The Millionaire's Virgin

‘Ah, yes, Sophie.’ His eyes moved past her to where her sister was waiting, a look of resentment on her face now. ‘She’s not at all like you, is she?’

Paige shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do.’ His mouth took on a sensual curve. ‘And before I ask your sister what she would like to drink, let me say that you have many advantages that she has not.’

‘I’m older, you mean?’

Paige refused to let him disconcert her, and Nikolas’s eyes narrowed on her tense face. ‘Older, of course. But age has its compensations. You know what I am saying,’ he added softly, and then broke off as an argument erupted across the room.

‘Who the f—? I mean, who the hell do you think you are?’ Sophie’s voice rose in outrage. ‘You can’t speak to me like that. You’re not the mistress here!’

‘Arketa! Arketa! That is enough!’

As Ariadne opened her mouth to respond, Nikolas slammed down his drink and strode across the room. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten his command that they should speak English, and his initial remonstrance was issued in the language of his youth.

Then, as if realising that Sophie couldn’t understand him, he gathered himself, and when he spoke again his manner was more controlled. ‘Ariadne,’ he snapped. ‘Do you want to tell me what is going on? What have you been saying to upset our guest?’

Ariadne looked indignant at first. And then, as if realising her guardian was not going to respond to that kind of attitude, she mumbled, ‘It was nothing, Nikolas. Really. I was merely saying that Kiria Papandreiu does not like to keep dinner waiting.’

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