‘I’m going to bed—’
‘I’m trying to look out for you, Rosie. You have got rights too,’ Maurice told her with stark impatience. ‘Your dad would turn in his grave if he knew what Voulos was doing!’
‘Maurice, Constantine Voulos has not one thing that I want.’
But was it true that Constantine was wealthier than her father had ever been? Anton certainly hadn’t travelled around in a chauffeur-driven limo or hauled bodyguards in his wake. She shrugged. Either way, what did it matter to her? And even if Constantine was filthy rich it didn’t mean he couldn’t also be disgustingly greedy.
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