The Ruthless Greek's Virgin Princess. Trish Morey

nowhere that if it felt this good to dance with this man when he hated you and you hated him, how much better must it feel if they actually loved each other?

      She jerked her head away from his shoulder, snapping her eyes open and her thoughts back from the brink. She had no right to ask such questions. No right to wonder anything except when this interminable ordeal of being in Yannis’s arms would be over. What she needed was a distraction from her thoughts, and conversation was the only tool she had to hand.

      ‘I take it you’ve never married.’

      She felt his intake of breath rather than heard it, felt it in the brief falter in his step and the slight jerk of his head above hers. ‘Not yet.’

      ‘No need to sound defensive,’ she responded with a nerve she didn’t know she possessed. ‘I’m sure there’s hope for you yet.’ Couples began drifting onto the dance floor around them, men and women with smiling faces in dusted-off suits and brightly coloured Sunday-best dresses. ‘So why is it proving so difficult?’ she persisted. ‘What is it you’re looking for in the woman of your dreams that’s proving so elusive?’

      ‘I don’t see a ring on your finger.’

      ‘I’ve been busy.’

      ‘And I haven’t?’

      ‘Touché. Rafe told me you were driven to succeed. Tell me, when will you have amassed enough millions that you can settle back and relax?’

      She felt his fingers tense around hers.

      ‘I thought you had a headache.’

      ‘It didn’t get me out of dancing. Why should it preclude me from conversation?’

      He spun her around a couple who cut across their path, the sudden motion leaving her momentarily breathless and giddy, her fingers biting into him for support. ‘Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t,’ she managed once they’d settled into a steadier rhythm again and thinking that if she kept talking, he might not notice how desperately she’d just grabbed for him. ‘I know people have always liked to label you and Rafe as playboys, but of the two of you, somehow I always picked you for a family man. I would have expected you to have been married long before now.’

      ‘Maybe I should have been!’ His voice was gruff as his feet ground to a sudden halt. He looked around at the couples filling the dance floor, as if assessing whether they’d done enough to satisfy their duty, before releasing her suddenly as if deciding they had. ‘Now you can go.’