by Pippa Roscoe
He’ll do anything to settle the score...
...even fake an engagement!
To secure his revenge against his cruel father, billionaire Antonio Arcuri needs a fake fiancée—fast! He demands his shy PA, Emma Guilham, wear his diamond. In return, he’ll help fulfill her dreams—starting with a jet-set trip to Buenos Aires! It’s a simple charade, until the burning tension between them erupts into irresistible desire. Now Antonio must decide between vengeance and Emma...
A powerfully intense revenge romance
“You said I could have anything I wanted. Please...please don’t make me—” The word beg stuck in Emma’s throat.
She reached up, her hand cold against the hot skin of Antonio’s clenched jaw. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but she felt all the emotions swirling within him with the force of a storm. He was almost vibrating with it. Their breathing was harsh and echoed in the silence of the suite. Antonio’s eyes were a molten mixture of fury and desire, matching her own. She allowed the heat from his body to lap against hers like a tide threatening to overtake her and knock her down. Her mouth was inches away from his, but she wanted him to make that last move. She wanted it, needed it, needing him to prove that it wasn’t just her in this. That he was as weak as she in this moment.
And suddenly his lips were on hers, almost punishingly. His arm snaked around her back, holding her up against the onslaught of passion that was so much stronger than a tide.
Pippa Roscoe lives in Norfolk near her family and makes daily promises to herself that this is the day she’ll leave the computer to take a long walk in the countryside. She can’t remember a time when she wasn’t dreaming about handsome heroes and innocent heroines. Totally her mother’s fault, of course—she gave Pippa her first romance to read at the age of seven! She is inconceivably happy that she gets to share those daydreams with you all. Follow her on Twitter, @PippaRoscoe.
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Pippa Roscoe
A Ring to Take His Revenge
For my editor, Sareeta. Thank you for whipping this into shape and helping me see the way to a better book. May it be the first of many!
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THE GREEK'S BLACKMAILED MISTRESS BY LYNNE GRAHAM
PROLOGUE
London...
ANTONIO ARCURI GESTURED for the petite brunette to slide into the limousine ahead of him. He might be accustomed to ushering women he’d only just met into his chauffeur-driven town car, but not when it was business. Never when it was business.
Yet there had been no other option. His morning meeting had run unacceptably late, and now he could neither cancel this last interview for a new PA nor be late for his meeting with the other two members of the Winners’ Circle—the racing syndicate he co-owned.
Antonio had been waiting almost a year to see his closest friends Dimitri and Danyl, his brothers in more ways than blood could ever account for. So he had been forced to multi-task. And Antonio hated nothing more than having his hand forced.
So far, the brunette—Ms Guilham—had yet even to raise an eyebrow at the somewhat unusual relocation of their meeting, which boded well. The way that she struggled with the wayward hemline of her skirt as it rose up over toned, creamy thighs the moment she sat back on the plush leather seat did not. The hemline that when she was standing bordered on the overly conservative was now a sincerely unwanted distraction.
Settling into the seat beside her, Antonio studied Emma Guilham from the corner of his eye. She was petite. Beautiful, he conceded, then filed and discarded the fact. Whether a future PA of his was attractive or not was irrelevant. At least she had finally stopped fidgeting with her skirt.
The limousine pulled away from the dark underground parking area of his London office, emerged into pale wintry sunlight...and into busy central London traffic. He cursed silently and resisted the urge to glance at his watch. He knew what time it was and he was cutting it fine.
‘Your driver should take St James’s and then Pall Mall. Christmas and Regent Street don’t mix well.’
She locked her hazel eyes on his and Antonio felt a sudden start in his chest. Her gaze held no desperate eagerness to please, no fevered excitement, nor the sensual assessment he often felt when women looked at him. He knew he was attractive and took full advantage of the fact—though never with his employees.
But, most importantly, there was no pretence in her eyes. And that was both unusual and—to him—invaluable.
Compared to the three other interviewees he’d met, she was, on paper, the least impressive. At barely twenty-two, Emma Guilham was young. But while the other candidates had varied in age from late twenties to early fifties, she currently seemed the least flappable. He didn’t need to look at her CV. His quick mind recalled all the pertinent information and he proceeded with the interview for the position of his new PA.
‘You graduated with your International Business Studies degree from SOAS after attaining four A levels. You can type one hundred and twenty words per minute, you like travelling and reading,’ he stated, somewhat disconcerted to see the hazel flecks in her eyes transition into sea-green foam. ‘You are hardworking—a fact repeatedly attested to by the CFO of my London office, where you have been working full-time for the past few months, and part-time for the year before that. At the same time finishing your degree—another thing my CFO repeatedly emphasised.’
A quick nod of the head was Emma’s only reaction, which drew a frown to his forehead. Usually candidates like to expound on their virtues when he raised the opportunity to do so. He left a second, a breath of space for her to speak, but she remained silent.
‘The position is in New York. I deal in high-stakes, highly confidential business acquisition and I expect long hours, absolute focus and complete discretion. Both in business matters and personal. I am not always present in the New York office, but your presence will be required there full-time.’
‘Of course.’
He continued to watch for the smallest change in expression. She had yet to display the excitement or even the badly supressed shock and awe that he had so irritatingly witnessed through the previous interviews.
‘You don’t seem to be engaging with this interview, Ms Guilham.’ He had no patience for time-wasters. And he had no need for a ‘yes’ woman, but still. This was...unique.
‘You have yet to ask me a question, Mr Arcuri,’ she said, with no trace of accusation or offence in her tone. ‘May I speak plainly?’ she asked, and he gestured for her to do so with a swift swipe of his hand.
‘Mr Arcuri, I have attended three preliminary interviews for this position—one with UK HR, one with North American HR, and one with your previous PA. I am under no illusions as to my limited experience in comparison to more seasoned applicants, and can only conclude that your willingness to squeeze me in to your “commute” is a gracious courtesy. It is one that I appreciate.’
At this, the brunette rapped on the window to talk to the driver.
‘Left here, then second right,’ she said, before turning her gaze back to him. ‘I believe at this point your choice comes down to personality. And as far as you’re concerned, as my future boss, I don’t have one. You want someone to live and breathe Arcuri Enterprises? That I can do. You want someone to handle an international diary? I can do it with my eyes closed. You want someone to bar the way and dissolve anything that might prevent your valuable time from being spent as you wish? I’m the one you want. Anything else your background checks can uncover or you don’t need to know. I want to work for you because you’re the best. It’s that simple.’
The limousine glided to a stop outside the grand building of the Asquith Club in London just as Antonio was digesting the rather impressive and somewhat surprising speech that had filled the car.
Ms Guilham smiled, not unkindly.
Antonio felt a small smile pull at the edges of his lips in response.
‘I have one question, Ms Guilham.’
‘Yes?’
‘If you were stranded on a desert island and you were allowed one item, what would it be?’
Antonio had heard many different answers to the question over the years. Mozart’s music, the complete works of Shakespeare, a piano. But he’d only ever heard her answer once before. It was the one he had given himself.
‘A satellite phone.’
He nodded, betraying nothing.
‘Mr Arcuri, thank you for the opportunity to speak with you. I shall look forward to hearing from HR and hope that you have an enjoyable lunch. I’ll see myself back to the office.’
With that Emma Guilham left Antonio sitting in the car, feeling stunned for the first time in some while. And he wasn’t the only one, considering the way his driver was currently watching Emma’s departure with something like awe.
As Antonio exited the limousine and made his way to the private room at the Asquith where Dimitri Kyriakou and Danyl Nejem Al Arain waited, he forced his mind away from the way Ms Guilham’s hips had swayed as she’d walked towards Piccadilly Circus tube station.
With ruthless efficiency he refocused his mind on the Winners’ Circle.
The three men had met as students, and their friendship had been forged in the depths of their darkest moments. Through it all they had supported, commiserated and celebrated with each other. And when, after university, Antonio had needed capital to start his business, Dimitri, Danyl and his maternal grandfather had been his first investors. He had, of course, paid them back with interest, and in half the promised time. But he had never forgotten the debt he owed his friends.
Antonio knew in his heart, in his blood, that he wouldn’t be here today without them. And they would say the same of him. And now, after a year, all three men—each of whom regularly featured in the newspapers as some of the greatest living business figures—would finally be together in the same room again.
As he made his way towards the table in the private dining area a small blonde was hastily leaving, casting him with a frowning glance as she passed.
‘What did I miss?’ Antonio asked, taking in the appearance of his friends.
Wrongful imprisonment had taken its toll on Dimitri, yet his powerful Greek features still turned the heads of any nearby female. And Danyl didn’t need to rely on his royal status as Sheikh in line to the Terhren throne. Brooding intensity radiated from him—as Antonio’s last assistant had remarked.
Only the might of the American legal system had put a halt to their quarterly meetings—the one immovable feature in Antonio’s increasingly full diary. But within the year Dimitri’s innocence had been realised and proclaimed, and now they were finally back together again.
‘A proposition,’ Dimitri replied in response to Antonio’s question.
‘In public? During the day? Gentlemen, you’re putting my scandalous reputation to shame,’ Antonio asserted.
‘A professional proposition,’ growled Danyl through gritted teeth.
‘She—’ nodding to the exit made by the blonde woman ‘—wants to race for the syndicate in the Hanley Cup,’ Dimitri clarified.
‘We have a jockey,’ interjected Danyl.
‘She says she can win all three races.’
Antonio was mildly intrigued. ‘That’s not been done since...’
‘Since her father trained the horse and rider twenty years ago,’ supplied Dimitri.
Antonio’s mind raced through the implications. ‘That was Mason McAulty?’
A rather undignified grunt emerged from Danyl’s direction.
Antonio considered the possibilities...the amount of the winning purse, the attention from the global press. News of their racing syndicate had ebbed and flowed over the years, but no one could argue with the level of their success. Founded shortly after their university days, it had been the perfect venture for three men who loved the high-stakes world of gambling, horseflesh and adrenaline.
Antonio had once been a serious contender for international-level polo, but that had been before Michael Steele’s actions had all but destroyed his family. Biting back the familiar anger that was never far away from his thoughts of the man, Antonio forced his attention back to the proposition.
‘Can she do it?’ he asked.
Dimitri shrugged, but Danyl seemed to be giving it some thought.
‘Most likely,’ he eventually said.
‘I’m in,’ Antonio stated with an innately Italian shrug of his shoulders. If Mason McAulty managed it, the win would be incredible. If she failed... Well, was there any such thing as bad press? Antonio liked the edge that it would place them on. Hell, he practically lived on it.
‘Why not?’ Dimitri said, throwing his hat into the ring.
Danyl nodded almost reluctantly, his lips a grim line of determination. Antonio might not know the source of the furious look Danyl cast towards the exit Mason Mcaulty had left through, but he very much hoped she knew that she was playing with fire.
‘Whisky?’ Dimitri queried as Antonio finally took his seat.
‘Absolutely,’ Antonio replied, relaxing back and drinking in the sight of his friends. ‘It’s good to have you back.’
‘Say that again and I’ll know you’ve gone soft,’ came Dimitri’s terse reply.
‘If I wanted to listen to a bunch of women gossip, I could have stayed at home and visited the harem,’ Danyl concluded.
Antonio scoffed. ‘You don’t have a harem. If you did we’d never see you.’
But instead of relishing the familiar bond he had with his two closest friends, Antonio found his mind returning to the woman he had just decided to make his new PA.
Emma Guilham...
CHAPTER ONE
Eighteen months later...
EMMA SWEPT THE long tendrils of dark hair back from her face and into a discreet neat bun with swift efficiency. Even had she not seen Antonio Arcuri’s occasional frown when a few strands would escape the hold these pins had on her hair, she instinctively knew that this was what her ruthless boss wanted from her. Discretion, speed and efficiency.
As she checked her appearance in the ladies’ bathroom at the New York office of Arcuri Enterprises, the shadowed silver insignia of the letters A and E conjoined in the corner of each large mirror snagged her attention and sent a thrill of satisfaction through her.
She had come so far from her mother’s small but comfortable home on the fringes of Hampstead Heath. She thought back to the quite outrageous way she had been interviewed by Antonio in that limousine, inching its way through London’s Christmas traffic. She had, in her mind, been brazen. But then Emma had honestly thought that she stood no chance of getting the job. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, she had simply spoken the truth.
She had meant every word she’d said, and had stu
ck to each and every one of them in the last eighteen months. She had fought so hard to be here—to be in New York, to be Antonio Arcuri’s PA. And she wouldn’t let his wholly uncharacteristic, unscheduled and increasingly imminent arrival now put her off her stride.
Ever since the ping had sounded on her phone at one in the morning, alerting her to the fact that Antonio would be back from Italy and in the office in less than six hours, Emma had felt something akin to panic. Only she had assured herself she no longer did panic. Instead, Emma had launched herself out of bed, scanned his appointments and found nothing in his diary to warrant such an unexpected return. So, she had no idea what to expect from her brooding Italian boss.
She had begun to look forward to the times when Antonio was away from the office. Whether it was for his immovable meetings with the other members of the Winners’ Circle syndicate, or his visits to his offices in London, Hong Kong and Italy, she relished the time when she only had to deal with him through the separation of email and the occasional video conference. She welcomed these reprieves from his presence. Because in reality, in the flesh, Antonio was simply...overwhelming.
It was more than his classic good-looks. His bitter-chocolate-coloured eyes, set against defined cheekbones and a determined jaw would be devastating enough on any man. Along with the smooth Italian tan that contrasted with the deep rich wine colour of lips that were almost cruelly sensual. Every inch of him was honed, powerful and predatory. But she knew that even all those attributes combined didn’t matter. It was the vitality—the authority that resonated from his very being—that really called to her.
But she had learned to temper her attraction. Refused to allow it to interfere with her work. She was here to do a job—not to lust after her attractive boss. She refused to fall into the trap so many other women had fallen into. Besides, she had goals—places she wanted to see, things she desperately wanted to do—none of which included Antonio Arcuri.
The door to the large office bathroom slammed open and a string of women rushed in, each armed to the hilt with make-up bags. Emma watched them for a moment, producing the tools of femininity that were used to enhance and seduce, delicately applying a million products as she once had, at the age of seventeen, using them with a heavy hand to mask the ravages of chemotherapy.
