Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride

Anton cursed Carlo under his breath, and, much as he ached to get Emily back in bed, he could not deny her the trip. He had already taken all the eye-rolling and ribbing he could stand from his motor-sport acquaintances when he had introduced her as his wife, when Emily had quite blithely told them this was his idea of a honeymoon. ‘Yes, okay.’

Anton gritted his teeth as the roulette wheel spun again.

‘Oh, my God!’ Emily exclaimed as the white ball landed on her age, number twenty-four, on the roulette wheel. ‘I’ve won again.’

The croupier gave her a broad smile and shoved a huge stack of chips towards her, and Anton wanted to shove him in the face.

‘Yes, Emily,’ he said, stopping her hand as she went to place another bet. ‘But we have been here over three hours. The others left ages ago. You have won at least ten thousand, so don’t push your luck.’

The euphoria of his team’s win, his earlier good mood had totally evaporated and slowly he had begun to realize that Emily was delaying going back to the yacht. Trying to avoid going to bed with him. Well, not any more; she enjoyed sex with an appetite that matched his own, and he had waited long enough.

She cast him a look. ‘Have I really? That rather proves the maxim—lucky at cards, unlucky in love.’ And she gave him a brittle smile.

‘Cut out the sarcasm. Collect your chips—we are leaving.’

He was angry. She had with very little persuasion been a willing bed partner after their original argument. She had agreed to continue their marriage in a civilized manner. He could not fault her—she had been perfectly polite to their guests, if a bit sarcastic to him at times, which he could understand given her upset over her father and the honeymoon, he silently conceded. But he wasn’t a fool. Now there was definitely something else bugging her …

He was sure of it when they finally got back to their cabin and he drew her into his arms.

She tried to pull away from him, but he merely tightened his hold on her and looked down at her with smouldering eyes.

‘I have waited all night for this,’ he said, and bent his head to take her mouth. But she averted her face and his lips brushed her cheek.

‘Do you mind, Anton, but it is four in the morning and after the last few hectic days I am exhausted.’ Her eyes avoided his, and her body stiffened in his arms. ‘Plus I need to be up in a few hours—a couple of your guests are leaving early.’

‘One kiss.’ He grasped the nape of her neck and tipped back her head; she closed her eyes, and parted her lips, and he kissed her.

He kept on kissing her until she was melting in his arms. Then he lifted his head, and stared down into her flushed face. No woman manipulated him with sex, never had, never would.

‘Are you sure you are too tired?’ he drawled mockingly.

She looked at him for a long moment, and he could actually see her withdrawal, the sensuality fading from her eyes, freezing him out.

‘Yes, sorry,’ she apologized, and slipped out of his arms. ‘But don’t let me stop you. I have it on good authority there are at least two other women you have slept with on board. I’m sure one will oblige. If not you could always nip ashore and pick up a motor-racing groupie with no trouble at all.’

Anton stiffened in outrage, and for a moment he said nothing as he fought to control the fury that surged through him at her insult to his moral integrity, his dark eyes narrowing to slits as he took in her cool face.

‘That is some opinion you have of me, Emily, and in the future I might take up your generous offer,’ he drawled. ‘But first I’d like to know who fed you such lies?’

‘Well, I knew about Eloise, of course, but while you were doing your man thing with cars I overheard Sally Harding describing your incredible sexual skill in the bedroom, and pitying me because what man would be so crass as to invite, I believe her exact words were at least two of his ex-lovers on his honeymoon.’

Her explanation was delivered in such a cool, disinterested voice that Anton simply glared at her. He did not trust himself to speak—disgust and anger washing over him.

‘And you believed her?’ he finally demanded through gritted teeth.

She gave him a derisory glance. ‘The number of women you have bedded is legendary according to the press and I don’t hear you denying it.’

His reputation in the business world was first class, and he would defend it to the hilt. But he had never concerned himself with the vastly exaggerated claims the press made about the women in his life.

‘I don’t have to,’ he snapped. ‘As for Sally Harding, she is a married woman who came on to me. A woman scorned and all that.’

‘If you say so.’ She shrugged her shoulders and Anton saw the patent disbelief in her face as she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

He stepped forward, his knee-jerk reaction to go after her, convince her of the truth. Then he stopped, masculine pride coming to the fore. He had never seen the need to justify himself to a woman in his life and he was not going to start now. It smacked too much of begging …

It was another new experience for Anton. No woman had ever rejected him and apologized. Then insulted him so thoroughly that he was still having difficulty believing Emily … his wife of mere days … had casually suggested he seek out another woman for sex.

The anger he had held in check for so long engulfed him. A string of Spanish expletives rolled off his tongue, and in a mood as black as thunder he stalked out of the cabin and up on deck. He did not trust himself to be around Emily right now without losing control, and that was unthinkable …

When he had cooled down and returned Emily was curled up in bed fast asleep.

She was so innocent and so gullible, the Harding woman had probably known Emily was listening and had fed her a pack of lies. She was no match for some of the female sharks that moved in the circle of the super-rich, or for the news hounds that preyed on a man in his position.

Given his family background, he had learnt long ago that it was pointless issuing denials—it only added fuel to the flames of gossip. Any woman he was seen with was automatically labelled his latest mistress. Yet he had never actually kept a mistress in the true sense of the word. The knowledge of his mother’s not particularly happy life spent waiting for a man to visit, a second-class lover, and for her son a virtually nonexistent father, was a salutary lesson.

Sure, as a single, healthy, sexually active male, of course there had been women in his life, women he had had relationships with lasting from a few months to over a year, though he had never lived with a woman. He preferred his own space. But they were women he respected and when the inevitable parting had come, they had for the most part remained friends. In fact he could count them on his fingers, and he had only once had a one-night stand and that had been with Eloise, and a disaster. Whether Emily would believe him was questionable. But whatever her father had done to his sister, he realized, revenge and pride aside, it was up to him to reassure her. She deserved that much.

Quietly he stripped and showered, then slid into bed beside her. He looped an arm around her waist and drew her into his body. She didn’t stir and for a long time he lay with Emily enfolded in his arms. She was his … and he could set her straight in the morning, was his last arrogant thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Emily stood at Anton’s side as they waved farewell to the last of their guests, the picture of marital bliss, she thought, when nothing could be further from the truth.

She flinched as Anton’s hands cupped her shoulders and he turned her to face him. ‘So, Emily, where would you like to go? I have to be in New York next Monday, but we have a week to do what you want. We can cruise anywhere in the Mediterranean or we can go to my Greek island villa, whichever you prefer.’

She glanced up at him; his dark eyes held hers and she knew what he was thinking. She had awakened this morning wrapped in his arms, and their early morning love-making was a potent sensual memory simmering between them. No, sex session, she amended with a now familiar dull ache in the region of her heart.

Afterwards he had explained why Sally Harding had lied—apparently she had come on to him a couple of years ago and Anton had knocked her back. Her husband was a friend of his. He also told her that naturally there had been a few other women in his life. But if he had slept with the number the press accredited him with he would never have made a fortune and would have been dead from exhaustion by now. Emily had said she believed him, because lying sated beneath him she couldn’t have done much else, but she noted he never said how many! He had given her a very masculine satisfied smile and a tender, but in Emily’s opinion vaguely condescending, kiss.

It was amazing to her how a brilliantly clever, highly successful man in the business world could so completely separate the physical from the emotional when it came to his sex life.

She could not do it … But she was trapped, and not just by worry over her family. She was trapped by her helpless desire for him. It was like a fever in her blood. She had thought after what she had discovered yesterday that she was cured of her helpless response to him. But this morning he had proved her wrong.

He had awakened her with a kiss, she had tried to resist, she had hit out at him, and tried to wriggle from beneath him, but he had simply pinned her down with his great body and had the audacity to laugh at her feeble attempt to dislodge him. ‘So you want to play rough, hmm?’ he had drawled, and kissed her again, his strong hands roaming over her body, finding erogenous zones she never knew she had, until the fire in her blood overwhelmed her, and she was reaching for him … kissing him …

She knew every day she spent with him she would just fall deeper under his sensual spell. She could not resist him, and he knew it. Before she had had no idea sex could become so addictive, but she did now. She craved his touch and it filled her with shame and seriously dented her self-esteem.

Max had left earlier with the guests and, alone now apart from the crew, paradoxically the yacht seemed smaller. Spending a week with no escape from the vessel filled her with alarm. At least on land there was the possibility of walking away from Anton for a while, escaping the overwhelming physical attraction he held for her. On the yacht there was nowhere to hide …

‘I suppose home is out of the question,’ she said with an edge of sarcasm.

‘Your home is with me. Decide or I will decide for you.’

His hands tightened on her shoulders and she saw the ruthless implacability in his dark eyes. ‘In that case your villa sounds nice.’

‘Good. I will inform the captain. Unfortunately I have some work that can’t wait. Amuse yourself for a while, and try the pool.’ He drew her to him and kissed her with a possessive passion that made her senses swim and, lifting his head, he added, ‘I’ll catch you later, and that is a promise.’

By the gleam of masculine anticipation in the dark eyes that met hers she knew that was one promise he would keep.

‘Okay,’ she murmured, and watched him stride away. Probably the only promise he ever kept where women were concerned, Emily thought sadly.

Leaning over the rail, she recalled the promise he had made in church. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. She had meant every word of her vows, but she realized they had meant nothing to him—they had simply been a means to an end. As for his excuse about his ex-lovers … if they were ex, she amended, she didn’t believe him for a moment.

Anton was a man with a very high sex-drive—even she in her innocence had gathered that in the last few days. She doubted he had even noticed the difference from their wedding night, when she had loved him freely and told him so frequently, to the silent lover she had forced herself to become. If it wasn’t her he was having sex with it would be some other woman.

The thought caused her pain, and with the pain came a hint of an idea, maybe a way out …

Anton was an incredibly wealthy man, and yet by some oversight he had never suggested she sign a pre-nup. Or, more likely in his conceit, his supreme confidence in his ability to keep her sexually satisfied, and with the lavish lifestyle he offered, he probably didn’t think he needed one.

But the likelihood of him staying faithful to her or any woman wasn’t very great. Suddenly it occurred to her all she had to do was wait. He had said she could carry on with her career, and his took him all over the world. Inevitably they would spend a lot of time apart; she could make sure of it. Once, only once, would she need to discover he had been with another woman, and she could divorce him. Then take rather a lot of his money, at least enough to make sure he could never threaten her family ever again.

It was a horrible cynical idea and not like her at all, but then living with a cynic like Anton it was hardly surprising she was learning to think like him.

In fact she could take a leaf out of his book, and spend the time on his island indulging the sexual side of her nature, a side she had never known she had before. He had said it was just lust that brought a couple together, and eventually it burnt out. Well, by the end of the week, her body sated, she might finally be rid of her helpless longing for him, or at least better able to control herself.

Yes, she decided. She would do it—make the rest of her honeymoon a sensual feast even though the marriage was a fiasco.

Washed and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, Emily walked downstairs and out onto the veranda where breakfast was laid out. Anton had already eaten, by the look of it. He had left their bed to take an urgent call an hour or so ago. Where he was now, she didn’t know.

She crossed to the balustrade and stood admiring the view. The villa was set on the top of a hill that overlooked a beautiful bay; the gardens ran down in a riot of colour almost to the beach, the white sand reaching out to the deep green sea. Around the headland she knew was a small harbour and fishing village, because that was where they had docked yesterday afternoon. But here it felt as if she were the only person in the world.

A hand wrapped around her waist and settled on her stomach, urging her back into the warmth of a large male body.

‘So do you like my home?’ Anton’s deep voice rumbled against her ear.

‘Like is too tame a word—this place is like paradise.’ Or it could be under different circumstances, she silently amended.

The villa was beautiful with five bedrooms, three reception rooms, a study and a circular, elegant hall with a marble staircase. Not excessively large, but with a basement gym and games room, and fabulous terraced gardens including an infinity swimming pool. A staff of four ensured the house ran like clockwork, and a team of gardeners kept the grounds in perfect condition. The place had everything; much like the man who owned it, she thought, and inwardly sighed.

‘Good. So what do you want to do today?’

‘Explore, swim in the sea,’ she said, wriggling around in his arms, and placing her hands firmly on his chest. ‘So far I have only seen the harbour when we arrived, the house and the bedroom suite.’

‘Your wish is my command.’ He grinned, and half an hour later they were driving along a narrow road in an open-topped Jeep, Anton wearing the most disreputable pair of cut-off jeans that bordered on the indecent and nothing else, Emily with a baseball cap on her head at Anton’s insistence, her arms and legs liberally covered in sunblock.

The Jeep screeched to an abrupt halt at the harbour, Anton leapt out and before Emily could move he had reached over and lifted her to the ground.

‘First I’ll take you for the best cup of coffee in the world, but don’t tell my housekeeper I said that.’ He chuckled, and pulled out a chair for her by a rickety table outside a small café.

Immediately the owner came out, and Emily’s eyes widened in surprise as the man greeted Anton with a bear hug, and hearing Anton speaking in Greek, so obviously at home, she felt her heart squeeze a little. She was introduced to the owner, coffee was served, with small sweet-tasting cakes, and as they sat there the entire population of the village must have walked by and she was introduced to them all, old and young alike.

This was an Anton she had never seen before, laughing, chatting and totally relaxed.

‘Come.’ He reached down a hand to her. ‘Time to explore.’

They spent the day driving around the island, which actually did not take long. They lunched on bread and cheese, high up in the centre of the island as guests of a goat-herder that Anton knew, and then spent the afternoon down on a secluded beach.

Anton stepped out of his disreputable shorts, and, totally naked, persuaded her to do the same. They swam and laughed and Emily discovered it was possible to have sex in the sea. Finally they returned to the villa as the sun was setting, Emily slightly sunburnt and covered in sand, Anton looking more bronzed and fit than ever. They shared a shower, dined on the veranda and had an early night.

It was the honeymoon she had hoped for, and, even though she knew it was a sham, Emily shed all her inhibitions and enjoyed every second. She knew she would never love another man the way she had loved Anton, and with that in mind she blocked every negative thought from her brain. One week of sensual bliss was what she had promised herself, and amazingly it was.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘SO WHAT would you like to do for your last day?’ Anton asked, letting his eyes rest on Emily. She had pushed her chair back from the table, and was sitting with her long legs stretched out before her, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands, her gaze fixed on the garden and sea below.

She turned her head slightly. ‘I thought I might have a swim in the pool, and then pack.’

God! But she was stunning. She positively glowed, a golden girl in every respect. The whole population of the island adored her; she was fun and friendly to everyone. She had obviously got over their argument about her father and that stupid Harding woman. But then he had always known she would after a week in his bed, he thought complacently.

Actually, he had never spent a better week in his life. She was his perfect match, in bed and out, and more than he could ever have wished for. She was wearing a flesh-coloured bikini with a fine sarong loosely draped around her and fastened with a knot between her breasts, and he felt his body stirring even though it wasn’t long since they had indulged in the shower. Actually, for an innocent she had surprisingly seductive taste in lingerie, he realized, but then she was naturally sensuous, and so long as it was for his eyes only not a problem.

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