Purchased for Passion: Shackled by Diamonds / A Mistress for the Taking / His Bought Mistress. Julia JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
All right—she would eat a light supper, a very light supper, and then throw Leo Makarios out. It was perfectly obvious what he’d turned up here for—
Or was it?
Had she got it completely wrong?
He had started to speak again.
‘Tell me,’ he said, as he helped himself to food, ‘have you known the other three models long?’
Anna paused in the middle of lifting her fork to start eating. Chicken and salad without dressing wouldn’t be a crime—and she would, of course, ignore the rolls.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Her voice sounded surprised at his question.
He repeated it, shaking out a white damask napkin on his lap and lifting his plate.
She took a mouthful of chicken, which melted in her mouth. ‘I’ve known Jenny for several years, but this is the first time I’ve worked with Kate and Vanessa.’
‘Which one is the redhead?’ Leo Makarios asked.
‘That would be Vanessa,’ Anna replied with exaggerated politeness. ‘The one with the big boobs, in case you need another way of identifying her.’ Her voice was acid.
Dark eyes flicked over her.
‘You really do need to lose that attitude,’ Leo Makarios murmured.
‘So do you,’ she bit back. ‘Models do have names, as well as bodies.’
She forked up a large amount of salad with unnecessary vigour.
‘You take offence where none is intended—I merely had not yet managed to distinguish the four of you by name, only hair colour,’ he replied coolly. The eyes rested on her momentarily. She thought she saw irritation in them.
Was that supposed to be a reprimand? Anna wondered. If so, no sale.
She gave an indifferent shrug. ‘Why do you ask about Vanessa?’ she prompted. She was both relieved that he was not here for the reason she had assumed and warily curious as to why he was asking about his cousin’s girlfriend. Maybe, she thought suddenly, Leo Makarios was in poaching mode. Not, however, that Vanessa had eyes for anyone other than this guy’s cousin. Talk about stars in her eyes…the girl had it bad. Anna only hoped she wouldn’t get hurt—but she wasn’t taking bets on it.
He took a mouthful of wine.
‘If you do not know her well, my enquiry will mean little,’ he answered.
‘Yes, well, what little I do know of her is that she’s a nice girl.’ Anna replied all the same—pointedly. ‘Nice, if dumb,’ she added.
Leo Makarios’s eyebrows pulled together, making him look forbidding somehow.
‘Dumb?’ There was a bite in his voice she’d have been deaf not to hear.
‘Dumb enough to fall for your cousin, I mean,’ she elucidated.
The forbidding look suddenly became even more intense.
Anna gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘Oh, come on—your fancy cousin hardly looks like a down-on-one-knee kind of guy! Vanessa’s going to get burned—big-time. It’s totally obvious.’
‘My cousin is very generous to his mistresses,’ Leo Makarios informed her. There was hauteur in his face now, and a repressive note in his voice.
A choking sound escaped Anna.
‘Mistresses? Last time I looked, crinolines were definitely out of fashion!’
He frowned again.
‘I do not understand your reference.’
‘It means mistresses went out with Queen Victoria. Mistresses—kept women—rich protectors, you know.’
A cynical curve indented his mouth.
‘You think women no longer like to take rich men as their lovers, and thereby live in a style that they could not afford for themselves?’
Her eyes hardened. He was right, damn it—her exposure to the realities of life in the fashion world had taught her that a long time ago.
‘If they do, then ‘mistress’ is not the term I’d use for them,’ she riposted.
‘What would you use then?’
‘One unfit for mixed company.’ She gave her acid-sweet smile again. ‘And, by the way, no—I do not count Vanessa as one of them!’
‘You are so sure of that?’ The cynical note was back in his voice.