Bought Bride For The Argentinian (Conveniently Wed!) Page 7

  He gave a low laugh. ‘Oh, I understand more than you think, querida, but I’m afraid it’s not that easy. Because you want me, Emily. You might wish you didn’t, but you do. You want me so badly I can almost taste it and, beneath that vampy borrowed dress, I’m willing to bet my entire fortune that your panties are wet.’ His eyes glittered. ‘The truth is that I’m excited about having sex with you and am counting down the hours until you’re honest enough to admit you feel exactly the same way.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE COCKTAIL PARTY was a crush—a glitzy affair on board an enormous yacht moored in Melbourne’s exclusive harbour, filled with socialites and celebrities who had gathered in the city for the big race. The luxury craft bobbed against a backdrop of glittering skyscrapers, an internationally famous rap artist was playing at the far end of the deck and trays of drinks were being circulated by young and very beautiful serving staff who looked like off-duty actors. Very quickly Alejandro was surrounded by a cluster of what looked like adoring fans, leaving Emily standing at the shadowed edge of the exalted golden circle which grew around him.

  In truth she’d wanted to skip this party, especially after that disturbing interlude on the sofa. The fact that they’d been so intimate and the fact that she had very nearly succumbed to having sex with him had left her needing to put some very necessary space between her and Alejandro. She didn’t think she could bear to keep encountering his mocking green gaze, which was enough to start her heart racing as she remembered his fingers sliding so tantalisingly over her breasts and her thighs.

  But it had been about more than the physical. It had been the other stuff, which was way more disturbing. She’d felt connected to him on another level. As if he was the only one who could tap that cold, dark place deep inside her and fill her with warmth and life. Was that being fanciful? Of course it was. She mustn’t start inventing fairy tales about him when the reality was apparent, if only she had the courage to face up to it. She was just a frustrated and lonely woman who hadn’t been touched like that since she was barely eighteen years old and, in the intervening time, her body must have been simmering away with frustration. It was just a bitter irony that the only man she’d ever cared for was also the man she’d deliberately wounded because she’d been too young and confused to see any other way out.

  She had to let it go. She had to or she wouldn’t be able to complete the job tasked to her and her professional pride and reputation would be dented. She wanted Alej to see her as someone other than a sexual pushover. Which was why she’d coolly suggested he attend the cocktail party on his own while she tried to claw back some of the hours lost to jet lag. But he had refused point-blank.

  ‘Me stroking your breasts before you deciding you don’t want to play along any more doesn’t qualify you for dispensation from the job you’re being paid to do,’ he had drawled. ‘You’re the official face of my sober new image, Emily, and you’re coming to the party with me. You can catch up on your sleep tomorrow, before the race.’

  She hated the way he talked about sex so... casually...as if it was nothing more than an enjoyable bodily function which could just be enjoyed without much thought or deliberation. Maybe that was how men like him thought of it. When women flung themselves so eagerly at Alej Sabato—herself included—why wouldn’t he think of them as anything but sexual fodder? But she had found herself unable to argue with his logic. You couldn’t really cite being overly attracted to your boss as a reason for not doing your job properly, could you?

  Nonetheless, it had been with a heavy heart that she’d put a few final tweaks to her dishevelled appearance and joined him in the back of the chauffeur-driven car which had brought them down to the harbour. And now she was cast in her favourite role of observer, watching the comings and goings of the glittering guests as she stood in a shadowed corner.

  She noticed that, although the party was attended by lots of the hunky drivers who were competing in the race the following day, it was the charismatic Alejandro who captured all the attention. Everyone wanted to talk to him, she realised. She spotted a famous Hollywood actress making her way across the deck to push her way through the small crowd gathered in front of him, her famous fall of blonde hair blowing softly in the early evening breeze. Emily screwed up her nose. Kate Palmer, yes, that was her name—a woman who’d won two BAFTA awards, amongst others. And wasn’t that a top-selling novelist surreptitiously sneaking a selfie with him, despite Emily’s stern instructions that such casual interactions must stop if he wanted to be taken seriously?

  She told herself it was professional pique which was making her so cross that he was ignoring her advice but the truth was a little more sinister. Because a dark rush of jealousy was clenching at her heart, making her want to rush over to the glittering group and to grab Alej possessively by the arm and to announce that he’d been making love to her earlier.

  ‘Must be frustrating.’

  A voice made Emily break her gaze from the oddly uncomfortable sight of Alejandro saying something which made the award-winning actress dissolve into instant laughter. Reluctantly she turned her head to study the tanned features of the tall man who had positioned himself beside her, his fair hair and open face making him seem the Argentinian’s very antithesis.

  ‘What must?’ she asked.

  The man shrugged. ‘Dating someone like that, who attracts women like moths to the flame. He’s famous for it. Or should I say infamous? I saw you come in with him,’ he said, by way of an explanation Emily hadn’t asked for.

  ‘I’m not dating him,’ said Emily slowly.

  ‘No? Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all evening.’ His blue eyes lit up and he extended his hand. ‘Marcus Hedlund.’

  ‘Emily Green,’ she said as she shook it.

  ‘Happy to meet you, Emily Green. You know, I’m looking for someone who might be interested in sailing away for a year and a day.’ He smiled. ‘And I’ve always had a thing about a woman in a red dress. Could I interest you in the position?’

  ‘That’s a terribly kind offer,’ said Emily sweetly. ‘But I’m afraid I’m not in a position to sail anywhere right now—and I’m a terrible sailor anyway.’

  ‘I could teach you. We Swedes make great teachers—didn’t you know that?’

  Emily smiled back in spite of herself. ‘I’m afraid I’m beyond teaching.’

  ‘Nobody is beyond teaching.’ Marcus plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and handed one to Emily and, although she had diligently stuck to fizzy water all evening, she couldn’t resist a sip of the fine wine.

  ‘So, back to Sabato,’ he continued. ‘You’re saying he’s just...?’

  ‘Just wondering why you’re monopolising my newest member of staff,’ interjected a voice of steel, and Emily looked up to see that Alejandro had extricated himself from his adoring audience and was standing in front of them, surveying her and Marcus with an unfathomable look darkening his green eyes.

  ‘You were ignoring her, so I stepped in,’ said Marcus, giving an unabashed shrug. ‘I was simply being chivalrous.’

  ‘Is that what you call it?’ queried Alejandro drily. ‘Surely you have plenty of women to choose from, Marcus—especially when you own a yacht this size.’

  ‘Not when you’re in the vicinity, man. And surely you must know by now that it’s not the size of someone’s yacht which interests them. Nice to meet you, Emily.’ Marcus grinned. ‘Don’t waste your time falling for him.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening,’ Emily answered crisply, watching as the Swede raised his glass in a mocking toast and sauntered across the deck, before turning her attention to Alejandro. ‘Were you listening to a word I said to you earlier?’ she questioned exasperatedly.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Surely I’m the one who should be feeling aggrieved, since I’ve just found you flirting with one of my oldest friends.’
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  ‘I shall flirt with whoever I please. You seem to have no qualms about doing the same. And please don’t try to change the subject, Alejandro. I’m serious.’

  He could see that. She had assumed a disapproving expression, which seemed at odds with the woman who had briefly come to life like a firecracker in his arms a couple of hours ago. In her he had seen glimpses of the old Emily, who would thrill to his touch just as he would thrill to hers.

  But he hadn’t really known her at all back then, had he? He’d attributed to her all kinds of qualities she didn’t possess, probably because she’d been an innocent virgin who had made him feel old-fashioned and protective towards her. She had destroyed his idealism with a few cruel words and, because of his dalliance with her, his mother had been summarily dismissed from her job.

  He felt a beat of anger as he remembered his impotent rage when he’d heard about his mother’s sacking, but anger was a pointless emotion. Desire was something he was better equipped to deal with. And revenge, of course. A primitive reaction but a very satisfying one, nonetheless. He hid his flicker of anticipation behind a bland mask of social concern.

  ‘Would you like some food?’ he questioned.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m allergic to caviar. I’m going to head back to the hotel and do a little work before getting an early night.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No, Alejandro,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘You stay on here. People will be disappointed if you leave now. You’re obviously the guest of honour and you don’t need me hanging around. Besides, that actress you were talking to has been staring at you with moony eyes for the last five minutes.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you told me women were off limits?’

  ‘Women in the plural, not the singular! If you...’ She drew in a deep breath and seemed to be having difficulty finding the right words. ‘If you’ve decided you want to enter into a normal relationship with someone, that would be...fine. In fact, it would be more than fine and I can’t see that having an actress as a consort would act as a deterrent to your political ambition. It’s hardly mould-breaking, is it?’

  ‘So you’re giving me your consent to date her?’

  Her mouth flattened. ‘You don’t need my consent to date anyone. You’re as much of a free agent as I am. Just try not to make too much noise if you decide to bring her back to the suite tonight, will you? I’ll take your car to the hotel and send the driver straight back. Goodnight.’

  With that, she was gone, giving him a brief smile as she turned to leave, and Alej was left feeling distinctly outmanoeuvred as he stared at her retreating form. Shiny strands of dark blonde hair were dangling at the back of her neck and her skirt was a scarlet sheen as it swished enticingly against her bottom.

  The actress was heading towards him but he barely noticed her—he was too outraged by Emily’s liberal attitude as a myriad previously unknown and buttoned-up prejudices came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Was she really giving him the thumbs-up to bring another woman to his bed tonight, when he had been doing some fairly intimate things to her a few hours earlier? Especially when she was sleeping just a few yards down the corridor? His mouth hardened with disapproval. Was that the type of free-love world she operated in these days?

  ‘Alej?’

  It was the classically trained voice of Kate Palmer, her short Grecian-style dress showing a lot of honed and gleaming thigh. Slanting him a slow smile, she ran her fingers through her defining fall of hair with the deliberate nonchalance of someone who spent much of her life being watched.

  ‘I wondered where you were.’

  ‘Standing right here,’ he said. ‘As you see.’

  ‘Do you fancy going on somewhere else?’ she questioned, just a fraction too casually. ‘I’ve been invited to a party in Kooyong and we were all thinking of going on to the casino later. Should be a good crowd.’

  Alej studied her. She had the twin cachet of beauty and fame and most men wouldn’t have thought twice about accepting an offer he suspected she didn’t have to make very often. His indifference towards her wasn’t feigned and yet it infuriated him that all he could think about was Emily and the insouciant way she’d left him standing there. Was she playing games with him, he wondered—or did she still get off with the kind of foreplay which threatened to drive a man insane?

  He realised that the actress was still looking at him with confident expectation and curved his mouth into a regretful smile—because who was to say he mightn’t take her up on her offer sometime in the future?

  ‘Not tonight, I’m afraid. Early night for me,’ he explained. ‘It’s the big race tomorrow.’

  She quickly recovered her obvious disappointment and slanted him another smile. ‘Of course. Good luck. Isn’t one of your drivers in pole position?’

  His heart wasn’t in it but he forced himself to continue the predictable conversation about his team’s chances, giving her time to beat a dignified retreat before he left the bobbing yacht and went in search of his car. The city was alive with a pre-race buzz of excitement and people were spilling out of bars and restaurants, but all Alej was aware of during the journey back to the hotel was the insidious invasion of desire. It heated his blood and licked at his skin. It was making him distinctly uncomfortable as his trousers strained over the throbbing hardness at his groin. His mouth was dry and his heart was racing as he entered the hotel and when the elevator deposited him in the penthouse suite, he found himself hoping against hope that Emily hadn’t gone to bed.

  She hadn’t.

  She was lying on the black leather sofa and she was fast asleep. His heart missed a beat. She’d changed from the borrowed red party frock and slipped into a pair of wide yoga pants and a sleeveless vest, against which her breasts rose and fell in time with her steady breathing. Before her a half-drunk cup of herb tea stood next to her computer and the closely written notebook she’d been referring to earlier. She’d let down her hair, so that it surrounded her head like a flaxen pillow, and it was that more than anything which had Alej transfixed as he stood in the doorway, feeling like a voyeur, not just to her, but to the past they had once shared.

  Because she used to wear her hair flowing down her back like that when she’d been seventeen, when he used to run his fingers wonderingly through the lustrous thickness, as if it were pure, spun gold, blending into the pillow they’d made of the hay bale. He thought about just going to bed and leaving her there—except that she’d wake up cold and uncomfortable and she wouldn’t be able to work unless she was properly rested. At least, that was what he convinced himself was his motive as he began to move towards her. As he glanced down at the table he could see she’d been drawing grids and a big triangle, around which different letters were scattered so that it looked like one of those mathematical equations he’d thankfully been spared due to his lack of schooling. Right in the centre of the page the letter M was written, with a big red circle around it and a series of question marks beside it.

  ‘Emily?’ he said softly.

  ‘Alej!’ Her eyelashes fluttered open and she stirred, rubbing her fist over her eyes. ‘Sorry. I must have fallen asleep. Obviously.’ She yawned. ‘What time is it?’

  She flicked him a heavy-lidded gaze and once again he felt his heart contract, because hadn’t she looked at him like that plenty of times before, in that sleepy, trusting way? Those times when she’d made him feel he could conquer the world. That everything she needed, he could provide for her. But his body had been the only thing she’d wanted, he reminded himself savagely. And maybe it still was.

  ‘It’s still early,’ he said evenly.

  ‘Oh.’ She struggled up into a sitting position. ‘Is the party over?’

  But Alej didn’t want to make polite small talk. He didn’t want to pretend he felt nothing as he looked down at her blonde and ruffled beauty. ‘Were those other men you left
me for as good as me, Emily?’ he questioned suddenly.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  She blinked at him and he could see a faint colour begin to wash over her pale cheeks. ‘What on earth has brought all this on?’

  ‘Seriously. I want to know. Were they as big as me? Did they make you come as easily as I did?’

  She was frowning now, half in confusion and half with something else. Something which made her tongue slide out of her mouth to moisten her lips. ‘Alej. Are you out of your mind? What on earth has brought all this on? Stop it,’ she whispered.

  ‘But you don’t want me to stop it, Emily. You never did. That much hasn’t changed.’

  His green eyes were burning into her, making her skin feel as if it were on fire, and Emily knew she should get straight off that sofa and head for the sanctuary of her bedroom. But somehow she couldn’t seem to bring herself to move—because the trouble was that he was right. She didn’t want him to stop—she wanted him to carry on talking dirty to her all night long and looking at her in that hungry way, as if he wanted to ravish her. The blunt sexual boasts were turning her on, as she guessed they were supposed to, and the warning narrative spinning around her head wasn’t strong enough to withstand the increasingly urgent demands of her body.

  And suddenly Emily had no real desire to fight them. Why would she when she’d been living without physical contact for so long? When most times she felt more like a piece of stone rather than a flesh-and-blood woman. Had abstinence brought her any pleasure or felt even a little bit worthwhile? No way. It had served only to make her isolated—but then, she’d always felt like that. She’d always been the person on the outside who was looking in. The daughter who was nothing but a burden to a socially ambitious mother and then the stepdaughter who had got in the way. Alej had been the only person who had ever made her feel as if she mattered.