Modern Romance July 2019 Books 1-4. Sharon Kendrick
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need rather than ending up on the scrapheap, which is where he’s heading right now.’
‘Are you trying to use an old, sick horse in order to blackmail me?’
‘Not at all. I’m simply stating facts,’ he said. ‘And suggesting we do a trade-off.’
Still reeling from the fact that he held her responsible for his mother’s sacking, Emily wondered what on earth he was talking about. Because what could someone like her do for someone like him, when he was an iconic billionaire and she was...? She stared down at her jeans and canvas sneakers. At the unmanicured hands which were resting on the sides of the chair. She was just an ordinary woman trying to find some balance after a tumultuous upbringing, which had bounced her round like a rubber ball. A woman who had been chasing independence since she’d graduated from college. Normality was what she craved more than anything and contact with Alejandro Sabato certainly wouldn’t go anywhere towards helping her achieve that aim. Because he made her want something it was dangerous to want and that something was him. He made her think of slow touching and long kissing—both of which she’d like to do right now, even though he was looking at her with an expression of barely veiled contempt. And hadn’t that been the root cause of her mother’s tragic story—that she had been hooked on a man who had secretly despised her? Did she really want the same thing for herself?
Her instinct was to finish her drink, to smile politely and tell him she would manage somehow. She would find a way to save Joya, though she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to go about it in a country which now felt distinctly foreign to her, despite having spent so much time here.
But Argentina was Alej’s homeland, wasn’t it? If anyone knew how best to deal with rehoming an ancient horse and rescuing him from certain death, it was him. And because he looked so powerful and dependable as he sat opposite her on the shaded veranda, she found the words leaving her mouth before she’d had time to consider the wisdom of saying them. ‘What kind of trade-off?’ she questioned cautiously.
Reflectively, he stirred his drink with the bombilla before lifting his gaze to hers, rugged features darkened by the shade cast by the overgrown shrubs which tumbled down the side of the veranda. ‘How much do you know about me, Emily?’
It was an unexpected question and Emily wished he hadn’t asked it. Because she knew him intimately, as only a lover could. His hard body. That low, exultant moan he’d given as he had bucked to fulfilment—over and over during that night. The only night. Flustered, she shrugged, trying to dredge up some of the facts she’d buried deep in her mind, where she rarely allowed herself to venture. ‘I know you came from a poor family and that your mother—’
‘No, not back then,’ he interrupted, and suddenly there was a bitterness about him which she’d never seen before. Or maybe she just hadn’t hung around long enough to see it.
‘Spare me the rags-to-riches story which has been told a million times,’ he ordered roughly. ‘I’m talking about modern day. Real time. Now.’
Emily screwed up her eyes. If she admitted to knowing stuff about his current lifestyle, mightn’t that seem as if she was somehow trolling him, like some sad ex-lover who couldn’t bear to let go? But Alejandro Sabato wasn’t just anyone, she reminded herself. Everything he touched made headlines—both work and play. Who hadn’t heard of him?
‘I know you suddenly retired from polo,’ she said. ‘And that your decision took everyone by surprise.’
He nodded but provided no explanation. His verdant gaze just continued to cut through her, like a knife slicing through a ripe melon. ‘What else?’
She hesitated. After all the drama and fallout she’d experienced while growing up, she tried not to place too much importance on wealth—but in this case that would be like trying to ignore a whole herd of elephants who were trying to trample their way into a small cupboard. Especially with that top-of-the-range black helicopter, which was shining like a giant beetle in the field not far from where they were sitting, and the fact that Alejandro had recently come in at number thirty-four on a list of the world’s richest men.
‘That you invested in an energy drink which is pretty much drunk everywhere and used some of the money you made to help a friend set up a social media app. And then you bought into a motor-racing team, which has reaped its own rewards,’ she offered. ‘So you’ve exchanged one kind of high-intensity sport for another.’
‘Very neatly summarised,’ he said, raising his dark eyebrows. ‘Perhaps I should be flattered that you’ve taken such an interest in my progress, Emily.’
‘Please don’t be,’ she said sharply. ‘I work in PR and it’s my job to read the papers. And since you take up a lot of column space in the international press, it’s hardly surprising that I should have picked up some facts about you over the years.’
From the thick lashes which framed the startling green eyes, he continued to survey her. ‘Then you will know about Colette?’
There was the briefest of pauses before Emily nodded, surprised by how much it hurt to hear him say another woman’s name. ‘Doesn’t everyone? Supermodels of her stature are few and far between. I gather you broke up,’ she added blandly. ‘And she wrote an unauthorised biography about you.’
‘Did you read it?’
Emily shook her head. Was he mad? Of course she hadn’t read it! She’d seen the title and hadn’t even been able to face giving it a quick skim-through. Because what woman would want to absorb details of her ex-lover’s wild sex life with one of the world’s hottest supermodels? ‘No,’ she said, and then—because he seemed to be waiting for more—she forced herself to continue. ‘But I gather it wasn’t favourable towards you.’
Alej almost smiled. He’d forgotten the English penchant for understatement, just as he’d forgotten how Emily’s cool beauty had the ability to ignite something deep inside him. It always had. He hadn’t seen her in eight years, yet the lust which was pulsing through his body was as powerful as it had been when he’d met her way back when. Back then, she had been forbidden fruit for all kinds of reasons. Too young, for a start—even before you factored in that she was the stepdaughter of his mother’s employer and that nobody in their right mind would dare mess around with the boss’s family.
But desire was a powerful driver. It had eaten him up from the inside out. Plagued and tormented him like a fever, so that he’d had to work extra hard to concentrate on the polo which had always consumed him and had promised a route out of the poverty into which he’d been born. And wasn’t the truth that Emily hadn’t been like the other girls who hung around the polo field with their breasts practically falling out of their shirts? An out-and-out tomboy, she’d somehow made him feel stuff. Stuff he wasn’t used to feeling, which had made him want to buy her flowers and brush her hair in the moonlight and tell her that her skin was paler than the stars. He’d thought it had been the same for her—that she had reciprocated his see-sawing emotions during those long months of stolen kisses and furtive embraces before he had finally made love to her.
His groin hardened. Because of her innocence and relative youth he had employed an uncharacteristic restraint around Emily Green. It had almost killed him to hold off until her eighteenth birthday, though in the end they had missed it by a day because they just couldn’t wait any longer. Never had a sexual build-up been so exquisitely slow or sweetly torturous, so that when he had finally slipped inside her, he’d come almost as quickly as she had done. He’d been having safe sex with willing partners since the age of sixteen—but nothing could have prepared Alej for his first time with Emily, when he plunged deep into her tight and molten heat. The only time, he reminded himself bitterly, before forcing his attention back to the present and the sapphire-blue eyes which were regarding him with a curiosity which was somehow adding to his frustration and long-suppressed anger.
‘It was, as you say—an unfavourable piece,’ he conceded, his temperate tone at odds with his turbulent thoughts. ‘But, unfortunately, mud sticks and she told a lot of lies about me.’
She