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But she wouldn’t.
She had always found Antonio powerfully attractive. Had always felt prickles of awareness when he was nearby. He was as tempting as the devil.
Those gold flecks had returned to his eyes, surfing the waves of molten chocolate that seemed to radiate...heat. And desire. It became a tangible thing, and she could almost taste it on the air. She felt every single inch of her skin where the silk robe rested against it, felt the smooth material of the sofa beneath her calf muscle. She felt the space between them that seemed at once so small, yet almost insurmountable.
She willed her breath to become silent, knowing that she couldn’t give in to the temptation burning between them, reluctant to let sound or action break this strange hold.
But sanity prevailed. Yes, she’d seen more to her handsome boss than she could have imagined. The grief and pain of his childhood had called to something within her. But she couldn’t get involved with him. Because for all his promises she couldn’t rely on anyone if the worst was to happen. Because it never lasted. Not really. People left, people changed, people wanted other things... And in the end the only person Emma could rely upon was herself.
She looked about the room, finally severing the connection that had formed between them. And then, lifting up a stack of papers, she asked him about Bartlett—a line of questioning that Antonio seemed equally relieved to take up.
‘Bartlett’s company is a fourth generation, family-owned heritage business and—’
‘No, I didn’t mean his company. Who is he? What makes him tick?’
Antonio paused for a moment, as if he honestly hadn’t given it much consideration. He picked up the files and she shook her head, a gentle laugh falling from her lips.
‘Antonio...’ She couldn’t help chuckling as she gently reprimanded him. ‘He is the father of two children, Mandy and James, both are at university, both studying business. Mandy, by the way, certainly seems to be enjoying it thoroughly from her Instagram account—’
‘You follow her Instagram account?’
‘Yes, you asked me to research Bartlett, so I did.’
He nodded, as if slightly surprised. ‘How did you get all this?’
‘Bartlett’s PA—Anna—used to work for someone who does a lot of business with the boss of your London office. We know each other quite well. She helped with some of the information, but she wouldn’t cross any lines. Perhaps you should take a look at the notes in the blue folder. They’re a bit more personal than business facts.’
But the word personal brought back memories of the earlier moment they had shared.
Realising that she had lost his concentration, Emma felt a wave of tiredness sweep over her, and as Antonio took up several of the documents in the blue folder she decided to leave him to it and return to her room. This time hoping not to avoid her nightmares but dreams of her handsome boss.
CHAPTER SIX
THE NEXT DAY, by the time Antonio returned to the suite, he was physically exhausted. He’d been down to the stables to see John and V, but John had practically thrown him out because his ‘state of mind’ was affecting the horses. So he’d spent two hours in the gym, pushing himself hard.
Anything to force his shockingly one-track mind away from Emma Guilham and back to the meeting they had with Bartlett in a little over an hour. He had tried to pretend that the intimacy they’d shared the night before didn’t mean anything. He’d tried to ignore the strands of desire that had woven between them before she had shifted the subject away from the personal and back on to Bartlett. But he hadn’t quite managed to achieve it.
John was right. Antonio had to get his mind in order—had to shelve these thoughts and put them back in the box he never opened. He needed to get Bartlett to choose him, because if he didn’t his father would go unchecked. Michael Steele would live his life without ever feeling what his mother felt...his sister felt. The painful sting of humiliation, the acute devastation when everything changed beyond recognition...the realisation that the very fabric of life could not be trusted.
And Antonio needed that—needed Michael to feel that.
He walked into his room and pulled his sweat-soaked T-shirt over his head, discarding it as he crossed into the bathroom. Turning on the scalding hot spray of water, he pushed the rest of his clothes from his body and tried very hard not to imagine Emma doing the same. Before she covered that irresistible body in the dress he’d bought for her that morning.
He hadn’t been able to help himself. The clothing she’d purchased on their first day in Buenos Aires was perfectly adequate. But he didn’t want ‘adequate’ for her. After last night, he wanted to see her in colours. Because that was what he had seen when she had talked about her experience with cancer.
He didn’t want her to hide her figure behind the blacks and whites she usually wore. He could only guess that she hadn’t quite come to accept her body. She hadn’t said as much, but he had read between the lines. And he knew exactly how damaging that could be to a woman. To anyone.
And it was a crime—because Emma was simply
stunning. So that morning, when he’d been out buying the last thing that would make this ‘engagement’ seem real, he’d passed a shop window and stopped in his tracks, realising at once that the dress on the mannequin was perfect.
The moment he’d seen it Antonio had wondered what Emma’s curves would look like beneath the material—what the silk would reveal or conceal, what sound would it make running across her satin-smooth skin. How the colour would look against the pale cream tones of her bare arms...
The rush of his thoughts sent his body’s blood south, shockingly fast, and Antonio gritted his teeth in an effort to keep himself under control and switched the shower from hot to icy cold.
And he knew—knew with one hundred per cent clarity—that he could not treat Emma with the same detachment that he used to handle the other women in his life. She wasn’t like the women he usually took to bed. The ones who knew that he wouldn’t offer them anything more.
He could no longer fool himself that it was because he was putting off anything deeper until after he had brought his father to his knees. He was self-aware enough to know that he didn’t trust something as dangerous as love. It was a tool used by those more powerful, wielded to hurt, to harm.
