More Than A Millionaire (Contemporary Romance)

by Sophie Weston

  She was astonished by her shock.

  So he had been skiving off, she thought, grappling with the idea. Well, why not? He would not have cared much about what happened between them, or he would have come to her last night. Of course he did not care. She was the latest in a long long line of women whose names had been linked with him. And she was not even a proper girlfriend.

  Even so, she was hurt that he had cared so little. While she had been unable to think about anything else, he had been out to the gym!

  Abby told herself that it was typical male indifference. It was, she decided, par for the course. All right, it made her want to hit him. But it was not worth suffering over, not in comparison with their exchange in the kitchen last night. Now that was really unbearable.

  Accordingly she turned abruptly and walked away from him.

  He caught up with her easily.

  Abby kept walking. ‘Go away.’

  Emilio kept pace with her just as easily.

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got to talk to you.’

  ‘So you said last night. And I thought we did.’

  ‘Yes but—’

  ‘And you were happy enough that we had finished then.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was under your roof all night,’ Abby reminded him, her heart too hot to be wise. ‘You didn’t have anything more to say then.’

  Emilio’s face twisted. ‘Oh, God. I knew I should have taken you to bed.’

  It was like a blow. For a moment she could not say a word.

  Then she found her voice. ‘Go away,’ she choked.

  He put a hand on her arm. Abby’s heart lurched. She faltered and nearly tripped. He steadied her.

  ‘Abby, I realise I hurt you last night,’ he said simply. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice tight.

  It was not convincing, even Abby could hear that.

  She really, really did not want to have to think about what she had said and done last night. Especially not with him standing in front of her. Even though he had his clothes on now, she could remember a little too vividly the shocking warmth of his naked chest. And her own reaction to it.

  She shook off his hand and said fiercely, ‘Can I go now? Or do you want to have another go at destroying my ego?’

  ‘I never meant to do that.’

  Abby was writhing inwardly. ‘Well, you hit the jackpot without trying then.’

  She tried to push past him. He stepped in front of her.

  He was still warm. In spite of the cold day and his light clothing, she could have warmed her hands on him if she had let herself touch him. She stuffed her hands in her pockets. Out of sight, her nails gouged crescents out of her palms.

  ‘Abby, that’s not fair.’

  ‘Maybe not. But it’s how I feel.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I know how you feel. You made it very clear last night.’

  I hate you! It hung between them, unspoken but as loud as if she had screamed it.

  Almost sobbing—with fury, she told herself, with fury—she said, ‘Then get out of my way.’

  He said urgently, ‘I told you I’d find a way to deal with it. I have.’

  That gave her pause as nothing else would have done.

  ‘You have? How?’

  He was too experienced to relax. But he stopped barring her path.

  ‘It will take some cooperation on your part.’

  Abby hesitated. ‘I’m listening.’

  It was not encouraging, thought Emilio. But at least she was not actually throwing flames at him for the moment. He sighed. This was not how he had ever imagined making his first proposal.

  But planning did not seem to work with Abby. He would have preferred candlelight and soft music. Hell, he would have settled for her not shivering with cold. But she was here, she was listening, and if last night had taught him nothing else, it had taught him to seize the moment. He might not get another chance.

  He said abruptly, ‘Marry me.’

  Abby stared at him, blank. For a moment she thought she must have misheard.

  ‘What?’

  Ouch! Thought Emilio. But he repeated it, without comment.

  Abby could not speak.

  Emilio said reasonably, ‘The whole newspaper story is a fabrication. We both know that. But the only thing that keeps them interested is the suggestion that you are two-timing me. We announce our engagement. They lose interest. It’s as simple as that.’

  Now, he judged, was not the time to add that he was wildly and unexpectedly in love with her; that he probably had been for nine years; that he would make it his life work to keep her safe and happy. He would save that up for when he took her to Spain. He would enjoy wooing her properly, thought Emilio.

  He smiled at her in anticipation.

  That smile was too much for Abby. She forgot how hurt she was in a blaze of grateful temper.

  ‘How dare you!’

  He blinked.

  She was glad to see that something had rocked him off his appalling self-confidence, at last.

  ‘You really do have to play to win, don’t you?’ she spat. ‘Is there anything you would stop at?’

  It was Emilio’s turn to go blank. ‘What?’

  ‘Molly said you wouldn’t put up with the press saying I could take you or leave you. She was right, wasn’t she? That’s what this is about.’

  Emilio shook his head, utterly disconcerted. ‘I’ve just asked you to marry me,’ he said gropingly.

  ‘No you didn’t,’ contradicted Abby. ‘You told me to marry you. And I can tell you here and now, it’s not going to work.’

  ‘What isn’t? What are you talking about?

  ‘You don’t play games,’ she reminded him. ‘Well, I don’t take orders. I’ve had a lot of practice. Live with four brothers all your life and you become an expert in not taking orders.’

  ‘Of course it wasn’t an order,’ said Emilio.

  ‘Then learn to ask properly,’ said Abby fiercely.

  He shook his head. ‘Oh, boy, this is not how I planned it,’ he muttered.

  ‘That I can believe.’

  She glared at him, chest rising and falling as if she had just run up stairs.

  But at least she was still there. She had not taken the opportunity to speed off down the road away from him, thought Emilio. Some faint voice somewhere told him that that was significant. Somehow he could retrieve this situation, if he just found the key.

  ‘Do you want me to go down on one knee?’ he asked after a moment.

  Abby flushed. Her eyes were very bright. Too bright, he thought.

  ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ she hissed.

  But still she did not go.

  He nearly took her hand. Then decided it would be wiser not to touch her for the moment. Not until he had managed to talk her out of some of that fury.

  ‘I’m not laughing at you. I’m trying to convince you that I’m serious.’

  Abby made a very rude noise.

  He did touch her then. Wise or not, he could not bear to see her looking so wretched.

  He pulled her into his arms. He did not kiss her, just held her against him.

  There was a cold wind but there was that amazing warmth again. It was not fair. Abby could feel his heart thundering under her cheek. For a treacherous moment it felt like heaven.

  He said into her hair, ‘Come home with me, Abby. We can work it out.’

  She nearly stayed there, cradled against him, acquiescent. She nearly let him take over. She nearly believed.

  If only he had said he loved her, she would have been entirely convinced.

  But he didn’t.

  Oh, he was kind, thought Abby. The fight seeped out of her, leaving her bereft and shivering. A part of her was even grateful for the arm round her. It felt protective. His voice was calm and friendly. He was like a rock. She had no doubt at all that when he said he could sort out the press stories, he was right. He would be able to sort out anything he wa
nted to.

  Including a girl whose kisses he hadn’t wanted nine years ago and didn’t want now.

  Abby’s heart froze within her. She straightened slowly.

  She said, ‘I can’t bear this.’ Even to her own ears she sounded frantic.

  Emilio looked stunned.

  He let her go without a word.

  Of course it was not as easy as that.

  Emilio avoided her scrupulously. But the press did not. Abby kept a cool smile pinned in place and pushed past them whenever they tried to intercept her. She refused to answer a single question.

  She could not find a flat as quickly as she wanted, either. After Abby spent a difficult couple of nights dodging the press in small hotels in Victoria, Molly di Perretti offered her sofa bed and asked absolutely no questions. It was not ideal but Abby was grateful. It even worked—until the celebrity gossip columnists tracked her down there, too.

  Abby was at an industry fair where a client was showcasing the very latest in fibreglass racing boats. She had been there all day and was beginning to look longingly at the clock. The fair closed its doors to the public at ten but she was hoping to get away before that. And then her mobile phone rang.

  ‘Hi.’ It was Molly. ‘Better be careful, Abby. Bandits at twelve o’clock.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s a couple of photographers camped outside the front gate. They must have had a tip off.’

  Abby sucked her teeth. Not everyone at C&C was as sympathetic as Molly. In fact only today Sam had actually said that Abby was wilfully wasting media exposure which could be used to good effect. Used by C&C presumably. So it was quite possible that one of the more ambitious members of staff, deducing that Molly was putting up their in-house celebrity, had shopped her.

  ‘OK. Thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Find somewhere else to spend the night, I suppose. I don’t fancy being door-stepped.’

  But she was running out of options and she knew it.

  She ended the call and stood looking at the telephone. ‘Here’s where I came in,’ she muttered. Only this time there was no knight in shining armour to save her.

  Or was there?

  Her pride revolted against turning to him. Her head said that it was a crazy thing to do, she would only be hurt again.

  But her heart—well, her heart wanted to see him again, any which way it could manage.

  ‘He may not even be in London,’ Abby told herself, torn between hope and trepidation.

  But it was Emilio who answered the phone.

  ‘Diz.’

  He sounded crisp and businesslike. Abby remembered the times when he had been far from crisp. In fact, she did not think he had ever been businesslike with her. He had either been furious, as he was in that first memorable meeting at C&C, or frankly seductive.

  She shivered at the memory and could not speak.

  ‘Hello?’ he said again sharply. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Ab—’ Her voice sounded strange. She cleared her throat and started again. ‘Abby. I’m sorry to disturb you. Can we talk?’

  There was a sharp little pause.

  She thought, Oh, God, he’s probably going out to dinner with someone. He’ll be getting ready. She may even be there in the flat with him….

  She said hurriedly, ‘Bad idea. You’re busy. It’s all right. Forget it.’

  ‘Abby,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll think of something else.’

  He raised his voice. ‘Abby.’

  ‘I can easily—’ She heard at last and stopped jabbering. ‘What?’

  ‘Talking was a good idea.’ The deep voice was amused. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at Olympia. But that doesn’t matter. I can come over in a cab.’

  ‘I will fetch you,’ he said flatly.

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘Yes, there is.’ There was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice that made her melt. ‘You could decide that I am too busy and take off.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Abby, concentrating on not melting.

  ‘I still prefer to come to meet you. When will you be ready to leave?’

  ‘Anytime.’

  ‘I will see you in the foyer in fifteen minutes.’

  Abby flung stuff together in the most rapid tidying up of her life. Then she grabbed her tote bag, said a distracted goodbye to the client, and raced to the entrance.

  She only just got there first. Emilio was there inside the fifteen minutes he promised. He must have run every single red light on the way to do it in that time, thought Abby. She said so. It was a relief to have something neutral to talk about.

  ‘Of course,’ said Emilio.

  He smiled down at her. The look in his eyes made her heart shake.

  Not such a neutral subject after all, Abby saw, startled.

  He took her bag from her proprietorially.

  ‘And I’m parked illegally, too. Let’s go before the law catches up with me.’

  He took her back to the flat at top speed. They swept into the underground car park like a whirlwind. He brought the big car to a halt straddling two bays, and seemed not to care. It seemed out of character for someone normally so well coordinated, who always did everything with such impeccable precision.

  But Abby did not comment. She was too busy keeping hold of her own reactions when he helped her out of the car. She felt horribly self-conscious as he walked her into the building, one arm locked round her like a vice. But there was no one there to take note.

  Emilio felt the tension go out of her. He had no trouble interpreting it. His arm tightened.

  ‘Have the press been giving you a bad time?’

  ‘You’ve seen what they write.’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was the first thing he looked for every morning. Traynor’s management had learned to be grateful for it. Emilio’s distraction had allowed them space to effect some rapid reforms of their internal controls without his actually noticing. Sometimes, when they went to his room to discuss the next step in restructuring, they found him staring out of the window deep in thought. Not very comfortable thought. Traynor’s management were Abby’s greatest fans.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Abby, pulling a face.

  But he was as philosophical as Molly.

  ‘It’s not so bad.’

  He was opening the door to the flat. He stood aside to let her in. Just for a moment Abby paused, meeting his eyes.

  ‘But it’s not true.’

  His smile was crooked. ‘That depends on your perspective.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. Truth is truth. They’re saying that you—that I—we—’

  He urged her in and closed the door behind them very deliberately. He looked down at her, his eyes intent.

  ‘They’re saying we’re lovers.’

  Abby flushed brilliantly. She looked away.

  ‘You see, I can say it,’ he said quite gently.

  She swallowed.

  ‘Nothing to say?’

  She folded her lips together, shaking her head like the awkward schoolgirl she had once been. She could not meet his eyes now. Even so, she knew he was smiling.

  ‘Is it something to do with being English?’ he said, as if he was musing aloud. ‘You talk about everything as long as it isn’t important. And tell the truth about everything except what you feel.’

  That did make her look at him.

  Stung, Abby said, ‘I’ve always told the truth.’

  She did look at him then. And the look in his eyes was more than a smile. Much more.

  ‘I remember,’ he said softly.

  He slid her coat off her shoulders.

  Abby’s lips parted. ‘I thought we were going to talk,’ she said, dazed.

  But she helped him take the coat off. She even shrugged out of her jacket without him starting it.

  ‘Later.’ His voice was uneven.

  That deep shivering had started
again. She would have been ashamed of it if she had not been absolutely certain that he was shivering, too.

  He was wearing a dark polo-necked sweater. Abby wrenched it over his head. Her hands shook. He held them pressed against his ribs for a moment. She stilled, absorbing strength, warmth, the total abandonment of his body to her. Moved almost to tears, she bent forward and kissed the pulse in his throat.

  He made a small sound, shocking in its rawness.

  That was when they both lost control.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LATER, she stirred in his arms.

  Their clothes were strewn around the hall and they were lying with their heads cushioned on a tangle of his sweater and her smart trousers, now creased beyond recognition. He held her against him as if he would never let her go, even when she sighed and stretched.

  ‘Emilio,’ she protested, laughing.

  His hold relaxed a little. But only so he could raise himself on one elbow and kiss a lifting breast.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Abby, between appreciation and embarrassment.

  He smiled down straight into her eyes. ‘You’re shy.’

  ‘No, I’m not, I—’

  ‘You’re shy.’

  He looked delighted. Abby gave up trying to lie.

  ‘There’s no need to sound so gleeful about it,’ she said mock cross.

  ‘Sorry.’ But he did not sound it.

  He kissed the other breast. Abby felt her flesh stir. She gave a deep sensuous shiver.

  Emilio’s eyes darkened.

  ‘Bed,’ he said.

  In spite of everything he had just done to her—everything she had done to him—Abby blushed.

  This time it was her mouth he kissed. Lingeringly.

  ‘Come along, my heart. You’ll be more comfortable in bed.’

  In spite of her shyness, she ran her hands down the long strength of his back, enjoying his ripple of response.

  ‘I don’t think I could be more comfortable,’ she said dreamily.

  ‘That’s because you can’t read my mind,’ Emilio told her. ‘I give you fair warning, you come to bed now. Or you take your chances on carpet burns. Your choice.’

  Abby sighed and abandoned herself to his master plan.

  At some point during a long and sleepless night, she said in wonder, ‘I never knew I could be like this.’