystal glasses followed suit, and then a coffee service and drinks and a plate of tiny chocolate truffles.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ said Leo Makarios, indicating one of the armchairs. He simultaneously lowered his tall frame into the other one.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? She wanted to scream at him.

But the presence of the two staff made it impossible. Good grief, the last thing she wanted was to make a public scene that would inevitably feed back into the gossip machine that was always at work around the rich and famous.

Every nerve screwed tight, she urged them mentally to clear out. Because the moment they were gone she would—

‘Gnadige Fraulein ?’ One of the staff was indicating her chair, bowing politely. The other was busy opening the wine.

Oh, hell, she would have to sit down, pretend that—my goodness—no, of course there was nothing strange in the castle’s multimillionaire owner turning up to have a little midnight supper with her!

Stiffly, she sat down, carefully ensuring the narrow skirts of her excruciatingly valuable dress were not catching on anything. Her face was a mask. But behind the mask her emotions were tumbling like a wash cycle set to crazy.

Skirts settled, and ignoring the fact that her back was imperfectly fastened, she looked up, ready to aim a killing glare at him.

Instead, she just stared, the breath stalling in her throat.

Leo Makarios was loosening his dress tie and slipping the top button on his shirt.

That, and the shadowed jawline, made her heart stop beating.

Oh, dear God, he is just so —

The word slipped straight into her mind—right out of her subconscious.

Sexy.

It was that word again, coming out of nowhere—refusing to go. She had heard it a million times—it was one of the most popular in the fashion world. But it had never meant anything at all to her. It was just people posing and pouting and putting it on for the camera or an audience.

With Leo Makarios it was real.

And it was, she realised, standing there as if someone had punched her in the solar plexus, incredibly powerful.

She tried desperately to analyse it away. It was just the juxtaposition of contrasting modes, that was all—the severe formality of the tuxedo with the raffish informality of a loosened tie and shirt, accentuated by the roughened jawline.

But the effect didn’t diminish. Quite the reverse, it simply gained potency, aided and abetted by the way his lean frame lounged back in supreme ease, long legs stretched out, hands curved over the arms of the chair, head resting on the chairback, those dark heavy-lidded eyes resting on her.

Looking at her.

Letting her look back.

Suddenly she did not want the household staff to disappear. She didn’t want to be alone with Leo Makarios.

Anna could feel a heat flaring out from somewhere deep inside her. She tried to douse it, extinguish it, but it wouldn’t be cooled. Instead it curled and spread through her as she just sat there, drinking in the man sitting opposite her, now being offered a taste of the wine that had just been opened.

She saw him sample the wine, saw him nod, saw the member of staff turn to fill her glass and then his employer’s, then be dismissed with his colleague, saw them both bowing briefly and then quitting the room, shutting the door behind them.

Leaving her alone with Leo Makarios.

With huge effort she quashed down the dangerous pooling heat inside her.

She opened her mouth to speak, protest his uninvited presence.

But Leo Makarios was before her.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘Mahlzeit.’

Anna’s mouth snapped shut again.

‘ What ?’

‘ Mahlzeit, ’ he repeated, in his accented voice. His eyes gleamed slightly. ‘Have you not heard that yet? Austrians invariably pronounce that to each other before eating. It means mealtime. It appears to be their version of bon appetit. Now, what may I help you to?’

He picked up the serving spoon and fork and let them hover over the plate of meats and salmon.

She took a deep breath.

‘Mr Makarios—’ she began.

He looked up. ‘Leo,’ he said. ‘I think we can dispense with the formalities now. Theos, it’s been a long evening! But,’ he went on, calmly selecting a slice of smoked chicken and placing it on her empty plate, ‘a highly successful one. Ham and salmon?’

‘No, thank you,’ she snapped. ‘Mr Makarios, I—’

The dark eyes lifted to her.

‘Leo,’ he said softly. ‘So, just chicken, then?’ He placed another slice on her plate. ‘Salad?’

‘No! I don’t want any food. I don’t want—’

He scooped up some salad and added it to her plate.

‘I ate very little this evening, and you ate absolutely nothing. You must be hungry.’

I’m always hungry, she wanted to snap. But if I eat I’ll put on weight and lose jobs. So I don’t eat. And I ignore hunger!

But even as the words formed in her mind she felt a treacherous pang in her stomach. She didn’t usually starve herself as she had done this evening. That was just counter-productive. But tonight had been so nerve-racking because of having to stay glued to Leo’s side that the very idea of eating some of the buffet food, however delicious, had been impossible. She had planned to have herbal tea and an orange—she never travelled without either—to see her through to breakfast in the morning.

But the sight and smell of the beautifully prepared and presented food was so enticing. The hunger pang came again. The scent of a freshly baked roll wafted to her. She felt her willpower weaken.