She was half walking, half running through the foyer. She could hear the desperation in his voice and knew she had to get to him and turned, wild-eyed, when the receptionist stopped her in her tracks.
‘Mr D’Amilo will see you shortly.’
Emma briefly closed her eyes in frustration before answering. ‘I’ve already seen Mr D’Amilo.’ She gave a very short smile, tempted to add, for all the good it did. She turned her attention back to her brother, but the receptionist persisted.
‘I’m aware of that. Mr D’Amilo has asked that you wait while he considers your proposal further. If you’d like to take a seat, he’ll send for you in due course.’
She had no idea what game Zarios was playing—the only thing she was certain of was that it was a game! How she would have loved to ignore the command to sit. But Jake was still on the line—or rather, Emma thought, Jake was at the very end of the line.
‘Just hold on, Jake.’ She put the phone back up to her ear. ‘Just calm down. I’ll sort out something. I’ll talk to Zarios again.’
Despite the air-conditioning, sweat was beading on his forehead. Zarios felt as if his tie was choking him. Loosening it, he pulled open the top button of his shirt and tried to kick his stalled brain into some sort of action.
In an attempt to make things work with Miranda he’d relegated all the good things that he had shared with Emma to the recesses of his mind—had ignored the wonderful parts in the short life of their relationship and focussed solely on the death of it. He had replayed Emma’s finishing words like a mantra every time his mind had wandered in that dangerous direction. But even if he had discounted their lovemaking, their passion, long before today, no matter how he had tried he hadn’t been able to discount her.
And now she was back.
From the second he’d heard she was trying to make contact Zarios had been bracing himself—warning himself not to overreact, that if she did tell him she was pregnant he would stay calm…Except she wasn’t pregnant.
Opening his office drawer for the first time that week, he pulled out the hand-sized teddy bear, with its smiling face and black button eyes, and managed to really look at it. He remembered the mawkish pride that had filled him when he’d paid for the little thing and had looked forward to sharing it with Miranda.
Just the thought of Miranda made his jaw clench.
The slurs, the innuendoes, the filth that had been reported this past week should have had him shouting the truth from the rooftops—should have propelled him to come out of his corner fighting. Except in the abyss of his pain the slights of the press had barely touched the sides.
Grief was the only thing that consumed him now.
A grief he couldn’t understand and one he certainly couldn’t explain—even to himself.
Resting his head in his hands, Zarios forced himself to breath evenly, to hold it together, to rise above it as he always did.
He had business to attend to.
And now, waiting downstairs, was the one woman who could possibly make his father believe that he had changed. Zarios’s frozen brain was leaping into action now. He could even tell his father Emma was the real reason he had ended things with Miranda.
Stuffing the teddy back in the drawer, he slammed it shut, annoyed with himself for indulging in sentiment. The time for mourning was over.
Straightening his tie, he pressed on the intercom and told Jemima, his receptionist, to send her back in. After all…how could you mourn something that never even existed?
It was well after five before she was summoned. Way too late, Emma figured, for Zarios to do anything. The banks would have long since closed. Again the receptionist swiped her security tag for the lift and Emma headed to Zarios’s floor. The only difference was that this time his snooty PA wasn’t there to greet her. The sumptuous waiting area was empty, and Emma took a tentative seat, unsure what to do. She was also unsure what Zarios could possibly want with her now, so absolute had been his refusal to help.
She jumped slightly when his heavy office door opened and Zarios himself wordlessly gestured for her to come inside.
‘You waited.’
He stood at the window, staring out at the darkening Melbourne sky that was thick with rain despite the summer month. Threatening droplets splashed onto the window and she knew that in a few moments, when he’d finished playing whatever his little game was, there was no doubt she’d be out there.
‘I had no choice but to wait.’
‘There are always choices.’
‘Not always.’ She took a seat uninvited, angry now. What choice had her parents had? What choice did she have now other than to sit and wait to see what the master had to say?
‘You will have read about my break-up with Miranda?’ He didn’t turn to see her response; there was just a natural assumption that she had. ‘My father and the board are less than impressed.’
As they should be, Emma thought, but didn’t have the nerve to say it. Her voice was shaky when, after a moment, she found it. ‘Is it true?’ Emma swallowed. ‘That you left her because she couldn’t have your babies?’
‘Why do you owe so much money?’ Zarios countered, and when she didn’t answer he gave a wry smile. ‘We both have our own set of excuses, I am sure. When I first started working for my father it was a small company—building and refurbishing, here in Melbourne and in Rome. I found a property in Scotland—a castle that had the potential to be renovated into a top-class boutique hotel, ideal for weddings, that type of thing…’
Her head pounded with neuralgia. Why the hell was he telling her this? She didn’t need a history lesson, she needed cash!
He must have sensed her impatience. ‘Don’t worry—I am as loath as you are to be in conversation. Believe me, this is not idle chatter!’
‘Good.’ She accepted the glass of water he poured, draining it in one gulp, not caring whether or not it was ladylike.
‘For that to come to fruition we had to borrow, or bring investors on board. My father chose the latter option, and when the situation was repeated he brought in more investors. Ten years ago I was a year younger than you are now—twenty-four years old and still somewhat intimidated by father. The company was divided, with my father retaining a twenty-five percent stake, myself twenty-four. I strongly advised him to make his share twenty-six, mine twenty-five—are you still with me, Emma?’ He must have seen her eyes glaze over, because he snapped her to rapid attention. ‘Had he listened to me then, we would not be having this conversation now.’
‘I can do the maths.’ Emma gave a tight smile.
‘Good—then you will know how important that two percent share is now, when D’Amilo Financials is worth billions. Once my father retires our directors want to rename it, and for my father’s stake in the company to be spread between all the directors rather than passed to me—naturally, I am opposed.’
‘What about your father?’ Emma blinked. ‘Surely it’s up to him…?’
‘He wants what is best for the future of the company, and on recent form he is not sure that is me. As he has said, whatever happens I am still a majority shareholder.’ He registered her frown. ‘My relationship with my father is not the same as the one you had with your parents. He is more a business partner to me than a parent.’
‘What does this have to do with me?’
‘My father wants to see me settled. He is unwell.’
The clipped tone of his voice told Emma he wasn’t angling for sympathy, but no matter what she thought of the son, Emma cared about the father. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ She watched Zarios’s jaw stiffen, saw a flash of annoyance dart across his features at the invasive nature of her question. Finally he gave a brief, reluctant nod, before answering. ‘He requires major heart surgery. His colleagues do not know—I would prefer that it stays that way.’
‘Of course,’ Emma responded. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’
He neither wanted nor acknowledged her comment. Instead he moved swiftly on. �
�This is why he is retiring so quickly. He was going to tell your parents about the surgery after your father’s birthday. Given the seriousness of the matter, he is busy getting his affairs in order. He made it clear that if I toned down my behaviour, if I gave him reason to believe that I had changed, he would go against the rest of the board and transfer his stake to me. Miranda and I breaking up has almost put paid to that. However—’ he gave a wan smile ‘—just when it seemed irretrievable a solution has appeared.’ He gave Emma a black smile. ‘He thinks the world of you.’
‘He warned you off me!’ Emma pointed out. ‘I only wish you’d listened at the time.’
‘He doesn’t want me to hurt you, Emma!’ His lips pouted and he blew her a mock kiss. ‘Which is why we’re getting engaged!’
‘Please!’
‘I’ve never made it official with a woman before…’ He smiled at the novelty of his own treachery. ‘It would go a long way to convincing him!’
‘He’d never believe it.’
‘You’re too modest!’ Zarios chided, his sardonic smile mocking her. ‘Why, you’re an excellent liar and a consummate actress, Emma! Personally, I’d never have taken you for a gold-digging whore!’
‘Bastard!’
‘Then we understand each other,’ he drawled. ‘You’ll have no problem convincing him.’
‘As if he’s going to accept that we’re suddenly together—’ Emma shook her head. His proposal was too preposterous for words.
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ Zarios interrupted. ‘We will tell him the truth. We met up again after many years at your father’s sixtieth birthday party and the attraction was immediate.’
Which was the truth, Emma conceded. But only so far!
‘With all that has happened to you recently, it is no wonder things have moved so quickly. Of course it was hard, ending things with Miranda, but my feelings for you…’his eyes were black with malice ‘…were just impossible to ignore.’
‘Why?’ Emma blinked. ‘Why does it matter to you so much? You’re going to be rich either way…’
‘Honour,’ Zarios said. ‘Look it up in the dictionary when you get home. You might learn something!’
‘Honour amongst thieves, you mean!’ Emma responded. ‘You’re asking me to lie to your own father, remember.’
‘My father is too easily swayed by others—he has the Italian curse of worrying too much what others think.’
‘It must have skipped a generation.’
‘I have no…’ he snapped his fingers as he searched for the word ‘…no doubt.’ He shook his head, clearly not happy with his choice. ‘No guilt…’ Still he frowned.
‘No qualms.’ Emma stared coolly at him. ‘The word you’re looking for is qualms.’
‘It was the D’Amilo name that made our current directors rich, it is my acumen that has lined their pockets, and it is my brain that keeps it that way. I have no qualms about fighting for what is rightfully mine.’
‘Modest, too.’ Emma’s mouth twisted. She was way past even pretending to be polite now. She didn’t have time for this. There was no way she was going to agree, and there was no way he was going to lend her the money. She should never have come back!
‘I don’t believe in false modesty,’ Zarios continued. ‘I am the best—it is as simple as that.’
He sat down then, and stared at her as if commencing a business meeting.
‘I will transfer the funds you require into your account now; in return we will go to my father tonight and tell him of our plans.’
‘And what happens when your father realises it was just a charade?’ Emma asked scathingly.
‘Who said anything about a charade?’ Zarios frowned. ‘We will be engaged.’
‘But when it ends…’ Emma flailed.
‘It might not!’ Zarios just laughed at her confusion. ‘There is, after all, a high possibility we will get married!’
‘Married…’ She scooped up her bag. She had never heard anything more bizarre in her life. She loved Jake and would do anything to help him—well, almost anything—but a marriage of convenience with a snake like Zarios was way beyond the call of sisterly duty.
‘You’re hardly in a position to walk out,’ Zarios called to her departing back.
‘I’m in every position. You really think I’d marry you? After all you’ve done, the way you are, do you really think I’d want to be married to a man like you?’
‘I never said that you had to marry me.’
‘You just did.’ Her fingers were reaching for the door handle. She was in absolutely no mood to decipher one of Zarios’s cryptic messages—in no state to have her frayed emotions toyed with even for a little while longer.
‘If you would let me finish—you will see you do have an exit clause.’
‘An exit clause…’ She blinked in anger and frustration at his businesslike terms. His utter disregard for the sanctity of marriage had never been more evident.
‘Your parents’ insurance payout, the funds from their house—all are due for settlement around the same time as the board’s decision.’ Warily Emma nodded. ‘If you pay me back on the day you receive your inheritance you can walk away as soon as the board announces its decision.’
‘That’s all?’ Emma frowned, turning around to look at him. ‘I just have to pay you back?’
‘That’s it.’
‘But what about your father?’
‘I’ll worry about that.’
‘But it will devastate him…’
‘You have delusions of grandeur, Emma. I don’t think devastate is the word—I am sure we will all survive. Anyway, we are talking about a hypothetical situation—one I don’t believe will transpire. As I said, I have every reason to believe we will be married.’
‘Zarios, I will pay you back.’ She couldn’t really believe she was talking as if this was going to happen. ‘You know what I’m due to receive, and I always pay my debts…’
‘They are your debts?’
She swallowed, a dart of nervousness flashing in her eyes. Of course Jake would pay her back—she’d get it in writing this time, Emma decided. She’d get him to sign an agreement that he would pay her back in full on the day their parents’ inheritance came through.
‘You’ll get your money.’
‘We’ll see.’ Zarios smiled. ‘Until I do, you will be my fiancée. You will move in to my home so that I can take care of you—or rather deal with the press and the questions…’
‘I won’t…’Emma flushed. ‘I mean, there’ll be no…’
‘I don’t understand what you are saying.’ He flashed her an innocent smile.
‘Oh, I think you do. I want to make it clear, very clear, that we won’t be sharing a bed.’
‘I think the cleaners might suspect something if my fiancée is sleeping in a separate bed. And, as I said, we will be at my father’s this weekend. He found out his son had lost virginity many years ago…’
‘Fine!’ Emma trilled, her face on fire. ‘But we won’t be sleeping together.’
‘You expect me to sleep on the floor.’
Bastard. The word hissed on her lips, but she swallowed it down. She knew he was goading her, knew he was going to make her say it—well, she would.
‘There will be no sex—and I want an assurance from you that there will be no pressure.’
‘Pressure?’ For the first time that day she heard Zarios laugh. He actually threw his head back and laughed at her statement. But Emma stood her ground.
‘You can add that to your precious clauses,’ Emma spat.
‘Why?’ He stood up and walked towards her. ‘Why waste my lawyer’s time getting him to write up a rule that is only going to be broken?’
‘It won’t be.’
‘And as for pressure…’He wasn’t laughing now. ‘Be careful what you accuse me of, Emma.’
He was in her face now, so close she could smell him even as she backed further towards the door. His dangerous gaze held hers, black fad
ing to indigo, just as it had on the morning he had saved her. Only now it felt as if she were drowning again—drowning in this man who could blind her to his faults. She dragged her eyes downwards, but there was no solace to be had there. His full mouth was moving in on her as he warned her to choose her words more carefully, as he made a mockery of the one rule she had insisted upon.
‘I have never, will never, pressure a woman.’
‘Good.’ Her voice was a croak, but somehow she got the word out. His hand was behind her now, lazily holding the door she leant against. There was not a shred of contact between them, but she felt as if he was inside her.
‘Do you feel pressured now?’
His mouth was mere inches from hers, her mind was quailing, but her treacherous body flared in an instant recall of their one dizzy time together.
‘You haven’t answered the question…’ Zarios said slowly. ‘Emma, am I pressuring you now?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want me to kiss you?’
Yes.
She didn’t say it, but the word snapped like a twig between them.
She wanted to forget, to escape…for just one moment. To forget this living hell and taste the heaven she had once witnessed. To accept the temporary relief his mouth would surely provide.
To be held instead of holding up.
He kissed her then, his mouth crushing hers. Except she was kissing him back with all her might, pressing her body into his as if she wanted to climb inside him to escape, revelling in the freedom that his touch, his kiss, his being somehow brought her. Oh, she was lost, lost, lost, and it was wonderful. She was back in oblivion and it tasted divine. His tongue stroked hers, extricated her from the hell of the past few weeks. How she kissed him back—biting on his lip, sucking his flesh, holding his head as he held hers. They were devouring each other with hot, angry kisses that soothed.
The ferocity of his erection pressed into her groin just wasn’t enough. The incessant pressure of his mouth, the delicious probing of his tongue and the contentious feel of his hand pushing up her skirt, creeping along her thigh, was bliss. Yet it still wasn’t enough! And he knew, he knew, because his fingers were hard on the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She parted them, just moved her feet a fraction, and still he kissed her, still his fingers crept higher, till they arrived at her sweet, welcoming moist warmth. As he slid his fingers inside her, his skilled hand dimmed reason. She pulled her head away from his kiss, biting on his shoulder or else she’d scream, knowing that in just a second she would come in his hand.
Bedded for Passion, Purchased for Pregnancy Page 7
