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Antonio’s dark glance told her that he didn’t believe her, and as he said his goodbyes and ushered her back towards the limousine Emma felt horribly as if she’d been treading where she shouldn’t have been...
* * *
The foyer of The Excelsus gleamed in the sunlight through the glass-fronted entrance. She resisted the temptation to shiver, which was more from the incredible luxury surrounding her than the temperature. Her low heels clicked on the marble flooring as they made their way towards the reception desk.
‘Mr Arcuri!’ A perfectly suited manager greeted Antonio and then turned his attention to Emma. ‘And Ms Guilham. Welcome to The Excelsus.’
Momentarily startled that the manager had greeted her by name, Emma was wrong-footed.
The man pressed a sleek black folder and two black-coloured room cards across the desk towards her. ‘Your belongings have been taken up to the suite. Would you like me to show me to your rooms, Mr Arcuri?’
‘No, thank you, I am sure that everything will be in order,’ Antonio responded, pausing only to pick up the folder and key cards before marching towards a discreet lift hidden behind steel panelling in the opposite direction from the more public elevators in the centre of the foyer.
Emma was left trailing behind, feeling once again unsettled in this environment. The excitement she had felt back in New York when she’d stayed at The Langsford was beginning to rise again. This was a glimpse of a lifestyle, experiences, that she couldn’t have imagined putting on her Living List, and she was eager to see her room.
As she came to a halt beside Antonio the question she’d felt niggling at the back of her mind had clearly become apparent.
‘Yes?’ Antonio demanded, with a return of the autocratic boss she knew he could be, who for just a moment had been absent at the stables.
‘How did he...?’
‘Know your name? I would think that, just like John, many people now know your name. After all, to all intents and purposes, you are the future Mrs Arcuri.’
Emma remembered the press articles speculating on who she was, how she had managed to capture the notorious playboy, whether she might be carrying his child. She was thankful that she had managed to get hold of both her parents to let them know what was about to happen, but hated to think of them reading all the gossip and conjecture.
The discreet lift doors opened and Antonio entered, waiting for Emma to do the same—but she couldn’t. He was in there, taking up the whole space, dominating it. Some kind of self-preservation instinct kicked in, preventing her from joining him. Until Antonio reached out a hand, caught her by the wrist and pulled her right into hell with him.
The move had startled her so much she had fallen against him, found herself pressed against the hard planes of his chest, and the physical contact drew an almost instantaneous reaction from Emma, who had been trying desperately to forget the shocking kiss that had announced their engagement to the world.
He was looking down at her, his dark hawk-like eyes watchful, almost waiting...
‘Capable of standing on your own two feet?’
Embarrassment painted her cheeks red as she disengaged her body from his. The lift was ascending with barely a jolt, and she put the flip of her stomach down to the ascent of nearly twenty floors in just seconds.
Coming to a halt, the lift opened onto a hallway with only two doors at opposite ends, and Emma slapped down her active imagination that had been expecting to walk straight out into a penthouse suite.
Not waiting for her, Antonio exited and made his way towards the door to her left. She followed, and as he swiped the key card and pressed his way forward into the suite she hovered by the door.
‘Emma?’
‘Yes? Oh, sorry. Now that you’re safely settled in, I’ll take my key and find my room,’ she said, trying to look anywhere but at where her new fiancé was standing.
His silence drew her gaze like nothing else could have. He stood there, barely a hair out of place despite the flight and the visit to the stables, his head cocked to one side, and looked at her with something in his eyes she didn’t want to name.
‘This is your room, Emma.’
Shock kept her in place, hovering outside the door to the suite. She was pretty sure her jaw had dropped.
‘That’s not going to work, Antonio.’
‘Of course it is. You’re my fiancée—where else would you be staying?’
‘Who’s to say that I’m not the kind of fiancée who believes in...in waiting for the wedding night?’
Words like sex were dangerous at the best of times, but with him...? She cursed internally. She wasn’t going to be able to do this.
‘No one—and I mean no one—would believe that I would allow my fiancée to have her own set of rooms. We’re on this path, Emma, and I will not let anything or anyone question that. This is going to have to be believable, so get used to it.’
