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Priceless: Bought for the Sicilian Billionaire's Bed / Bought: The Greek's Baby
Priceless: Bought for the Sicilian Billionaire's Bed / Bought: The Greek's Baby
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Priceless: Bought for the Sicilian Billionaire's Bed / Bought: The Greek's Baby

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Salvatore raised his brows. ‘Which particular question was that?’

‘You asked whether I was a virgin. Why?’

He had been about to trickle a finger from her stomach to the tempting fuzz of hair which lay at the fork of her thighs, but he resisted. If it was the truth she wanted, then he would give it to her. That way he couldn’t be accused of having capitalised on sex to make her agree to something she would later throw back in his face.

‘Because it would make a difference to what happened next,’ he said, and went over to open the bottle—wishing now that he had brought something other than champagne, for that too could be misinterpreted. He said nothing until the liquid had foamed up inside the glasses in a creamy cascade, letting it settle before he topped them up. Then he walked back over to the bed and handed her a glass—though he put his own down on the bedside table, untouched.

‘Thanks.’ Jessica took the drink with a reluctance she hoped didn’t show. It looked like ginger ale, and frankly, she wished it were ginger ale, for suddenly she felt peculiar, sitting naked in this billionaire’s bed, drinking his champagne.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. ‘A woman’s virginity is the greatest gift she can give to a man—apart from the children she will one day bear him.’

There were two outrageously old-fashioned concepts here, but for now only one concerned her. ‘So … so what would the problem have been if I had been a virgin?’

He had hoped that she might have been able to work it out for herself without him having to spell it out. But he must—to do otherwise would be deception, and that he could not and would not tolerate.

‘It would have been wasted on me,’ he said softly. ‘If you had been a virgin, I would have sent you away and told you to save that gift for the man you will one day marry.’

‘But—’

‘You see …’ his blue eyes narrowed as he cut across her words, for there must be no misunderstanding on her part ‘… you must understand that I am Sicilian, Jessica, and that I have very strict values about life, as well as marriage. I intend to one day go back to Sicily, to marry a Sicilian girl who will be a virgin. That is a given.’


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