by Pippa Roscoe
Antonio’s phone started to vibrate noisily.
‘I’m going to put it on speaker,’ he said, leaving the phone to jerk around on the table between them, as if this wasn’t the one phone call he’d been waiting a week to receive. ‘I’d like your opinion on Bartlett, given your research.’
She nodded, and he finally accepted the call.
‘Mr Arcuri?’ Bartlett’s assistant was on the line.
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Bartlett for you. Hold, please.’
The line went silent for a moment.
‘Arcuri! I hear congratulations are in order...’
Antonio froze at the American’s cultured tones; for a second they had sounded so much like his father’s. He muted the call momentarily, cleared his throat and then resumed the call, cursing at the fact that Emma had witnessed this errant chink in his defences.
‘Thank you, Mr Bartlett, your congratulations are very welcome.’
‘Am I to presume that your insistence to speak to me is down to the fact that you have uncovered the news that I am looking for investment?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I would love to know your source. I was under the impression that it was a highly guarded secret.’
‘A gentleman does not kiss and tell, Mr Bartlett.’
‘I would hope that you have been kissing no one other than your fiancée, Mr Arcuri.’
‘I assure you that is most definitely the case,’ he said, trying to ignore the way Emma was watching him. ‘As to how this information was uncovered—I assure you that it was not from any party related to your business.’
Antonio knew there was enough weight in his tone to indicate that the leak had come from the only other person involved in the negotiations. His father. It was exactly as Antonio had intended.
‘I must say I am surprised,’ Bartlett pressed, refusing to rise to the bait, ‘that a man such as yourself—a man with a reputation for ruthlessness—would want to invest in my business.’
‘You have a quite remarkable heritage brand, Mr Bartlett, one that any investor would be lucky to be involved with. And ever since I began my relationship with Emma I have been motivated to make more...holistic business decisions.’
‘Your relationship is quite recent?’
‘Emma has been with me for eighteen months, and during that time I have come to realise what a wonderful woman she is,’ he said, this time unable not to look at the woman in question—unable to take his eyes from the faint blush that rose to her cheeks. ‘She is kind, caring and compassionate, Mr Bartlett, and I am sure you will discover that yourself, should you choose to meet in Buenos Aires and discuss things further.’
There was a pause on the line.
‘As you are aware that I am looking for investment, I am sure you are also aware that your father is the only other petitioner in the matter?’
‘Surely whether I am aware or not is incidental? Having two people determined to win investment into your company can only be a good thing for you.’
‘I appreciate that, Mr Arcuri, but I refuse to allow this to turn into a circus. I have my reasons for wanting to keep this investment opportunity quiet, and if I am to meet with you in Buenos Aires then I want your assurance that it will remain the case.’
‘I promise you, Mr Bartlett, that no one will hear about this matter from me, or anyone connected with me.’
‘Good. Then I look forward to meeting both you and Ms Guilham in Argentina. But I warn you, Antonio, your father’s offer is good. You’ll have to do something pretty spectacular to rival it.’
Antonio let Bartlett’s warning settle in his mind as he finished the call. He gathered his thoughts, and was curious as to what Emma had taken away from the conversation.
‘So...?’
‘I think you are going to have to work hard to win his approval,’ she replied grimly.
Bartlett’s warning was irrelevant, he told himself. Antonio had waited sixteen years for this. Sixteen years to take his father down for destroying his home and his family.
He would do whatever it took to ensure it.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMMA WAS ROUSED from her sleep as the limousine pulled up to The Excelsus hotel in Buenos Aires and she wished she had managed to stay awake. The view from the plane as it had descended into Argentina had promised a stunning and wonderful place that she’d only ever had an internet connection to. Having booked Antonio’s travel itinerary there a number of times, Emma had been eager to see it for herself.
She’d been captivated by the tall, gleaming structures that reached into the sky, surrounded by a harbour of sand and sea, with twinkling with promise and excitement in the morning light, and she was sad that she had slept through the journey the waiting limousine had taken once they had made their way through the sleek airport hallways.
As she got out of the car, surprising both the driver and Antonio—clearly she had been expected to wait for the door to be opened for her—she was hit by an almost cold wind, the kind that she had come to expect from an English autumn. Remembering that Argentina’s coldest winter months took place during June and August, the slight chill in the air made Emma nostalgic for home.
When Antonio failed to emerge from the car, she turned back to catch his gaze through the open door.
‘I’m going on to the stables. You can go on in and rest up in our rooms if you like.’
But Emma didn’t want to go to the hotel. She wanted to see Buenos Aires—wanted to see the grand entrance to the race course and the small lakes she had only seen in internet pictures.
‘I’d like to see the stables,’ she said, but the slight delay in the careless shrug of his response made her realise that she was imposing. That he might want this time to himself.
‘By all means,’ he said, gesturing her to return to the car.
She got back into the warm interior, thankful for the heat that softened the surprising chill still stinging her arms. The fresh air had wiped away the jetlag she hadn’t so far been aware of. Having stayed awake during most of the flight, she had effectively worked through the night and arrived in Argentina late morning, with only two hours’ time difference.
She settled back into the plush leather seat, desperately trying to ignore the proximity to her boss that shouldn’t be affecting her the way it did.
Antonio’s fierce gaze was locked on the scene outside the window, as if he was actively trying to ignore her presence. But he had agreed that she could accompany him to the stables, and Antonio was not a man who would have agreed had he really not wanted her there, she assured herself.
The car took a sweeping loop away from The Excelsus, and Emma was slightly disappointed to find that it pulled up again only a short while later. The stables were housed directly beside the hotel, and she vaguely remembered that being the reason Antonio preferred to stay there.
This time she waited for the driver to open her door, and a half relieved, half satisfied look crossed the man’s features. She thanked him and then stood up to take in the incredible view as he went to open Antonio’s door.
The grounds of the racetrack were long and rectangular, flat and surrounded by thin fencing. Off to the left the impressive stretch of the hotel building loomed over the edges of the race course, with thin lines of aqua-blue hinting at the infinity pools that were boasted by the hotel. In her mind she filled in the hundreds and thousands of people who would cover the stands and the balconies on race day, and the incredible noise they must make.
She heard the slam of the car door behind her, and turned to see Antonio stalking off towards a group of large white buildings with terracotta-coloured roofs that reminded her oddly of the American stables she had seen amongst the Winners’ Circle holdings. She followed him through the fenced-off area, where there were more signs of life, people and horses emerging from corners and
shadows as if they had previously been hidden from view.
She was two steps behind Antonio as he went deeper and deeper into the large central building.
To call it a barn would be wrong. The sheer size of it could have enveloped the whole apartment block she lived in back in Brooklyn. This structure had sleek lines, all glistening steel and chrome, and the expansive concrete floor was spotless and wet from where a young teenager further down was cleaning it. The smell of horse sweat and manure was barely discernible, and the only sound she could make out aside from Antonio’s leather-soled footsteps was a hushed conversation coming from one of the stalls.
* * *
Antonio was so conscious of Emma’s presence he almost missed the broad sound of John’s northern English accent coming from the stalls where Veranchetti was currently housed. At sixteen and a half hands, the horse was glorious. Its black coat gleamed in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the window at the back of the stall.
As he neared, the voices became more distinct, and the feminine lilt of an Australian accent came to a halt.
‘Antonio?’ John’s voice called out from inside. ‘That you? Reckoned you’d have swung by before now.’
Only John could make the reproach sound like a greeting. Antonio caught Mason’s eye as she made her way out of the stall. A brief nod was all she threw at him before heading off out of the building.
‘How are you?’ John asked, coming out from the stable.
‘Good, John. I’m good.’
‘I’ll say,’ John observed, watching as Emma stayed just behind Antonio. ‘I take it this is the lass, then?’
Antonio felt himself on unsteady ground as he suddenly realised that he had failed to take into account yet another person he now had to add to his list of deception. John was the only member of his father’s staff he’d stayed in contact with after he, his mother and sister had been forced to return to Italy.
It was a contact that he and the other members of the Winners’ Circle syndicate had very much used to their advantage.
‘Must say, I would’ve thought I’d not have to hear about it on Twitter.’
‘Since when are you on Twitter?’ Antonio asked, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. ‘John—allow me to introduce you to Emma Guilham, my fiancée.’ The word felt strange on his tongue.
Emma came forward, having hesitated only slightly when he’d said fiancée. ‘Nice to meet you, John,’ she said warmly, reaching out to shake his hand.
‘Oh, no, lass, I’m all mucky,’ he said, wiping straw and mud onto his already dirty jeans.
‘Don’t be silly. I’d hardly be a match for Antonio Arcuri if I was worried about a little dirt.’
John let out a bark of laughter, shook Emma’s hand and turned to Antonio, his eyes approving. ‘I’m going to like her. First one I’ve met of yours—and the last, by all accounts.’
Something like guilt threatened to spark in Antonio’s gut, but Antonio pushed it aside. Dio, he couldn’t let her anywhere near his sister Cici. His sister would be broken-hearted when it all came to nothing.
‘How’s V?’ he asked, swiftly changing the focus of the conversation.
‘Veranchetti,’ replied John, ‘is doing fine. Survived the trip over and has been acclimatising for a good while now.’
‘And McAulty?’ Antonio asked.
From what he’d heard in the last eighteen months she’d been doing everything she’d said she would—living and breathing the horses from the Winners’ Circle stable. John had been giving him, Dimitri and Danyl weekly reports, and had voiced his positive opinion and utter confidence in her on more than one occasion.
‘She’ll do.’
It was about as high a seal of approval as John would ever give. And, from the way he was looking at Emma, it seemed to be covering both of the women who had unexpectedly entered Antonio’s life in very different ways.
Antonio had felt the calm of being inside a stable settle over him from the moment he’d come out of the wintry sun and moved into the shadows. But it was an odd calm. It always had been. The kind of calm that happened before a storm was about to hit and change everything.
He wondered if it was like Pavlov’s dog—if in some way he’d always feel like this in a stable. It was the one place where he’d repeatedly sought refuge when things at home had got too much. When he’d wanted to take the first horse he saw and ride like hell away from his home, his father and all that entailed. It was the kind of calm that anticipated adrenalin...anticipated action and adventure.
It was the kind of calm he hadn’t felt since being forced away from his home, his horses, and his once possible career as an international polo player.
As if John sensed the dark memories taking hold of Antonio, he led them from the quiet peace of the stable back out into the sunlight.
‘Were the overnighters okay?’ Antonio asked. It would have taken them a long time to get from America to Argentina, with several stops along the way.
‘Yep—paperwork was all in place, and everything went well. You might want to check in with the folks from the Hanley Cup. They’ve got some things for you to sign.’ John indicated over his shoulder to where there was a small office hidden amongst the larger buildings.
Antonio nodded his head, willingly taking the proffered escape from the stables and the threatening memories of his past.
* * *
Emma didn’t know what she’d expected from the stables, but it hadn’t been John. In the eighteen months she’d worked for Antonio she’d never had anything to do with the Winners’ Circle. He’d handled all that himself. Oh, she’d been curious—but never enough to intrude on Antonio’s personal endeavours.
John had watched Antonio walk off towards the office and now turned his attention back to her.
‘I’ve known that one for a long time, Emma.’
‘Is this the bit where you warn me off?’ she said, half joking and half afraid of what he might say.
‘No, lass. Reckon you know what you’re getting yourself into. But that boy...he’s just like a natural-born mustang. Wild and ready to bolt at any moment.’
Emma wanted John to stop. She was struggling enough to maintain the image of Antonio as her boss and now her fiancée. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see him as the boy he’d once been.
‘His da,’ John continued, ‘he were a hard man—no doubt. And he all but broke that boy. You’ve got him this far, Emma. Hold on to him. Even if he tries to bolt. He’s worth it, lass.’
She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell him the truth. That this engagement of—what?—less than twenty-four hours?—was just for show. Just for a business deal. The sincerity ringing from John’s voice was irrefutable.
She smiled, knowing that she couldn’t do anything but keep up the façade and not break an old man’s heart. ‘I’ll do that, John. Or I’ll try,’ she said on a laugh, to lighten the tone.
To change the subject, she nodded back towards the stable.
‘Is Veranchetti the horse Mason’s going to ride in the Hanley Cup? I’m afraid I don’t know much about it,’ she said ruefully.
‘Yup. They’ve got good a chance, I reckon.’
‘It’s an odd name—though I suppose they all have odd names.’
‘Cici—his sister—named him after the hero of one of her favourite romance novels. Antonio didn’t have the heart to say no,’ he said, squinting in the sunlight, looking out at the course.
‘Does Cici ride?’
‘No, she was never that interested in the horses. But you don’t want me raking up old ghosts, Ms Guilham.’
Whether John had purposely shied away from the past, or whether he’d noticed Antonio’s return, she couldn’t tell. Either way, his presence clearly sounded the end of their conversation.
‘John’s been telling me that Veranchetti�
�s chances are good. I might even have to place my first ever bet!’ she said brightly.
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.’
