Читать книгу A Cinderella For The Greek - Julia James - Страница 3

‘Take a look, Ellen,’ Max instructed softly.

Ellen looked.

And made no response.

She could have made no response even if someone had held a gun to her head, or shouted ‘Fire!’ She could only do what she was doing—which was staring. Staring, frozen, at the couple reflected in the mirror. At the tall, superbly elegant and dashing figure of Max Vasilikos...

And the tall, superbly elegant and stunning female at his side.

Dark ruby-red gown in lush moiré silk, wasp-waisted, flaring over her hips to flow in a waterfall of colour the full length of her legs and out into a sweeping train, its body-hugging bodice boned and darted to lift her breasts and reveal a full, generous décolletage, before fanning out over each shoulder in a splay of feathers. Curling tendrils played around her face—a face whose eyes were huge, thickly lashed and fathoms deep, whose cheeks were sculpted as if from marble, whose mouth was as lush and richly hued as damsons...

Emotion swept through Ellen. She couldn’t give a name to it—didn’t need to. She needed only to feel it rush through her, like a tide, like a river sweeping her upstream, unstoppable, irreversible, pushing everything that had been inside her head simply...out.

Because how could everything she’d thought about herself...everything that had been ground into her painful, mortified consciousness with sneering jibes and contemptuous looks...how could any of that stay now?

He turned her back to her reflection. ‘That is who you are, Ellen Mountford—you are beautiful.’