Chapter Eighteen

Sylvia had read about Stavrakis resorts. They were swanky hotels for rich people, the kind of glamorous places she read about in celebrity gossip magazines. Utterly out of reach of a regular person like her.

She glanced around the cottage. Cozy as it was, on a private beach with devoted housekeeper, she still wouldn’t be surprised if it cost ten thousand dollars a night.

And they would be sharing this intimate space alone. She looked back at Xavier, and the cottage suddenly seemed a little smaller.

“There’s no television,” he said. “But I don’t think you’ll miss it.”

She licked her lips. “Why not? What will we be doing?”

“A selection of new books and magazines has been provided for you. The housekeeper will prepare delicious meals and clean and do anything else you need. You’ll have nothing to do but sit on the beach and work on your tan. If you get bored, you can take a tour around the house. That's all I can offer. I hope you love to read.”

She stared at him. Then she scowled. “Mean