Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable: At His Majesty's Request / The Fallen Greek Bride / Forgiven but not Forgotten?

“You say that like it’s my fault.”

“It is,” he said, whirling around to face her. His dark gaze slid down to her breasts and her own followed.

She looked back up at him. “Elaborate,” she said, teeth gritted.

“You expect that you can show up in that dress, and I can focus on other women?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” She gripped the full, tulle skirt reflexively.

“Other than the fact that you’re showing off much more of your breasts than any straight man could be expected to ignore? It also shows your legs. This was a formal wedding. Every other woman, including the ones I was speaking to, had on long gowns. You … you …”

“This dress comes to my knees. And I didn’t realize you were a fourteen-year-old boy masquerading as a prince.”

The insult rolled off her tongue, because what he was saying felt far too good. She wanted to turn it over in her mind, to savor it. To pretend that it was for her and that it mattered. To bask in being seen as pretty instead of broken.

The thought made her so annoyed with herself she wanted to scream.

He took a step toward her, and she sucked in a breath, holding her ground. He leaned in, his face close to hers, dark eyes intense. “I can assure you, I am not a boy.”

She swallowed, fought the urge to put her hand on his cheek and see if the faint, dark shadow there was rough yet. “I believe it.”

“Then do not test me.” His eyes held hers, her heart threatening to beat clean through her chest. She pulled away, her breathing shallow.

Stavros turned away from her. She stood in the middle of his office as he paced, each movement languid and deadly. Her heart was pounding, her body shaking. She’d known that he couldn’t possibly be so easy, so relaxed. Beneath that charm lurked the soul of a predator. The deadliest sort, because he knew how to portray an air of complete and utter harmlessness.

Stavros Drakos was anything but harmless. How had she not seen it? How had she assumed he was all flirtation and ease?

And had he … had he really just confessed to finding her cleavage distracting? She looked down again and felt a small flush of pride creep into her cheeks. It had been a long time since she’d been able to feel anything overly positive in connection with her body.

It was nice to have a man look at her and simply see a woman.

It might be a facade, a trick, but it didn’t really matter. Stavros would never have to get closer. Would never have to know the truth, or deal with the fallout of it.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy it. Just for a moment.

“I wasn’t intending to,” she said.

He stopped moving. “You cannot be ignorant of how you look. You outshone the bride.”

She couldn’t believe that. Not seriously. Princess Evangelina was a great beauty. Olive skin, long dark hair and a slender figure. In her wedding gown, she was unsurpassable. Plus, the princess was only twenty-one. She didn’t have the years Jessica had on her body. Didn’t have the scars.

“I doubt that,” she said.

“My eyes were on you most of the time.”

Heat rushed up her neck and into her face, then spread down over her breasts. “We should not be having this conversation.”

“We should. Because if you’re going to be present at all of my meetings with potential fiancées, you need to dress more suitably.”

“I will dress how I please, Prince Stavros,” she said, feeling her hackles rise. She really didn’t do backed into a corner well, and, at the moment, she felt backed into a corner.

Stavros felt his pulse pounding in his neck, all of his blood rushing south of his belt. He’d been fighting to urge to go and pull Jessica into his arms and kiss her lips, kiss the swells of her breasts where they rose up over that gown. That ridiculous gown that made her look like every man’s midnight fantasy.

He’d tried to focus on the women, the bridal candidates. But they’d seemed … insipid. Young. They hadn’t interested him. They certainly hadn’t stirred his body. Not in the way Jessica did. And that was not part of tonight’s plan.

But when she’d walked into the ballroom tonight, it was as though a switch had flipped inside of him.

Lust had ignited in him like fire, the need to see her curves, those gorgeous curves, without a dress covering them. It made him want to press her against the wall and push all that frilly netting aside. To make her scream with the kind of desire that seemed to be actively trying to eat him alive every time she was around.

He was better than this. He mastered his desires. He directed them where he wanted, when he wanted to express them.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are very stubborn?” he growled.

“It’s probably been said to me as many times as it’s been said to you. Actually, I imagine I’ve heard it more, since people probably don’t stand up to you very often.”

That much was true. But she stood up to him, and she did it without compunction. Yes, she had a reputation for being this bullheaded, but he hadn’t expected she would truly treat him in the same way she did every other client.

His expectation had been wrong.

“Fair enough then,” he said. “But I do expect you to do as I ask.”

“Then I expect you might find yourself disappointed.”

“You are supposed to be working for me,” he said, not sure where this urge to push her was coming from. But that was what he was doing. Pushing her. Daring her.

“If that’s how you feel, you can hunt for your own wife. But we both know you don’t want that.”

“I’m not sure I want this.” The closest he’d ever come to voicing the truth to anyone.

“But you will.” She was so certain. And she was right. Emotion had no place in this. It had no place in him.

He crossed his arms. “You have other candidates?”

“You still haven’t met Victoria. And there are others.”

She shifted and so did her cleavage. A flame licked at his body, igniting desire. Arousal.

“We can discuss it further later. Shall we go back to the wedding?”

“Yes.”

She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “And will you be civilized?”

A loaded question, and one he was certain applied to more than just tonight. An answer he wasn’t certain of. “I suppose you’ll have to take your chances. Are you willing to do that?”

He extended his arm and she didn’t move for a beat. Then she took a step to him and looped her arm through his. “You don’t worry me too much, Stavros.”

He felt a kick in his gut, a purely masculine part of himself taking her words as a challenge. He stopped, turning to face her. Her green eyes widened, lips parting.