Her Greek Groom

Draco stepped back from the door and carried her across the room, dropping her almost negligently on to the sofa.

Cressy lay, staring up at him, her face hectically flushed, her hair wildly dishevelled and her eyes wide and enormous.

His smile was mocking as he casually fastened his clothing. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket for his wallet.

A shower of fifty-pound notes fluttered down on her.

He said softly, ‘I think I have ruined your dress, agapi mou, so buy yourself a new one. Something that does not make you look as if you are in mourning for your virginity, hmm?’

He paused. ‘And do not ever try to reject me again.’

She wanted to reach out to him, to say his name, to ask him to stay with her, but she was too shattered by the impact of the last few minutes to be able to move or formulate coherent words.

She could only watch helplessly as he turned and walked to the door, where he paused.

‘And do not wait for me to apologise,’ he flung back at her. ‘Because I find, after all, I do not regret a thing.’ And he went out, slamming the door behind him.

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