Pretending with the Greek Billionaire(21)

“Most women are a little more excited at the prospect of jewelry.”

Constance crossed her arms, fully aware she was pouting and not caring at all. “It seems wrong. It’s not like a little pair of earrings or something.”

“You’d prefer earrings?”

She groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

His lips twitched and her eyes narrowed. He was having entirely too much fun at her expense.

“Then what did you mean?” he asked.

“A diamond ring is expensive, even a small one. It’s a waste of money and completely unnecessary.”

“First of all, it’s very necessary. People will expect you to be flashing some serious bling. And secondly, don’t worry about the money. I’ve got plenty of it.”

“You don’t say,” she said, drily.

“Sell the damn thing when we’re done and give the money to some charity if it’ll make you feel better, but you’re getting a ring.”

She mulled that over for a second. It wasn’t a bad idea and did actually ease her mind about the whole thing. If he was going to insist on spending the money, she might as well put it to good use.

“All right then. I will.”

He shook his head, but let the matter drop. And thankfully, he didn’t discuss the whole kissing episode either. She supposed she had a great deal more of that to look forward to. Although dread was probably a better word, and she’d keep telling herself that. Maybe she’d believe it. Either way, she needed to make sure she kept a handle on things. She had her girls to think about. They were all that mattered and she needed to make sure that nothing that was about to happen would negatively affect them in any way. They needed to come first, no matter what.

Luca eased out onto the road. Once he’d navigated through the narrowest of the streets, he held out a hand. She glanced at it, then him, completely confused.

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Take my hand, Stanzia.”

“Stop calling me that. My name is Constance.”

“Why do you dislike me calling you Stanzia so much?”

She didn’t. That was the problem. She’d never had a nickname before. She’d always been Constance, even when she was little. Beyond the novelty of it, having the soft sounds of his pet name for her rolling off his tongue made things ache inside that she didn’t want to examine too closely. She could imagine him whispering that name to her in the dark all too well. It was melodic and exotic and unique, and she was none of those things. But when he used that name, she felt like she was, and with him maybe she could be. But then what? Then she’d go back to her real life and Stanzia would be gone. She’d be Constance again. Better to remain Constance. Keep that layer of distance between them that the pet name shattered.

When she didn’t answer, he just shook his head and stuck his hand out again. “Take my hand.”

She frowned. The thought of holding his hand sent a warm ball of fuzzies spreading through her. Her fingers itched to curl around his; all the more reason to resist.

“What for?”

He briefly glanced at her, then back out the windshield. “Because you jump ten feet every time I get anywhere near you. We need to get used to each other and practice makes perfect, as they say.”

She still looked at his offered hand like it was a bomb ready to go off. It might not be in the literal sense, but voluntarily letting him touch her in any way was just another sexual accident waiting to happen.

“Stanzia. Do you want this little charade to work or not? Take my hand.”

She sighed, knowing full well she was being ridiculous. Holding hands. It was a small enough thing to do.

“Fine,” she said, slipping her hand into his. She couldn’t stop the little shiver of pleasure that skated up her spine as his warm skin slid across hers.

He laced their fingers together and turned his attention back to the road, although his thumb lazily caressed the back of her hand. It was such a sweet gesture, intimate even. She resisted the urge to squirm and focused her attention on the gorgeous island scenery flowing past her window. After a few minutes she began to relax, the rhythmic stroking of his thumb becoming almost soothing, or at least it would have been had the thumb doing the stroking belonged to anyone other than Luca.

“So,” he said, startling her out of her momentary comfort zone. “How long have you lived on the island?”

Her gut reaction was to tell him to mind his own business, but she supposed they did need to get to know each other a little. “About five years.”

“What brought you out here?”

“My father worked at the embassy in Athens. I came out with him from New York and fell in love with it. Mykonos was always my favorite. I always meant to go back home, but then I started helping out with the Family Aid groups and decided to make things permanent.”