The Millionaire's Virgin. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
would spend most of the journey seated beside him at the controls. But having given her permission there was little she could do about it and at least it had kept her sister occupied throughout the two-hour trip.
Arriving at the small port of Agios Petros had been rather nerve-racking. It had been dark, and although Paige hadn’t expected anyone to meet them at the quay she had anticipated that Nikolas would be waiting at the house. But she’d been wrong. When they’d emerged from the car that had brought them up from the harbour, Kiria Papandreiu had explained, albeit in barely comprehensible English, that Kirie Petronides was away. Where he was, she didn’t say; nor when he’d be back. But, once again, Paige got the impression that as employees they didn’t warrant that kind of information.
It was all a far cry from the last time she was here, she reflected wistfully, and then chided herself for allowing thoughts of that kind to colour her mood. She’d been a guest then, not a servant, and Nikolas had done his best to make both her and her father welcome.
But Parker Tennant hadn’t known what was really going on…
She stiffened now, smoothing down the calf-length skirt of her turquoise taffeta sheath. She’d hesitated some time before choosing the fairly formal outfit, but until she knew what was expected of her, she’d rather not take any chances. However, the clothes she’d bought for the trip, both for her and Sophie, had been off the peg. Sophie, who had grown in the last year, had needed a selection of summer clothes, but Paige herself had had to make do with a couple of dresses.
Fortunately her hair was easy to handle. Unlike Sophie’s, she wore it fairly short and straight, the simple bob curling under at her chin. When she’d known Nikolas before, her hair had been long and she’d worn it in a French braid, but that was in the days when a visit to the hairdressers’ was a weekly event.
She sighed, touching her hot cheeks with nervous fingers. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Sophie anyway, who seemed set to rival their mother’s looks when she’d been young. Paige had expressive green eyes and a generous mouth, but her features were not particularly memorable, which was why she’d never really believed that any of the men she’d dated had wanted her for herself.
A knock at the door aroused her apprehension. What now? she wondered anxiously, but it was only Sophie, who came into the room without waiting for a response. She’d changed, too, but the yellow slip dress she was wearing barely covered her bottom, and her clunky wedges clomped across the rug.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked, viewing Paige’s appearance with critical eyes. ‘Is that new? I don’t remember seeing it before.’
‘It’s not new,’ said Paige, wondering if she dared broach the subject of Sophie’s appearance, but her sister just pulled a face and sauntered over to the balcony doors.
‘I wonder what the view’s like from here?’ she mused, drawing back as a particularly large moth came and fluttered against the glass. ‘You did say you’d stayed here before, didn’t you? I couldn’t see much of the island as we drove up from the harbour, but the house seemed huge.’
‘It is.’ Paige chose her words with care. ‘Is that what you’re wearing for dinner?’
‘Well, I’m not going to get changed again,’ retorted Sophie, swinging round. She looked down at her dress. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
Paige hesitated. ‘Nothing, I suppose—’
‘Just because you like to wear frumpy clothes doesn’t mean I have to.’ Sophie’s jaw jutted belligerently. ‘I bet Paris would approve.’
Paige shrugged. ‘I dare say he would, if he could see you,’ she declared evenly. ‘But until we know what our position is here—’
‘I thought we did know,’ countered Sophie, frowning. ‘We’re going to keep some old man’s ward company. But don’t expect me to dress like a nanny. You can, but I’ve got better things to do.’
Paige shook her head, deciding not to pursue it right now, and changed the subject. ‘So,’ she said pleasantly, ‘have you unpacked your things and put them away?’
‘I’ve unpacked some,’ said Sophie carelessly. ‘I’ll do the rest in the morning.’ She scowled suddenly, turning on her high heels that added inches to her five-feet-six-inch height. ‘Hey, your room is bigger than mine. That’s not fair.’
Paige glanced about her. In all honesty, she’d paid little attention to the spacious apartment she’d been given. She’d noticed the bed was square, with a solid wooden frame, and that the quilt that covered it was made of hand-woven silk. But she’d scarcely admired the carved oak furniture or heeded the high arching ceiling above her head. There were rose chiffon curtains at the windows, she saw now, and richly patterned rugs dotted about the polished floor. In other circumstances, she wouldn’t have failed to be charmed by its simple elegance, and she could understand why Sophie was so impressed.
‘Do you want to swap?’ she asked.
‘No.’ Sophie had the grace to look slightly shamefaced now. ‘I was just admiring it, that’s all.’ She went to take a look into the adjoining bathroom. ‘I think my bathroom’s bigger than yours.’
‘Good.’
Paige decided it was time they were leaving. It was no use putting it off any longer, however apprehensive she felt. She took another look at herself in the mirror, and tucked a loose strand of brown-gold hair behind her ear. Then, after checking that the gold hoops she was wearing in her ears were secure, she picked up her purse and turned towards the door.
‘Shall we—?’
‘This guy—’
They both spoke together, and although Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what her sister had been going to say she knew they couldn’t leave until she did.
‘Nikolas Petronides,’ went on Sophie, after receiving a silent go-ahead, ‘he must be filthy rich, mustn’t he? I mean, according to Paris, he owns a fleet of oil tankers and you have to admit, this house is something else.’
Paige suppressed a groan. The last thing she needed was for Sophie to start getting ideas about Nikolas. And she hadn’t even seen him yet! Her sister thought he was old, but Nikolas was only about forty. And he was still a disturbingly attractive man.
‘I don’t think that’s of any interest to us,’ she declared reprovingly, as if talking about Nikolas didn’t bother her in the least. Didn’t remind her of the first time she been introduced to him by her father, or of the hot dark eyes that had seduced her on the spot…
‘Get real, Paige. I wouldn’t mind marrying someone with pots of money,’ retorted Sophie, with a grimace. ‘I wonder how he’d feel about taking a child-bride?’ She giggled, and Paige knew an almost irresistible impulse to slap her. ‘Or perhaps he has a son. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re being very silly,’ said Paige, aware that she was overreacting. But right now she couldn’t think about Nikolas without remembering the past they’d shared. It was this house, she thought. It had so many connotations—even though he’d never made love to her here…
‘What’s silly about wanting to marry a millionaire?’ exclaimed Sophie at once. ‘Or wanting to know if he has a son?’
‘He doesn’t.’
Paige was abrupt, and Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Of course,’ she blurted excitedly. ‘You’ve met him. I’d forgotten about that. Go on: tell me what he’s like.’
‘Not now.’ Paige was determined not to get into that discussion. ‘Come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.’
‘So what? Petronides isn’t here. You heard what that old witch said when we arrived. I’m not worried about keeping some Greek schoolkid waiting.’
Paige forbore to mention that the Greek schoolkid in question was a year older than she was. And, looking