Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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later. After all, neither of us is going anywhere,’ he said dismissively.
He would catch up on some work—he had let things slide a little in his pursuit of Emily and it would give her time to cool down. She said she loved him, and she certainly wanted him. Given his experience of her sex, she’d soon get over the shock of realizing her father had feet of clay after a few days in his bed.
Emily heard the threat in his words and glanced at him in disgust and walked away. Was he really so cold, so insensitive to believe for a second they could carry on as husband and wife now she knew why he had really married her?
Emily walked into the cabin and locked the door behind her. Blindly she headed for the bathroom, and was violently sick. She began to shake uncontrollably and, ripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower. She turned the water on full, and only then did she give way to the tears. She cried until she could cry no more. Then slowly she straightened and, picking up the shampoo provided, she washed her hair, and then scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to scrub away the scent, the memory of Anton’s touch from every pore of her skin. Trying to scrub away the pain, she had a hollow feeling that would be with her for the rest of her life …
She did not know the man she had married, had never known him. It was Nigel all over again, but worse, because she had been foolish enough to marry Anton. Nigel had wanted her for her supposed fortune and connections, and Anton—he had married her simply because her name was Fairfax. He had seduced her into marriage because he believed her father had seduced his sister. To fulfil a primitive need for revenge … no more or less … and she could not pretend otherwise.
The pain, the sense of betrayal were excruciating, but slowly as she finished washing, turned off the shower and wrapped a large towel around her naked body the pain was overtaken by a cold, numbing anger.
She thought of her parents, and, no matter what the arrogant Anton Diaz thought, she knew her father was incapable of doing what he had said. Her parents had loved each other, they had married in their twenties, and when her mother had died it had broken her father’s heart. She firmly believed it was the stress of losing his wife that had helped cause the heart attack that had killed him far too young.
It was her mother who, when she was terminally ill, had constantly told Emily to embrace life to the full, and not to waste time dwelling on past failures or grudges—life was much too short. A theory her uncle Clive had first taught her when as a child of twelve she had had to accept she was never going to be a ballet dancer.
A trait that Emily had inherited from the Deveral side of her family.
So why was she even giving Anton’s tragic tale a second thought? Where he had got it from she had no idea, and she cared even less. As for her marriage, as far as she was concerned it was over …
Five minutes later, dressed in casual drawstring linen trousers and a matching sleeveless top, Emily lifted her suitcase onto the bed and began to methodically pack the clothes she had unpacked only hours before.
She heard a knock on the door but ignored it.
She was immune to everything except the need to leave. She snapped the suitcase shut, and straightened up. Now all she needed was her travel bag and she was out of here.
‘Just what the hell do you think you are doing?’ a deep voice roared. And Emily spun round to see Anton striding towards her. ‘How dare you lock me out?’ he demanded. His black eyes leaping with fury, he grasped her shoulder. ‘What the hell do you think you are playing at, woman?’
‘I am not playing. I am leaving … The game is over,’ she said, standing tall and proud. ‘Your game,’ she said bitterly.
Emily felt nothing for him. She was cocooned in a block of ice. The hands on her shoulders, the close proximity of his big body had no effect on her. Except to reinforce her determination to leave. It was bad enough she had made the mistake of marrying him. She was certainly not going to allow him to manhandle her.
Anton was furious. He had got no work done, he couldn’t seem to concentrate, and finally he had given up and decided to smooth things over with Emily, only to find she had locked him out of their cabin. Not that it mattered—he had a master-key. But his temper was at breaking-point.
‘Over my dead body.’
‘That would be my preference,’ Emily tossed back.
She felt his great body tense and his hands fell from her shoulders. She watched his handsome face darken and for a second she thought she saw a flash of pain in his eyes, and for a moment she was ashamed of her hateful comment. She would not wish anybody dead. But Anton had the knack of making her say and feel things she did not want to.
‘Well, I think I can safely say, barring accidents, you will not get your wish any time soon. Though for the foreseeable future it appears I must watch my back where you are concerned, my sweet loving wife, because I have no intention of letting you leave. Not now. Not ever.’
‘You have no choice.’ She tilted up her chin and drew on every ounce of her pride to face him. ‘As far as I am concerned the marriage is finished.’
Anton’s dark eyes studied her.
He was furious at her defiance but he did not let it show. Because in a way he could understand her distress, her desire to lash back at him, though he had not appreciated her wishing him dead.
He didn’t do emotions, other than over death and birth maybe. But Emily was an emotional, passionate woman, as she had proved spectacularly last night. She had been brought up on love and happy ever after. Hell, he could still hear her cries of love ringing in his ears when he had taken possession of her exquisite body. And he would again, he thought confidently. She just needed time to adjust to the reality of life as his wife.
‘We always have a choice, Emily,’ he murmured silkily, and, snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her into the strength of his powerful body. ‘Your choice is quite simple. You stay with me, your husband,’ he emphasized, grasping her chin between his fingers and tilting her face up to his. ‘You behave civilly as my wife and the perfect hostess I know you to be with our guests and you can continue to dabble at your career until you’re pregnant with my child. Something that was implicit in the promise you made yesterday, I seem to recall.’
She stared at him. ‘That was before I knew the truth. Now let me go.’
Her usual luminous blue eyes were impenetrable, her body rigid in his hold, and it made Anton want to pierce her icy control … Something he would never have imagined she was capable of.
‘You have two choices. One, you stay with me. The other is you return to your brother’s home, and his pregnant wife, and inform them you have left me.’ He let his hand stroke down her throat, a finger resting on the pulse that beat wildly in her neck. Not such icy control as he had thought …
‘Then you can explain that naturally, as I am deeply upset, I am severing all ties with your family,’ he drawled with mocking sarcasm. ‘Which unfortunately for Fairfax Engineering will mean an immediate repayment of the loans I forwarded some months ago for the expansion of the company.’
Then, like all good predators, he watched and waited for his victim to recognize her fate.
He saw the puzzled expression on her face, could almost see her mind assimilating what he had said, and knew the moment she realized. Anger flared in her wide blue eyes and flags of colour stained her cheeks. She twisted out of his hold and he let her, smiling inwardly. He knew she was not going anywhere …
Emily took a few steps back on legs that trembled. The numbness that had protected her since his shocking revelation about her father was fading fast and the effort to remain unaffected by his closeness had taken every bit of control she possessed. She was horribly conscious that just being held against him had made her traitorous body achingly aware of him and was furious at herself and him … She drew in a few deep steadying breaths and wrapped her arms defensively around her midriff, grittily determined to control her anger and the rest …
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