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* * *
Antonio guided his assistant to the elevators, hoping that the kiss hadn’t dulled her unflappable nature in the same way it had his. Dio, had he known that beneath that buttoned-up conservatively dressed professional there was a siren waiting to be unleashed, he might have given a second thought to making Emma his. His fake fiancée, an internal voice shouted in his mind.
He would have to keep such displays of public affection to a minimum if he were going to have a hope in hell of containing this situation. So he clung to the next step. Clung to what he knew needed to happen.
‘Your passport. Is it still in the office?’
For a moment he thought she might not have heard, but then understanding dawned across her features.
‘Yes.’
‘And the change of clothes you usually keep there?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and her efficient swift nod did nothing to dislodge her perfectly placed hair, pinned at the base of her neck. His fingers wanted to reach out and pull that hair apart, feel it against his skin.
He forced himself to focus. ‘Given the likely content of tomorrow’s newspapers, and the public reaction to our announcement, it might be better if you do not return home this evening.’
Emma frowned, thinking through the suggestion. ‘You think they know where I live? But I’m no one. How would they—?’
‘You are not no one, Emma. You are now the soon-to-be Mrs Arcuri, and I don’t think I need to remind you of the interest my considerable wealth brings.’
‘And you wouldn’t want a camp of reporters outside a tiny one-bed apartment in the deepest depths of Brooklyn?’ she asked, with a trace of that British wry humour dancing across her words.
‘I am not a snob, Emma.’ He swung round to look at her, shocked that she might even think so until he saw the smile painting her pretty features as she turned her head up to his.
‘Not going for the Prince and the Pauper angle?’
‘I couldn’t if I wanted to, Emma. I’m no prince, and I pay you considerably more than what a pauper has.’
Emma let out a huff of laughter as the lift doors opened onto the exquisite chequered foyer of The Langsford. She followed in Antonio’s wake as they approached the reception desk. The words penthouse suite and charge to my personal account drifted through her mind as she watched the interaction, feeling oddly displaced.
It took her a moment to realise that he was organising for her to stay here, in this hotel. She was his assistant, the booking of hotels was usually her domain, and yet it felt... She couldn’t find a word for what it felt like to see Antonio in action, catering to her needs.
As he led her away from the hustle of the concierge’s desk towards a private elevator and presented her with a gold key card, he asked if there was anything she might need from her apartment. Anything that couldn’t be purchased for her between now and Buenos Aires. There was no way he would let her go back to her apartment and deal with the gang of wolves that would be sure to be camped out on her doorstep, waiting for an interview.
Assuring him that there wasn’t anything, Emma stepped into the elevator and stopped. Antonio was staying in the foyer. He would either be going home or back to the office, she realised. She felt that she should say something, that there should be some conclusion to the events that had just happened, but oddly she couldn’t.
‘I’ll need you in the office tomorrow morning, to pick up your laptop and passport and amend our travel details before we fly to Argentina.’
She agreed just before the elevator doors closed and she was taken upwards through the building. The smooth, swift motion seeming to increase the swirling in her stomach. What on earth had she just agreed to?
* * *
ARCURI OFF THE MARKET FOR GOOD?
BY ROANNA KING
Shock engagement of international
tycoon breaks hearts!
Female socialites around the world woke to breaking hearts this morning at the news that international investment tycoon Antonio Arcuri of Arcuri Enterprises is officially off the market.
The notorious and now presumably ex-playboy, often seen wining and dining a bevy of beauties from models to heiresses, has been stolen from our clutches by...his secretary!
Little is known of the Englishwoman Emma Guilham, other than that she has been in his employ for eighteen months and that she has been unavailable for comment.
Such a surprising turn of events must surely form a suspicion that there will be another shock announcement in just nine months’ time. But, whatever the future holds for the happy couple, this intrepid reporter is very much looking forward to what is sure to be the future Mrs Arcuri’s grand unveiling in Buenos Aires!
