by Joss Wood
Matt felt Emily’s foot run up the back of his calf, felt her hands on his back, on his butt. She, thank God, wanted him back. This time, he wouldn’t hesitate; this time, he’d do everything to her that he couldn’t do all those years ago.
He’d start by kissing her from tip to toe...
Matt pulled his mouth off hers and started the exploration of her face, nibbling the fine line of her jaw, tasting the skin on those cut-glass cheekbones. Her nose was straight and just a little haughty...
It took a minute, maybe more for him to realize that Emily was a stiff board in his arms, that her hands were on his chest, trying to push him, not very emphatically, away. Matt groaned, blinked and tried to get his eyes to focus on her face.
If she wanted to stop, he might just drop to the floor and howl.
“Velez! Stop!”
Yep, crap, she wanted to stop. Matt cursed silently and allowed her to slide down his body, swallowing his moan of frustration. He lifted his hands off her and stepped away. It nearly killed him but that’s what grown men did. He might not have any honor when it came to poaching on Morris’s territory but when a woman said no, he listened.
Emily made a fist, put it to her mouth and Matt caught the terror in her eyes, the waves of blue-and-purple panic.
“What the hell am I doing?” Emily whispered and, while her words were low, he caught her fear. “This is madness.”
Matt’s protective instincts kicked in and he took a step toward her, cursing when she scuttled backward, her hands up to ward him off.
“Em, Jesus, what is going on with you?”
“Nothing, I keep telling you that!” Emily said, pointing to her front door. “I just need you to leave. Now. Immediately.”
Matt thought about arguing but Em had not only physically retreated, she’d pulled back mentally, as well. There was nothing he could say or do to recapture the magic of their kiss, to put her back in his arms.
Matt jammed his hands into the pockets of his chinos, hoping his expression didn’t reveal his frustration. Emily Arnott was less of a pushover and more stubborn—and more loyal, a quality Morris did not deserve!—than he expected.
He rather liked that.
But, under his envy and his lust, his gut instinct was screaming that there was something fishy about their engagement and he was the only one who realized it. He’d allow her to think that he was minding his own business, walking away, but he’d be back.
Sometimes, the only way to gain ground was to retreat.
* * *
The next morning, in her corner office at Arnott’s Wealth Management, Emily stared at her computer screen, the numbers and letters blurring in front of her eyes. As the company’s operations manager, she needed to stay sharp, but she was operating on less than three hours of sleep. She’d also spent the bulk of last night staring at her ceiling, her thoughts bouncing between how to save herself from becoming a trophy wife and how good she felt standing in Matt’s arms, how wonderful it was to be kissed by him.
Why she was thinking about Matt Velez when her entire life was falling apart at the seams, God only knew.
Emily dropped her forehead to her sleek desk and banged her head against the smooth surface. So Matt kissed her, big deal. Or it would’ve been, two weeks or so ago. But really, since she was being blackmailed into marriage, she shouldn’t be thinking about his dark eyes or his soft lips, the muscled body under those designer suits and his sexy scent.
Velez wasn’t important; saving Arnott’s reputation and, obviously, getting out of her engagement was.
Emily sat up and spun her chair around to face the window behind her. While it was still, technically, summer, there was a slight chill in the air and hints of fall in the changing color of the trees. Fall was her favorite season and she usually took a week’s vacation after Labor Day. This year she’d planned to fly down to Grand Cayman to spend a week in a friend’s cottage overlooking a private beach. She’d planned to lie in the sun, read a dozen books, catch fish and cook them over an open fire. Drink wine.
Chill.
Well, those plans had been blown out of the water.
She couldn’t go anywhere, do anything until she dis-engaged herself and protected the company bearing her name.
Telling anybody, other than Gina, about Nico’s blackmail scheme was out of the question. She couldn’t even take the problem to her dad. Oh, she’d told him she was engaged, but Leonard had barely reacted—had he actually not heard her or did he simply not care? Davy wouldn’t understand the implications of her actions and, as for her mom, well, she’d rather walk through a field of Christ’s-thorn than tell her mom anything...
And, Lord, what was Nico thinking? This wasn’t the eighteen hundreds when a man’s standing was improved by marriage; these days you lived and died by your own choices. Sure, she came from a good family, and the Arnotts were one of the first families to settle in Falling Brook. And yeah, back when her dad liked people and before her mom left, Leonard was the unofficial mayor of the town, her mom one of its most popular hostesses.
But those halcyon days were gone, her dad was wrapped up in business and the little time he spent outside of work was spent either with Davy or in his home gym.
Her mom wasn’t the only one who’d abandoned her. Her mom physically disappeared but while her dad was physically present—working in his office down the hallway—he was as mentally absent as her mother.
She’d finally learned to be independent and self-sufficient, to rely on herself and to trust her decisions. But Em sometimes wished she had someone to rely on, someone who she could talk to and who understood the issues around her father’s emotional distance and her brother’s special needs.
While she loved her independence, occasionally she got really tired of being a tribe of one. But being lonely was still better than being constantly disappointed by people for wanting and expecting more than they could give her. Still, she craved a strong father and a mother who could remember her name.
Love...why did people constantly look for it?
She’d veered off her original thought...why was Nico so determined to have her that he’d resorted to blackmail? And, admittedly, his threat was a good one. They had some run-of-the-mill clients but they also worked in a niche market—looking after the financial needs of vulnerable adults—and Arnott’s reputation meant everything to them. One whiff of scandal would have their clients running for the hills.
Nico told her that their marriage would bring him more clients, better opportunities, but Emily knew he was overestimating her importance in the small, wealthy community of Falling Brook.
And, while she desperately wanted to, she didn’t believe him when he said that he wasn’t in a rush to sleep with her. He touched her too frequently—a stroke down her arm, a hand low on her back, almost touching her butt—and she saw the desire in his eyes.
He was smart enough not to push her, to scare her more than she already was, but Em knew he wanted her—in his bed, as his wife, to make him look better by marrying into one of the “famous” families of Falling Brook—and he was desperate enough to blackmail her.
Emily abruptly stood up, frustrated. She had to figure out how to paralyze Nico, without endangering the company. Gina was looking for gossip, reaching out to her contacts for anything she could use but so far, she’d come up with nothing.
There had to be more she could do. Thanks to her big blue eyes and long blond hair and the stereotype associated with women who looked like her, few people realized Emily had a sharp brain behind her pretty face. What she really needed to do was to push Nico into a corner, to shut down his options. She needed information on Nico of greater or equal importance to what he had on her. It was imperative that she put him in a similar situation as he’d shoved her into, one where he was equally at risk.
But that meant pretending to be his fiancée while digg
ing up damaging information on him. Emily leaned her shoulder into the window, scowling down at the busy road below her. Her only advantage was that Nico thought she was a little dim and naive and docile.
She wasn’t. And she wasn’t the type to go down without a damn good fight.
* * *
In his office in Midtown Manhattan, Matt threw his pen onto the desk and gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, wishing he could squeeze a certain blonde out of his head.
He’d been up since four, checking the Asian markets, moving millions around with the touch of his mouse, the tap of his keyboard. As CEO, he wasn’t expected to work the markets but he liked to keep his hand in so he still managed the portfolios of a handful of carefully selected clients. In six hours, he’d traded more than fifty million USD, making a small profit on both his own and his clients’ money. On good days, trading was the best job in the world and a massive profit in one session could keep a smile on his face for hours. It could also be, on bad days, the equivalent of riding through hell, naked, sitting on the shell of a superslow snail. On days that trades went against him, resulting in a significant loss, he frequently prayed for his heart to stop so he didn’t have to hear the blood rushing through his system, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the cramping of his stomach.
This morning was a so-so day, minor profits, acceptable losses, resulting in a net profit of a couple of percent. Not his best day but also not his worst. Considering that thoughts of a violet-eyed blonde kept strolling through his brain, he’d done okay.
Luckily.
Reaching behind him, Matt snagged a bottle of water out of the bar fridge concealed behind a cupboard door and eyed his computer, thinking that he needed to review some reports and make a start on the next quarter’s growth projections. Trading was fun but he needed to get down to the real work of managing MJR and, most days, he loved it.
And he would, in a minute. Matt leaned back in his chair, cracked the top to his water bottle and silently cursed when his mind went back to Emily. What was she up to today?
Before he could wander too far down that unproductive path, Matt heard the rap of knuckles on the frame of his office door and looked up when his senior trader, who also happened to be one of his best friends, strolled through the open door to his office.
Malcolm plopped himself down in the chair opposite Matt and linked his fingers on his flat stomach. “Good day?”
Matt rocked his hand from side to side. “Okay-ish. You?”
“Some losses this morning. I’m about to dive in again in twenty minutes,” Mal replied.
Matt tossed Malcolm a bottle of water before lifting his own bottle to his lips. The reports could wait. “I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows at Matt’s statement. Matt couldn’t blame him. He was well-known for working longer hours than everyone at the company and was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. “Problem?”
Only a blonde I can’t dismiss from my head. Irritation prickled and burned. He was always super focused and it annoyed him that Emily Arnott hovered on the edge of his thoughts for most of the morning.
Two main thoughts kept running through his mind: how good she felt in his arms and how wrong her engagement to Nico Morris was. If she was any other woman, he would’ve had her in his bed and out of his mind by now.
And she would’ve left with a smile on her face and a please call me soon.
And yes, maybe that did make him sound like a player, but he never made promises he had no intention of keeping. His lovers knew the score...
But Emily kept tipping his world upside down. He wanted to dismiss her, to walk away from this stupid situation, but his mind—or his ego or his pride, or all three bastards working in tandem—just wouldn’t let her go. He couldn’t walk, not just yet, not until he knew what it was like to make love to her.
Her hold on him pissed him off.
Matt’s PA sailed into his office, looking as imperious as a Russian queen. Vee was Matt’s right-hand person, someone he trusted more than most. She was also deadly efficient, irascible, abrupt and had few social skills.
Vee had a computer science degree, was a dedicated gamer and occasional hacker, and Matt had no idea why, with her skills, she worked as his PA and office manager.
Vee looked at Malcolm over the top rim of her glasses. “Don’t you have work to do, Mr. King?”
Oh, and she also thought that she ran MJR Investing.
Malcolm, not in the least bit intimated, sent her a lazy grin. “Not right now, Miss Vee.”
Vee turned her sharp gaze on Matt. “I see you are also slacking off, Mr. Velez.”
Vee, despite only being in her late thirties, had the disposition of a Victorian butler and the work ethic, and personality, of a fire ant. Matt adored her.
“I’ve been at it since four this morning, Vee. Cut me some slack,” Matt replied.
Vee sniffed her disapproval. “Never. If I do, this place will fall apart.”
Matt rolled his eyes at Malcolm, an action that was rewarded by a dirty look and a purse of ruby-red lips.
“Your messages.” Vee slapped a pile of carefully printed slips on his desk. A heavy file landed next to his computer. “Turnover and expense reports.”
Malcolm rose, shot him an amused grin and ambled to the door. As he passed through it, Vee ordered him to close it, which he did. Matt, wondering why his PA was being extra bossy, leaned back in his chair and waited for her to speak. Vee was never shy about saying what was on her mind.
“I heard you are talking to Joshua Lowell at Black Crescent.”
Matt winced. His potential career move was supposed to be highly confidential but Vee had even better sources in Falling Brook than he did, was far too interested in his life and frequently knew what he was going to eat for dinner before he did. He’d tried to tell her that his personal life was just that, personal, but Vee had just ignored him and deep-dived into his life. A part of Matt rather liked how much she cared; God knew his parents didn’t. Never had.
Juan got all of that attention...
“I have no plans to go anywhere, Vee, not yet anyway. I’m just using a potential move to Black Crescent as a bargaining chip with the board.” Matt lifted one shoulder. “Unless Black Crescent makes me an offer I simply can’t refuse.”
“Wherever you go, I go,” Vee stated, her tone brooking no argument.
That was a given. Vee was his right hand. And his left. “Maybe,” he said, just to tease her.
Vee’s bottom lip wobbled, just for a second, and Matt felt guilty. “I’m joking, Vee, of course I’d take you with me,” he said, hurrying to reassure her. Vee was a cactus, prickly as hell on the outside with a squishy, easily hurt center.
Vee blinked and dipped her head in a sharp nod. “That’s settled then.”
“Don’t give me grief but I was thinking about taking the rest of the day off,” Matt said, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I have a birthday present to buy.”
Vee’s birthday was next week and he saw the pleasure flash in her eyes. He’d already approved her birthday bonus but he wanted to buy her something special, something that wasn’t company related. Vee loved orchids, so he’d ordered a new variety via Falling Brook’s nursery and had received word that it had arrived. But Vee would have to receive her birthday present early because houseplants came to him to die.
Vee placed her hand on her heart and sent him a sweet smile. It wasn’t one he saw on her face very often, reminding Matt that she needed him as much as he needed her. “Have a good day, Matteo. Is there anything else you need me to do for you?”
Matt rubbed the back of his neck as Emily’s gorgeous face drifted through his mind. Maybe Vee knew something he didn’t about the Morris/Arnott engagement. But if he asked, his supersharp assistant
would immediately sense he was thinking about a woman.
“Do we have any business ties to Arnott’s in Falling Brook?” Matt asked, wondering why the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. A link between Arnott’s and MJR could be exploited to get closer to Emily and what he really wanted, which was her, naked, under him.
Vee, used to his rapid changes of subject, thought for a minute. “Not that I can think of. Of course, every year Emily Arnott asks everyone and anyone who’s even vaguely connected to Falling Brook for donations to Brook Village. She also asks for volunteers to join her fundraising committee for the same organization, whatever it may be.”
“It’s the residential home where her brother lives,” Matt explained.
“From the tone of her letter, I thought it was the standard request for time and money. As far as I know, although a few of our clients come from Falling Brook, nobody from MJR has ever volunteered to sit on her committee,” Vee added.
Sitting on committees wasn’t something he did, but he couldn’t keep rocking up unannounced on Emily’s doorstep, and if joining her cause got him what he wanted—Emily—he’d suck it up. He needed an excuse to put himself in her orbit. And this was as good a one as any. “When did that request to sit on the fundraising committee come in?”
Vee sent him a what-are-you-up-to look. “Within the last few weeks. If I remember correctly, the first committee meeting is happening this evening, in the boardroom at Arnott’s.”
“Time?”
“Six p.m.” Vee folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. “What’s going on, Matteo?”
Matt grinned. “A little volunteering is good for the soul, Vee.”
“And I’d agree if that was your primary motive,” Vee replied, not buying his explanation and not, in any way, impressed with his show of altruism. “Just remember the old saying, Matt...no good deed goes unpunished.”
