He’d left her sleeping since it was still two hours before she needed to start work, but he’d woken and checked email only to become annoyed at his brother questioning why he wasn’t in Athens for a meeting. His first instinct had been to roll onto Natalie and forget about everything, but he was already making more demands of her than he had with any other woman, and that disturbed him. He’d hit the shower as much to prove his ability to resist her as anything else.

She didn’t have the power to make him happy or unhappy, he kept telling himself, oddly unable to quit turning that remark over in his mind.

Now she was dressed and putting on her shoes, and his need to possess her climbed several notches.

“Being a master of disguise, I’ll pretend I’ve gone for an early-morning walk to pick up some pastries,” she explained. “Then it won’t seem weird that I’m coming to work from up the block.”

Impatience pushed out of him in an annoyed sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

Surprised hurt flashed across her face before she schooled her expression. “It’s only one more night.”

A spike of ice nailed him in the chest. “What do you mean?”

“I leave for Lyon tomorrow. I thought I’d pack over lunch so I can come here right after work. I could check out properly and stay here my last night if you like, but that seems kind of—”

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I’m catching the train. I did the same thing coming here, arrived on Saturday so I could get settled and see a few sights before starting work Monday.”

“There’s nothing to see in Lyon.”

“Only two thousand years of history.” She held his gaze, an unvoiced question in her quirked brows. Are you asking me to stay?

She didn’t ask it and bent to tie her shoe instead, then stood to shoulder her bag. “I won’t bother checking out. I’ll just come over for—”

“What time are you off?”

“Might be as late as six.”

“Do you ski?”

“That’s random,” she remarked. “I can, but not very well. Why?”

“We can go to Switzerland for the weekend,” he decided.

“Switzerland? That’s crazy!”

“You’re thinking like a colonial. It’s not that far. I’ll take you to Lyon myself. On Sunday.”

“But—”

She looked so fresh and innocent, face clean of makeup. For a minute he wondered what the hell he was doing with her. As cynical as she’d sounded about marriage last night, the way she was hiding their relationship told him how uncomfortable she was with what they were doing.

“You don’t want to?” he demanded gruffly, bracing himself.

“No, I just didn’t realize you wanted to...” She shrugged. “I thought you’d have somewhere to be by now.”

According to his brother, yes, but she wasn’t talking about work or any sort of external commitment. She was inferring she thought he’d be tired of her. He should be, and it made him uneasy that he wasn’t.

On the other hand, a tension he hadn’t quite acknowledged eased in him as he made plans to continue seeing her. He was already looking forward to being open about their relationship in Switzerland. This cloak-and-dagger lurking in shadows was not his style at all.

Wait. Relationship? Arrangement, he mentally corrected.

She canted her head. “You’re scowling. Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No. I do what I want,” he assured her. “And I want to take you to Switzerland.”

“Do you?” she murmured, eyes dancing with laughter at him.

He scowled. “If you don’t want to go, say so.” And he’d commence with convincing her.

“I’ll go. I just didn’t expect this. Text me where to meet you when you’ve made the arrangements.” She came across to lean into him, mouth lifted to press against his.

He took over the kiss. It had to last him all day, so he made it thorough.

* * *

“You can’t buy me skis,” Natalie protested.

“Why not?” he looked genuinely perplexed, even glanced down at his credit card as though he was checking to make sure it hadn’t been declined.

“Because...” It was obvious, wasn’t it? If he wanted to pay for a hotel room so they could sleep together, fine. And since he said his brother owned the helicopter that had flown them here, she supposed it was between the two of them to figure out how to pay for the fuel, but buying her ski equipment was weird. “What will I do with them after? I can’t take them home.”

“Of course you can. You ship to Canada, don’t you?” he asked the clerk.

“Of course,” the clerk assured her.

And the cost for that? Natalie drew in a slow breath. “I don’t need skis at home, Demitri. I’ll just rent a pair for the weekend.”

“The line is too long.”

“I don’t mind standing in it. You do your thing and I’ll do mine. We’ll find each other on the slopes once I’m outfitted.”

“This is my thing,” he said with impatience.

“Getting your way is your thing?” she surmised.

“Exactly. Ignore her and outfit us both,” he ordered the clerk.

“Demitri—”

“Come here. I want to show you something.” He drew her over to the window, where snowflakes fell in glimmering sprinkles along the runs lit by high-powered lights. Against the indigo sky, the moonlight glinted off veins of ice in the jagged mountaintop. “Do you see that?” He pointed upward, to the ceiling.

“What?”

As she lifted her face, he kissed the daylights out of her. When he finally drew back, she blinked in shock, kind of embarrassed by their display, but also moved by the tender look in his eyes and the sweetness of his caress as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I just kissed you in public,” he said. “We’re here to be together.”

“You could stand in line for rentals with me,” she suggested with a cheeky grin.

“I do enjoy your sense of humor, Natalie.” He reached past her and snagged a pair of lavender ski pants, the kind that clung unforgivably. “Try these on.”

She glanced at the price, winced and said, “Okay, but I’m buying them.”

“Again, completely hysterical. I invited you here. This is my treat.”

Just going along with his demands didn’t feel right, but what woman ever said no to Demitri? Before she knew it, she was decked out from head to toe, including goggles and sunglasses.

“It’s night,” she protested when he placed the shades on her nose.

“But the slopes will be bright tomorrow, even if it’s overcast.”

She gave up arguing with him, and they spent a couple hours rediscovering their ski legs, left their equipment in a locker he rented and picked their way back through the pubs in the village to their hotel, eating fondue and drinking toddies while sampling live music. When they fell into bed, they were almost too tired to make love.

Almost, but not quite.

She fell asleep with her nose tucked into the damp warmth in the middle of his chest.

* * *

“You don’t have to stick to the baby slopes for me,” Natalie said as they leaped off the chair and snowplowed to a viewpoint. Far below, nestled in the valley, the village sat with comfortable old-world ease. Smoke puffed from small brick chimneys and snow-blanketed roofs poked up against sharp white peaks and brilliant blue sky. It looked like something off a Christmas card. “Go off and do some jumps or something. I’ll be okay.”

“The past two runs have been midlevel. I think you’re ready to try something more challenging.”

“No, they haven’t,” she denied, swinging her attention to him, then catching her breath at how urbane and good-looking he was.

His black bib-style ski pants over a white form-fitting insulated shirt, coupled with his sunglasses and natural air of command made him look like one of those intensely attractive villains from a British secret-agent film.

“I, um, don’t ski well enough for midlevel.” How had she even wound up here? The family hill she had skied during school trips at home had been a financial stretch. This place was practically coated in genuine silver, every piece of equipment sporting a designer label and mostly being used by licensed representatives, as far as she could tell.

“What are you talking about? You’re cautious, but your skills are strong. I’m impressed.”

He gave a passing nod of greeting to—good grief, was that a royal? Demitri had invited a gold-medalist and his wife to join them for lunch when they had bumped into them at the chalet, and a Swedish model had fawned over him in a gondola car. This mountain was a mecca for Europe’s elite.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured as an entourage in black followed the athletic frame of the prince down the slope. “I would have introduced you, but protocol says he takes the lead on that, and he’s obviously preferring to be left alone right now. Ready?”


Tags: Dani Collins Billionaire Romance