Bought: The Greek's Bride
Книга "Bought: The Greek's Bride", автором которой является Люси Монро, представляет собой захватывающую работу в жанре Современная зарубежная литература. В этом произведении автор рассказывает увлекательную историю, которая не оставит равнодушными читателей.
Автор мастерски воссоздает атмосферу напряженности и интриги, погружая читателя в мир загадок и тайн, который скрывается за хрупкой поверхностью обыденности. С прекрасным чувством языка и виртуозностью сюжетного развития, Люси Монро позволяет читателю погрузиться в сложные эмоциональные переживания героев и проникнуться их судьбами. Монро настолько живо и точно передает неповторимые нюансы человеческой психологии, что каждая страница книги становится путешествием в глубины человеческой души.
"Bought: The Greek's Bride" - это не только захватывающая история, но и искусство, проникнутое глубокими мыслями и философскими размышлениями. Это произведение призвано вызвать у читателя эмоциональные отклики, задуматься о важных жизненных вопросах и открыть новые горизонты восприятия мира.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
HIS BIG, WARM HAND against the small of her back, Ellie allowed Sandor to guide her into the exclusive Boston restaurant. It felt good to walk into the air-conditioning. Boston in the summer was muggy and hot, but the instant cold sent shivers chasing along her arms and made her nipples bead behind the black silk bodice of her dress.
Rather than discomfort, her body reacted with a sensual pleasure that was her constant companion in this manâs company.
It had marked their first meeting and had not abated since, leaving her with a need to explore a side to her character that she usually ignored. Her feminine sexuality. She found herself dressing more sexily around him than she ever had in the past and reveling in the small, possessive touches he peppered their dates with.
Tonight, sheâd worn a dress by Armani that she loved because it was both elegant and sexy. Its sleeveless design and scooped neck left her arms, a good portion of her chest and her back exposed, but the hem swirled modestly below her knees. The black silk clung to her understated curves and the thin fabric offered no real barrier between his hand and the sensitive skin of her back. And that single point of contact was enough to send her nerve endings rioting.
She had to concentrate on maintaining a bland façade for him and the other restaurant patrons, but she couldnât help wishing they were someplace private. Someplace she might actually get the nerve up to ask why heâd never pressed for deeper intimacy when his good-night kisses were powered by a wealth of barely leashed passion. Passion sheâd decided she wanted to explore.
She recognized several faces as the maître dâ led them to their table and wished she didnât. She would like to go out, just once, to a restaurant that was not one of the accepted watering holes for their kind. But Sandor Christofides demanded the best. In everything.
Sometimes, it made her wonder what he was doing with her.
She had been born to the world he had worked so hard to enter, but as far as she could see, that was all she had to offer him. At five foot nine, with small curves, average features, and rather boring dark blond hair, she was not particularly beautiful; she did little to cultivate the contacts others would kill to obtain; she abhorred the standards set by money and frequently refused to uphold them. Her job as an employment counselor for the state was as unglamorous as it got. Her clients wouldnât make it on to the âWhoâs Whoâ list of anything, for that matterâ¦neither would she. Not anymore.
Her dad considered her career a complete waste of her Ivy League education, but she didnât care. She considered his overwhelming preoccupation with his business a waste, too. Not that she dismissed his company as unimportant, but she hated the fact that it always had and always would come before her, anyone or anything else.
Interrupting Ellieâs thoughts, the maître dâ stopped beside the same table they always had when Sandor brought her here. Its placement was an indication of Sandorâs importance, something her father would take for granted, but she didnât think Sandor did. His dark brown eyes would glow with satisfaction for a brief moment at small things like this, as if they really mattered to him.
Which was another reason they werenât exactly well suited. Stuff like that just did not impress her. Maybe she was jaded by growing up around it, but she got a lot bigger thrill out of one of her clients getting a job, or a certification necessary to do so, or additional education.
She knew why she said yes to every one of Sandorâs invitations. Because she was quite literally enthralled with the man. But she didnât understand why he kept extending them. Especially if he didnât want to sleep with her. He just didnât seem like the celibate type, but that might be her own libido talking.
Sandor seated her though typically the maître dâ would have done so. She took it as a mark of his Greeknessâ¦or his possessiveness. She wasnât sure which, but for as little as she understood what Sandor saw in her, she knew she would not be the one to end their relationship. Because the little actions like him seating her personally made her feel special.
They also exhibited a side to his nature she found enticing. He didnât bow to the dictates of the world he inhabited, but insisted it take him on his terms. And when she was with him, she felt truly alive for the first time in her twenty-four years.
She couldnât help watching with a hungry intensity she tried to hide as he folded his six-foot-four frame into the chair across from hers. His dark, wavy hair, cut just a little long framed chiseled features she could stare at all night. His superbly muscled frame filled out his dinner jacket in a way few businessmen did.
