Playboys: The Greek Tycoon's Disobedient Bride / The Ruthless Magnate's Virgin Mistress / The Spanish Billionaire's Pregnant Wife

‘You’ve been with someone else …’ Ophelia framed, sick and empty with shock as she made that obvious deduction.

Lysander straightened with a frown. ‘What did you say?’

Ophelia wrenched down her top with shaking hands and scrambled clumsily off the bed. Both responses were instinctive. Her skin felt cold and clammy. How could she have been so stupid? She spread a stricken glance round the room, which she had earlier deemed an adult playroom for a man who preferred sexual variety to steady relationships. Well, she could not say that she had not been warned.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lean, strong face taut, Lysander was studying her with concerned bronze eyes.

Ophelia folded her arms because she was afraid he would see that she was shaking. Her legs were all woolly and wobbly. She felt utterly betrayed and foolish. ‘That’s why you stayed in Athens last night. You were with another woman.’

Lysander had fallen still. He had no idea what had sparked off the accusation and he had no intention of responding to it. He had a policy of never explaining or denying such allegations and it had served him well since the teen years. He didn’t do jealous scenes. He didn’t soothe tantrums. He didn’t go there at all.

‘Don’t you dare stand there looking at me like I’ve lost my wits!’ Ophelia slung at him, her temper rising as her nervous tension ran off the scale.

‘What do you expect?’ Lysander enquired with abrasive cool. ‘One minute we’re making love and the next you call a halt without warning and start trying to stage an argument.’

Her indignation was increasing in direct proportion to his cold-blooded lack of concern. ‘You’ve got about as much feeling inside you as the rocks on the beach!’

‘But you have more than enough for both of us, glikia mou,’ Lysander countered, smooth as silk in his satire.

That retaliation struck Ophelia like a sobering slap. Hecould not have made it clearer that he didn’t care how she felt. How could she have slept with a guy willing to treat her like this? A hurricane of stormy emotion clawed at her. On some level she suspected that if she paused for thought and actually faced what she was feeling it might destroy her. She had ignored her misgivings, turned her back on what she knew to be right and succumbed to the temptation he offered. So if she couldn’t resist Lysander, did that make her one bit better than the women who couldn’t resist him or his wealth?

‘Your jacket smells of a woman’s perfume,’ Ophelia told him resolutely. She was giving him one more chance to explain himself without knowing when she had made the decision to give him an extra opportunity, which he most certainly did not deserve.

Handsome head at an imperious angle, dark, deep-set gaze stony, Lysander lifted and dropped a shoulder in a fluid shrug that just roared bone-deep stubborn insolence. ‘I don’t do scenes like this.’

All fired up and desperate to hear him assure her that her suspicions were wildly off beam, Ophelia could not believe that that was all he was prepared to offer her in the way of explanation. ‘You don’t do—?’

‘I don’t accept being shouted at either,’ Lysander delivered icily.

‘If you imagine that that was a shout, I wouldn’t like to think how you would react to the genuine article.’ Flushed and rigid, Ophelia rested defiant blue eyes on him and tilted her chin. She would have no peace of mind until she knew the worst and had never ducked bad news in her life. ‘Were you with someone else last night? I have the right to know.’

Lysander dealt her a smouldering appraisal. ‘You have the right to nothing.’

Her slender hands snapped into tight fists by her side. ‘Oh, yes, I do. We’re married. If you’d kept it platonic and everything was fake, then I wouldn’t have the right to question you like this. But you wouldn’t settle for that arrangement,’ she reminded him fiercely. ‘So, either this is a marriage or it isn’t. You can’t have it both ways.’

‘No comment.’

It was the last straw for Ophelia. She lifted the water carafe by the bed and chucked it at him. She didn’t think about doing it, she simply closed her hand round the glass bottle and slung it with all her might. He ducked, which infuriated her, and the glass smashed against the wall, sending pieces of glass and drops of water flying in all directions.

‘I need a shower,’ Lysander imparted with hauteur. ‘Hopefully you’ll have calmed down by the time I reappear, yineka mou.’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Ophelia advised shakily.

In the smouldering silence, Lysander removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. He was furious with her. How dared she start ranting and raving and throwing things at him? He couldn’t believe it, but he had married a bunny-boiler! He would have dumped her if he weren’t married to her. Although he wouldn’t have dumped her until she had apologised. No, he thought with seething fury, not until he had her in his bed begging for release or on her knees pleading for forgiveness.

‘These rooms say all there is to know about your attitude to women,’ Ophelia condemned in a driven rush of pent-up feeling. ‘You just use us with contempt.’

Lysander swung round. Metallic eyes landed on her like lightning rods. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘The designer clothes in multi-sizes in the wardrobes. Payment for services received?’ she questioned in a voice thatwas very close to breaking, stark strain etched in her fragile bone structure. ‘You don’t treat women like equals. You keep them at a distance. You prefer to buy sex or should I call it … rewarding your lovers with very expensive presents?’

Lysander was incensed by that indictment of his character. ‘The rich are expected to be generous. I like my guests to enjoy themselves. I won’t apologise for that.’

Ophelia compressed her lips. ‘I—’

‘Be careful how you refer to my sexual partners when you’re one of them and when you’ve cost me much more than any other woman in the short time I’ve known you,’ Lysander drawled in sardonic continuance.