Her Deal With The Greek Devil (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rich, Ruthless & Greek, Book 2) - Caitl Caitlin Crews (well read books txt) 📖

likely to be a sudden stampede of unicorns along her cobbled street than there was for him to catch a terrible case of feelings, like a bad flu. And it was even less likely that if he did, he would come here to share them with her.

After all, their relationship had been a lie when she was sixteen and more recently nothing but debts and dares. A hetaira indeed.

Because she’d looked that word up once she’d come home, thinking he’d used an endearment. She should have known better.

“Then there’s no reason for you to be here, is there?” she asked coolly, glaring down at him. “After all, ours was a transactional relationship at best.”

“I’m not here to talk about transactions!” he thundered at her.

Even more loudly.

She responded by going arctic. “My mistake. Are you here to talk? Do you do talking, Constantine? Is that part of your revenge fantasy?”

His eyes blazed. And she had the strangest notion he was about to explode. Right out in the open.

Molly wanted to see that more than she wanted her next breath. And equally wanted to protect him from it. She despaired of herself and her endlessly stupid heart.

“Do you truly wish to shout at each other?” he asked her, biting off each word as his gaze incinerated the world around him. “In public?”

And she had to think about it.

Because she was certain no good could come of letting that man into her house. No good could come of letting herself get close to him again. Physically, that was.

Does anyone get close to Constantine Skalas? the bitter voice inside her asked.

Still, the last thing she needed was to have someone make a video of this confrontation and splash it over the internet, which she knew they would. Because who needed the paparazzi when everyone had a mobile in their hand? She scanned the windows opposite her and didn’t see any telltale twitching curtains, but that didn’t mean anything.

Eyes were everywhere. That had been the first lesson Constantine had taught her.

She turned on her heel and slammed her way back into her house, running down the stairs to the front door and then waiting there a moment, desperately trying to get her breath under control.

But she gave it up as futile and tossed the door open.

Constantine brushed his way inside, then stood there, glowering at her in her own hallway as she slammed the front door shut, locking them in.

Together. And alone.

Not that it mattered if they were alone or with ten thousand people, surely. Not anymore.

Her heart, predictably, beat too hard anyway.

“There’s no reason for you to be here,” she told him, her voice hot and potentially unhinged, but she couldn’t worry about that. “The note you left me in Paris did all the talking you could ever need to do. My debt was paid. Is that how a hetaira’s term was usually ended? I’m not conversant on the finer points of relinquishing a courtesan.”

“A hetaira is not any old run-of-the-mill courtesan, Molly,” he began, frowning at her.

“Did you really come here to debate the finer points of an ancient Greek insult you were using as an endearment?” She actually laughed, and not in a way that indicated she found anything funny. “Because I would rethink that approach, if I were you.”

“You don’t understand.” He moved closer, but stopped, clearly reading the scowl on her face. Was she happy about that or disappointed? “Molly, you must know I didn’t leave you because you were some kind of courtesan and I was finished. I left you for your own good.”

It had to be said that she had not seen that one coming.

But she didn’t like it any better for being unexpected.

“How noble.” Her voice was scathing. “Next time, leave a tip.”

His face darkened, and she hated the part of her that couldn’t simply hate him the way she should. That wanted to make him feel better, even now.

“Everything I told you that night was the truth,” he said, his voice as intense as it was rough. “And it is mine to regret that it took me so long to understand that in all this time, what I thought was vengeance was never that at all. Never. It would have been far easier for me if it was. My curse all along was that I never hated you or your mother the way I thought I should have.”

That mapped a little too closely to what she’d been thinking, and she didn’t trust the way her heart kicked at the idea of a connection between them.

She scowled to cover it. “You have a very funny way of showing it, then. And yes, I’m aware you made some restitution, but that’s just money, Constantine. God knows you have far too much of that.”

It occurred to her then, as he glared down at her with too much of that ferocious intensity that shouldn’t have stirred her at all, that she was trapped with her back to her own front door. She couldn’t have that.

Molly pushed her way past him and didn’t look back as she marched back up her stairs. Then into her great room, where she swept up her wine along with the bottle. And then stood there, glaring balefully, as Constantine followed.

Because it just wasn’t fair. He had neglected to shave today and his jaw looked deliciously rough. His hair was its usual mess. He was wearing nothing interesting at all, a T-shirt and jeans, except it was instantly clear that neither item was the sort of thing a regular person could buy in a store. Just like he was no regular person.

He still looked like a statue that begged to be cast in marble. And now, despite everything, all she could think about was that she knew how he tasted. Every part of him. Looking at him again now, all she could think about was how he had moved inside her, changing everything.

Changing her.

And then he’d left her all the same. The way he’d warned her