The Real Romero(38)

                ‘Correct.’

                ‘In other words, you lied to me.’

                ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a lie...’ Naturally he had expected surprise, incredulity even, but at the end of the day the ski instructor had been swapped for a billionaire. He had taken it as a given that his new status would do its usual job and bring a smile of servile appreciation to her lips. None of it. She was scowling at him, eyes glinting with anger.

                ‘Well, I would.’ Milly was struggling to contain her anger. How dared he? How dared he play her for a complete fool? But then, she was just Little Miss Sunshine, wasn’t she? Some comic relief for a man marooned in a ski lodge with her!

                ‘You made false assumptions,’ Lucas told her with barely concealed impatience. ‘I chose not to set you straight.’

                ‘In your world, that might be acceptable behaviour. In my world, that’s called lying!’ She sprang to her feet and stormed over to the window, stared out for a little while and then stormed back towards him, hands on her hips. ‘I leave London to escape a creep who lied to me and what do I land up sharing space with? Another creep who lies to me!’

                ‘That’s the last time you’re going to insult me by bracketing me with your loser ex!’

                ‘Why? You seem to have a fair few things in common! Why didn’t you just tell me who you were?’

                Because I was enjoying the novelty of being with someone refreshingly honest... Because in a world where wariness and suspicion are bywords, it was a holiday not having to guard every syllable, watch every turn of phrase, accept instant adulation without being able really to distinguish what was genuine and what was promoted by a healthy knowledge of how much I was worth...

                ‘When you’re as rich as I am, it pays to be careful.’

                ‘In other words, I could have been just another cheap, tacky gold-digger after your money!’

                ‘If you want to put it like that...’

                His dark eyes were cool, assessing, unflinching. She could have hit him. How could he just sit there and admit to lying to her without even batting an eyelid? As though it was just perfectly acceptable?

                Although...

                The man was a billionaire. He owned a million companies. He had a hand in pretty much every pie and he had come from money. There were no limits to his wealth, his power, his influence, it would seem. She could reluctantly understand that suspicion would be his constant companion.

                That thought instantly deflated her and she had to summon up some of the old anger she had felt at the thought that he had cheerfully lied to her.

                ‘I feel sorry for you,’ she told him scornfully and he stiffened.

                ‘Do I really want to hear you explain that remark?’ No one, but no one, had ever felt sorry for him or, if anyone had, they had been at pains to conceal it. Money engendered quite the opposite response. Money combined with good looks—which was something about himself he accepted without any vanity whatsoever—was even more persuasive a tool in affording him the sort of slavish responses he got from other people. Particularly from women.

                He looked at her carefully. She was as volatile and as unpredictable as a volcano on the point of eruption. It should have been a turn off and it was mildly surprising that it wasn’t.

                ‘How can you trust that anyone likes you for you?’