Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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and swim to shore—it couldn’t be more than half a mile …
‘That’s it,’ she cried and slapped her hand on the table, making the glass and cutlery rattle.
‘Gianni, I thought I knew you.’ She turned to the young man at her side, the first genuine smile of the evening lighting her face. It had come to her out of the blue when she had thought of swimming.
‘You were in the under-twenty-ones swimming team for Rome University at the European Universities’ sports challenge held in Holland four years ago.’
‘Yes, señora, I recognized you immediately, but I thought you did not remember me.’
‘Oh, please call me Emily—you did before,’ she reminded him. ‘I watched you win in an amazing split-second finish in the fifteen hundred metres—you were fantastic, and we met at the party afterwards.’
‘That’s right, and I saw you win the two hundred metres with two seconds to spare. You were brilliant.’
‘Thank you. That was one of my finer moments.’ She preened and laughed and so did Gianni.
His father intervened. ‘You two know each other.’ And his handsome face was wreathed in smiles. ‘What a happy coincidence.’
‘Yes. And you must be very proud of your son. Did you see him win that race? It was such a close finish after such a long race. He was incredible,’ Emily enthused.
‘Regrettably, no. I was in South America at the time,’ and Emily noticed his eyes stray to Eloise.
‘Enough about swimming,’ Eloise cut in. ‘That is all the boy ever talks about, that and the bank, just like Carlo,’ she said petulantly. ‘It is so boring.’
‘I found it rather enlightening,’ Anton said. ‘I never knew you were a champion swimmer, Emily.’
Emily caught the faintly sarcastic tone and a hint of anger in the dark eyes that met hers. ‘Why should you?’ She shrugged. ‘You have only known me a couple of months, and anyway I am not any more.’
Suddenly she felt bone-tired. Only an idiot could be unaware of the undercurrent of tension beneath the surface of the supposedly friendly conversation all evening, and it had given her a horrendous headache. That and the appalling realization that all she had to look forward to were countless more such encounters with Anton and his friends had stretched her nerves to breaking-point.
Pushing back her chair, she stood up. ‘Well, it has been a delightful evening meeting you all.’ She cast a social smile around the table. ‘But I am afraid I will have to call it a night. Please excuse me.’ The men made to rise. ‘No, please, Anton will keep you entertained.’
Anton placed an arm along the back of Emily’s waist and she stiffened in shock—she had not realized he had risen with her.
‘I will escort you to the cabin, Emily.’ His tone was as smooth as silk, and then, raising his voice, he added for his guests’ benefit. ‘If you need anything ask the steward. I’ll be back soon.’
‘A champion swimmer. I’m impressed,’ Anton declared as he stopped and opened their cabin door, and ushered her inside. ‘You are full of surprises, Emily, but if there are any more on the horizon pass them by me first,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘I do not appreciate being made to look a fool in front of our guests, while you flirt and reminisce with another man.’
‘You made to look a fool?’ She shook her head and twisted out of his arm to cast him a look of utter disgust. ‘I am the only fool around here, for being stupid enough to think I could ever love a man like you. A man who invites his mistress Eloise on his honeymoon.’
‘Eloise is not—’
‘Oh, please, you have had sex with her; it is in her eyes every time she looks at you. So don’t bother denying it.’
‘Once, a decade ago,’ he snapped. ‘Carlo is an old and valued friend of mine and I introduced them. I was best man at their wedding four years ago. Eloise is an old friend, nothing more.’
‘You don’t need to explain. I couldn’t care less, though I am amazed her husband puts up with it—he seems like a really nice man. Whereas you have to be the most devious, arrogant snake of a man it has ever been my misfortune to meet. And if you imagine for one second making me stay with you will change how I think of you … it won’t. Now go back to your guests, Anton. I have a headache and I am going to bed. Alone.’
Anton fought down the furious impulse to shut her smart mouth with his own. ‘Not alone, Emily,’ he said with implacable softness and took her arm.
She struggled to break free, but he tightened his grip. ‘You are my wife and sharing my bed—that is not negotiable.’
His dark brooding eyes held hers. He saw the anger, the pain she tried to hide in the blue depths, and surely not fear?
Shocked, he let go of her arm. He was a huge success at everything he did; women looked at him admiringly, hungrily, with adoration, wanting to please him, but never with fear. So how the hell had he managed to make his bride of one day actually look afraid of him?
‘You look worn out. I’ll get you some painkillers, and you can get some sleep.’
Hmm. Emily sighed her pleasure as a strong hand slowly massaged her breast. She settled back against a hard male body and arched her neck as firm lips caressed the slender length of her throat, a warm tongue lingering on the steadily beating pulse there. Her eyes half opened and fluttered closed as she gave herself up to the wondrous world of sensations engulfing her. Long fingers caressing, arousing her eager flesh, she was lost in a sensual dream, her heart beating with ever-increasing speed. She turned, restless heat spreading through every cell in her body, her hands curving over strong shoulders. His mouth was on hers, his muscular legs parting hers.
Her eyes flew open. It was no dream—it was Anton lying over her, the morning sun highlighting his blue-black hair, his dark molten eyes scorching through to her soul promising paradise and it was way too late to resist. She didn’t want to resist. She wanted him, burned for him. She felt the velvet tip of him against her and raised her pelvis, pressing up to him.
‘You want me?’ Anton husked throatily.
‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she moaned.
His hands curved around her thighs, lifting her, and in a single powerful thrust he filled her. He thrust again harder and faster as her body caught his rhythm and they rode a tidal wave of sheer sensation. Emily climaxed in seconds with a convulsive pleasure so intense it blew her mind, and Anton followed, his great body jerking in explosive release.
Later when the tremors stopped Emily felt a wave of shame at her easy capitulation. She opened her eyes and lifted her hands to push at his chest; instead she found them gathered in one of his. He lifted his other hand and she felt him brush a few tendrils of hair from her forehead.
‘You okay, Emily?’
‘As okay as I will ever be as long as I am stuck with you.’
‘Hell and damnation.’ He swore. ‘We had a fight yesterday. It is over, done with. The two people we were fighting over are dead—that is the reality. Now we move on.’
‘The only place I want to move is out of here.’ She couldn’t help herself. He had cold-bloodedly deceived her, and he rubbed her up the wrong way with his blasted superior tone and his flaming arrogance.
‘Your trouble is you can’t admit that you want a man like me, can you?’ he grated, bending his head and crushing her mouth under his. Then he pulled back to look into her eyes.
‘You can’t face reality, that is your problem; you want love and sweet nothings, a fairy tale, when anyone with any sense knows the love you imagine does not exist.’
He ran a hand through his rumpled hair, and swung his legs off the bed to sit looking down at her, totally unconscious of his nudity.
‘Sexual