Bought Bride For The Argentinian (Conveniently Wed!) Page 5

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Taking you somewhere which will have easy access to the race ground.’

  ‘I’m not spending all my budget on a fancy hotel—’

  ‘Let me worry about the budget, Emily. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.’

  Enjoy the ride? He was definitely crazy. Yet somehow...somehow...Emily found herself doing exactly that. She blamed the accumulated jet lag of recent back-to-back flights across the globe for her compliance, because why else would she have settled back into the squishy comfort of the seat, secretly relieved not to have to stay in that ghastly motel, which looked nothing like it had done on the website?

  And wasn’t she secretly enjoying watching Alej manoeuvre the powerful car through the city streets? It felt like something of a voyeuristic and guilty distraction to observe the thrust of his muscular thighs as he deftly weaved in and out of traffic, and before long he was drawing up outside a beautiful hotel in the historic part of the city. Ornate spires soared up into a cloudless blue sky and window boxes of bright pink flowers added splashes of colour to the gracious façade. Emily glanced up at the sign. Even if her research hadn’t flagged up this as one of the most exclusive places to stay in the city—she could have worked that out for herself.

  ‘No way. I can’t possibly stay here,’ she objected. ‘This is one of the best hotels in Melbourne.’

  ‘You have no choice. Everywhere else will be full because of the race.’ His voice was underpinned with the steely certainty that here was a man used to getting everything he wanted. ‘I have a suite. There’s plenty of room. Don’t worry, Emily—there’s no cause for concern.’

  No cause for concern? A low laugh punched its way out of Emily’s lungs as she stared at his olive-skinned profile, where once she used to run a gentle fingertip along the shadowed edge of his jutting jaw. Had he become the master of understatement in the intervening years or was he just oblivious to the glaringly obvious? ‘You really think I’m going to share a suite with you?’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ He turned his head to look at her, his green eyes hard and flinty. ‘I know we never made it to the hotel stage in our relationship but surely you’ve shared accommodation with a man before. And most women manage to rent in mixed houses these days, don’t they—without it resulting in some kind of orgy?’

  ‘But we’ve—’

  ‘Had sex?’ he supplied baldly. ‘Yeah, in theory we did. Though in reality it was just plenty of foreplay and a single night of romping amid bales of straw before you ran out on me next morning, which hardly qualifies for the deepest and most meaningful relationship of all time. Unless you think I won’t be able to stop myself from leaping on you because you’re just so damned alluring?’

  As he spoke, his gaze was raking over her with undeniable mockery and suddenly Emily felt foolish in her cheap dress and flat sandals. ‘I wasn’t implying—’

  ‘Yes, you were.’ His voice lowered. ‘Believe me, Emily—I prefer women who take a little more care with their appearance than you do. But most of all, I like them willing. You, of all people, should know that.’

  She could feel her flush deepening and the palms of her hands growing even clammier as she wiped them down the sides of her dress. It was an unkind and unnecessary comment to make. But it was true, wasn’t it? She had made it clear that she’d been his for the taking when she’d fallen in love with him. He’d been six years older and had tried to do the honourable thing, but that hadn’t deterred her. At the age of seventeen it was as if all the scales had fallen from her eyes. Overnight, it seemed, their platonic friendship had changed and she had looked at him with a hunger she hadn’t known before, or since. She had been ready, willing and available whenever the opportunity had arisen. All those snatched and stolen moments had only added an extra layer of excitement to their secret relationship. And then, when he had given her what she’d wanted, she had walked away with nothing but a few cruel words lingering in her wake.

  She had done it because she’d been backed into a corner by her stepfather, who had made all kinds of horrible threats.

  But hadn’t a tiny part of her been relieved to walk away? To be free of all that compulsion and desire and obsession, which had made her fear she was too much like her foolish mother? That she would end up becoming weak and dependent on a man?

  ‘There are two bedrooms,’ Alejandro was saying. ‘You can have your own space if that’s what you want—’

  ‘Of course it’s what I want,’ she snapped. ‘Surely you don’t think I’m sharing a room with you?’

  ‘It would be a novel experience,’ he observed softly. ‘And one I’d be willing to try.’

  ‘In your dreams,’ she retorted as a valet approached to open the door for her.

  ‘Yours too, perhaps?’ he suggested, with a pointed glance at her hardening nipples.

  ‘Will you please stop making innuendos?’

  ‘I’m not.’ He slanted her a mocking smile. ‘I’m merely making an observation.’

  Pre-empting the approaching valet, Emily opened the car door herself, furious at the accuracy of Alejandro’s arrogant words but even more furious at the way she couldn’t seem to help her body from responding to him. Suddenly she was aware of a rush of heat which pooled at her groin, but most of all she was aware of the Argentinian’s appreciative gaze on her bare legs as she wriggled out of the car.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘IT’S HIM! IT’S definitely him! Hey, Alej—can we get a selfie with you?’

  Two beautiful young American women with tumbling hair and super-tight denim shorts had spotted their entry into the hotel and were clattering their way across the lobby towards them on gravity-defying shoes.

  ‘No,’ snapped Emily. ‘Refuse politely.’

  Alejandro turned his head towards her, his dark brows raised. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if you’re serious about politics, you need to stop people constantly seeing you with gorgeous women fawning all over you. It makes you look like a lightweight and a flirt. Tell them you’re expecting a call.’

  ‘But I’m not.’

  ‘Just make an excuse.’

  ‘If you insist,’ he said drily.

  ‘I do. And my advice is what you’re paying for. Remember?’

  ‘When did you get so insistent, Emily?’

  ‘When I started my own business and recognised the need to assert myself. It’s a particularly useful trait when I’m dealing with stubborn men.’

  ‘You don’t say?’ he mocked.

  ‘Indeed, I do. Now, be polite by all means—if such a concept isn’t alien to you—but walk straight past them.’

  Without pausing mid-stride, Alejandro called out his apologies to the two women, who pouted prettily as he and Emily made their way towards the elevator. She wondered if she had imagined their look of astonishment as they’d stared at the Argentinian’s companion but an unexpected glimpse of herself as they walked past an enormous rose-gold mirror made her realise just how awful she looked.

  The doors of the executive elevator slid open and the rapid ride towards the penthouse was just long enough to remind her what real luxury felt like. She hadn’t experienced it since her mother’s marriage to Paul, when extravagance had been part of her daily life and it had been drummed into her that she must be grateful at all times. Grateful that her stepfather had given her a home—and what a home!

  And she had tried. She’d tried so hard. Pretended not to mind those interminable dinners, which had gone on and on and the adults had forgotten she was there. Pretended not to be bored at being dragged around yet another stuffy museum to which her stepfather had donated money in his attempt to ingratiate himself into society. Because wasn’t all that preferable to listening to the muffled sobs of her mother and having to play ignorant about where she’d left her bottle of pills?

  Sometimes it seemed sh
e’d spent her whole life pretending. She was even pretending now, wasn’t she? Trying to make out that she wasn’t in the least bit affected by the sexy hunk who was standing on the other side of the elevator.

  ‘We’re here.’ Alejandro’s words shattered her reverie and Emily followed him into an enormous suite where the first thing she saw—perched on a raised dais—was a white baby grand piano.

  Searching round for evidence of more luxury, she quickly found it. Futuristic glass lights in candy shades spilled shafts of colours all over the modern, monochrome furniture. An angular sculpture stood framed against the city sky in one of the vast picture windows. Everything seemed so stark and pristine, which somehow emphasised Alejandro’s earthy appeal as he put down her suitcase and walked towards a large desk. His olive skin glowed as he glanced down at a pile of cards and began to flick his way through them. The thick tumble of his hair looked almost blue-black in the sunshine and suddenly Emily found herself wanting to run her fingers through the lustrous waves, just like in the old days. She wanted to press her body up against his and slide her tongue against the roughness of his shadowed jaw. And yet it was dangerous to feel like that. She might be unfulfilled, but at least she was not hung up and obsessing. Not bereft or aching or staring at her phone, waiting for some man who was never going to ring.

  She thought how at home he seemed in this lavish setting, he who had been born to abject poverty—and how, ironically, it was her who now felt out of place. And her travel-weary and un-showered state wasn’t exactly helping. How could she possibly concentrate on work when she still felt so hot and sticky—especially when Alejandro looked so cool and pristine?

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to point me in the direction of my room?’ she suggested. ‘I’d like to freshen up before we get down to work.’

  ‘Sure.’ He picked up her suitcase. ‘Come with me,’ he said, observing her instinctively shrinking away as he came close.

  Leading her down the wide and spacious corridor towards the two bedrooms, Alejandro wondered when she had become so uptight. He remembered her astride a horse, with the wind in her hair—someone who bore no resemblance to the sensible creature she’d become in her plain clothes. Maybe that was what happened to women when they lost their innocence. Perhaps they lost their softness, too. She was the only virgin he’d ever had so he had nobody to compare her with. Cynically, his mouth twisted. There weren’t too many virgins to be found in the world he inhabited.

  Flinging open a bedroom door where creamy drapes framed a blue sky, he wished he could just tumble her down on that big white bed and take her without ceremony. Because wouldn’t some perfunctory sex rid his mind and body of his damned hunger for her?

  ‘This is it.’

  ‘Wow,’ she said softly, glancing at the modern artwork which adorned the walls and appearing to look at everything in the room, except for the bed. She walked over to the window. ‘That’s some view.’

  ‘Best in the city. Come and find me when you’ve finished. And don’t be long. There’s a party on Marcus Hedlund’s yacht in the harbour.’

  ‘The Swedish industrialist?’

  ‘The very same. I hope you’ve come suitably prepared.’ His gaze swept over the wilting fabric of her dress. ‘These affairs tend to be quite dressy.’

  ‘I know that. I’ve done my research. Don’t worry, Alejandro. I’ll try not to let you down.’

  The quick tilt of her chin suddenly reminded Alejandro of the daredevil teenager he’d once taught to ride and something unknown and dark twisted deep inside him as he remembered how close they’d once been. Until he reminded himself that the teenager had grown up and become a snobbish replica of her grasping mother. ‘I look forward to seeing what miracles you can perform,’ he said curtly, before turning away.

  Returning to the drawing room, he tried to concentrate on the pile of paperwork awaiting him, but for once he found it impossible to lose himself in his workload. He should have been overjoyed at the fact that he was about to float his highly successful drinks company on the stock market for an eye-watering sum of money. Whoever would have thought that every teenager on the planet would have considered it the height of cool to quaff a cleverly marketed drink which was packed with herbs from his homeland and based on Argentina’s favourite drink of yerba maté? Or that every business gamble he’d ever taken would confound even his own expectations and lead him to unimaginable riches?

  And all this had happened to someone who’d been born in a villa miseria—a miserable shack crammed beside hundreds of others in a dirty settlement outside Buenos Aires, with unpaved roads and no sanitation. Even after his mother had managed to shed her past for long enough to get herself a job as a rich Englishman’s housekeeper, Alej’s education had been almost non-existent. His passion and talent for riding had allowed him to put learning on the back burner and nobody had really cared that he’d skipped school most days. Able to read and write but without a single exam to his name, it had been a matter of pride and perseverance which had later made him devour books and newspapers and educate himself that way.

  But his subsequent successes had never managed to fill the void deep inside him, or to lighten the darkness which seemed a fundamental part of his nature. He had been betrayed, first by Emily and then by his mother, and had sometimes wondered if those two key events had scarred him irrevocably, making him the man he had become—someone who functioned efficiently on every level but who never really felt anything. He would never know and he didn’t really care. His mother was dead now, taking her sordid past to the grave with her, and he had tried with varying degrees of success not to be judgemental about the things she had done.

  But Emily was alive, wasn’t she? Delicious and luscious and alive. Some people said that moving into the future was only possible if you were properly reconciled with your past, and that was something which had so far eluded him. Until now. His mouth tightened. Because that was what he intended to do. To claim her. To enjoy her in a way which had not been possible before. To tie up all the loose ends so there was no chance they could ever become unravelled again.

  The sound of soft footsteps broke into his thoughts and he looked up, his groin hardening when he saw Emily standing in the doorway.

  He swallowed. A quick glance at his watch showed him that in a little over half an hour she had managed to achieve a remarkable transformation. Her newly washed hair had been piled into a messy updo which gave her a tantalising just-got-out-of-bed look. Escaping strands had already begun to dry dark gold and shiny as they tumbled around her long neck and framed a face which had been delicately touched with make-up.

  But it was her outfit which made the most startling difference. Gone was the functional cotton shift and in its place a flirty dress of red silk, a colour he’d never seen her wear before. His throat tightened. Had she deliberately bought it a little on the small side, or was the delicate material supposed to cling to her generous breasts like that, so that he could barely tear his gaze away from them? Bright and bold, it had tiny buttons all the way down the front and fell to just above each shapely knee. Hugging her narrow waist, it flared slightly over her hips and the hot-faced, crumpled creature who had greeted him at the racetrack suddenly became a distant memory.

  Alejandro couldn’t fault the way she looked and yet something raw and primitive began to throb through his veins as he wondered how many times she had performed this Cinderella scenario in the past. Had she dressed up like this for other men? he thought, with a sharp surge of jealousy. Had they too been busy thinking about how much they’d like to slide their fingers beneath that scarlet hemline to caress her cool thighs, before travelling further upwards to find her melting wetness? A pulse throbbed at his temple. Of course they had. Why wouldn’t they, when she’d been the hottest woman he had ever known and had told him that she planned to take as many lovers as possible? That declaration had filled him with an impotent rage for a long time afte
r she’d left and he’d sometimes found himself punching at his pillow in the middle of the night, until he had completely flattened it.

  But he doubted any man had pleasured Emily Green as thoroughly as he was about to do. He wanted to rip the dress from her body and for her panties to follow, but he forced himself to put his desire on ice and to adopt the indifferent mask which both intrigued and infuriated his many lovers.

  ‘Did somebody wave a magic wand?’ he questioned carelessly. ‘Does it turn back into a sensible cotton dress at midnight?’

  She gave a shrug which didn’t quite come off. ‘If you’re referring to my outfit, I borrowed it from my friend, since she goes to a lot more fancy functions than I do.’

  Which might explain why the dress was straining so tantalisingly across her breasts that he could see the faint outline of her nipples. He swallowed. ‘I see.’

  ‘But we aren’t here to discuss my wardrobe choices,’ she said, primly nodding her head like a schoolteacher who was about to start a lesson. ‘I suggest we get down to work.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Though you could probably use a drink first?’

  ‘Nothing alcoholic!’ she responded swiftly.

  He gave a low laugh. ‘Don’t worry, Emily. I wasn’t planning on plying you with fine wine. I was offering you water.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said. ‘Well, thanks. Water would be great.’

  Emily watched as he got up from the desk, unable to tear her eyes away from him. She’d told him that she wanted to work, but the sight of Alejandro moving across the room made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than his dark beauty and physical grace, as he walked over to a sleek bar of polished black wood. He added ice to two drinks—yet when he handed her a glass it wasn’t coldness she felt but a sizzle of fire as his skin brushed against hers.

  She wondered what was the matter with her. She didn’t usually have showers which turned into something disturbingly erotic, but that was what had just happened as she’d washed herself in the luxury bathroom. The warm water had failed to remove the prickle of goosebumps as she’d started imagining Alejandro’s fingers sliding over her flesh and the corresponding throb of her nipples had made her feel restless as she had towelled herself dry. Yet this was nothing like the person she usually was. The prim and efficient woman she’d become. She prided herself on the professionalism which was so important to her and on her ability to think coolly and impartially. So stop focussing on sex and start concentrating on what you’re being paid for, she reminded herself.