Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride

Emily glanced up at him. So far Anton had got all his own way in this farce of a marriage, but not any more, and she took great delight in telling him.

‘The locket was a present from my parents for my eighteenth birthday. And the bracelet was a present from my father on my twenty-first birthday. Beautiful, aren’t they? And surprisingly they match the ring you bought me. Isn’t that fortuitous?’

Anton frowned at the mention of her father, though, if he was honest, in a way he was relieved. ‘Yes, very,’ he agreed. Better a father than the ex-fiancé he had imagined.

She turned to leave, and he caught her wrist. ‘Wait.’

‘Was there something else?’ Her eyes flicked over him.

‘No, not really.’ It was not like him to be so indecisive. But there was something … She was as exquisite as ever, as polite, but the blue eyes that met his no longer revealed her every thought. Instead, he realized, they looked cold, almost cynical …

He let go of her hand and she left.

Was he responsible for the change in Emily, her cynicism? he wondered for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders. No … In his experience all women were notoriously volatile; wrong time of the month, wrong clothes—anything could upset them. Problem resolved, he headed for the shower.

Emily looked around her. Not only did it make it easier for her to ignore Anton’s hand resting lightly on her waist, it enabled her to study the glittering throng, or, if she was honest, the women.

Anton was at home in this crowd. He had introduced her to the winning owner of the team, and a host of other people whose names she didn’t even try to remember. But all the time in the back of her mind was the nagging question if he could invite two of his ex-girlfriends to stay with them for the weekend, how many more of the women here had he slept with?

By Anton’s own admission he had been attending the Monaco Grand Prix for years, and she had not forgotten what Max had told her about the ‘Pit Ponies’. What a degrading nickname for female groupies, and what did it say about the men who used them? Her husband probably one.

‘So, Emily, have you had enough?’ Anton said softly. ‘Want to go back to the yacht?’ She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and tensed.

His hand tightened on her waist and the warmth of his long body against hers was a temptation, a temptation she was determined to resist.

‘No.’ She looked up at his brutally handsome face. His dark eyes held a wealth of sensual knowledge that excited and shamed her.

‘Actually, I would like to go to the casino,’ she said sweetly. ‘Carlo told me you usually all go after the party—it is another tradition of yours, apparently.’ Along with bedding any beautiful female he fancied, she almost added …

Anton cursed Carlo under his breath, and, much as he ached to get Emily back in bed, he could not deny her the trip. He had already taken all the eye-rolling and ribbing he could stand from his motor-sport acquaintances when he had introduced her as his wife, when Emily had quite blithely told them this was his idea of a honeymoon. ‘Yes, okay.’

Anton gritted his teeth as the roulette wheel spun again.

‘Oh, my God!’ Emily exclaimed as the white ball landed on her age, number twenty-four, on the roulette wheel. ‘I’ve won again.’

The croupier gave her a broad smile and shoved a huge stack of chips towards her, and Anton wanted to shove him in the face.

‘Yes, Emily,’ he said, stopping her hand as she went to place another bet. ‘But we have been here over three hours. The others left ages ago. You have won at least ten thousand, so don’t push your luck.’

The euphoria of his team’s win, his earlier good mood had totally evaporated and slowly he had begun to realize that Emily was delaying going back to the yacht. Trying to avoid going to bed with him. Well, not any more; she enjoyed sex with an appetite that matched his own, and he had waited long enough.

She cast him a look. ‘Have I really? That rather proves the maxim—lucky at cards, unlucky in love.’ And she gave him a brittle smile.

‘Cut out the sarcasm. Collect your chips—we are leaving.’

He was angry. She had with very little persuasion been a willing bed partner after their original argument. She had agreed to continue their marriage in a civilized manner. He could not fault her—she had been perfectly polite to their guests, if a bit sarcastic to him at times, which he could understand given her upset over her father and the honeymoon, he silently conceded. But he wasn’t a fool. Now there was definitely something else bugging her …

He was sure of it when they finally got back to their cabin and he drew her into his arms.

She tried to pull away from him, but he merely tightened his hold on her and looked down at her with smouldering eyes.

‘I have waited all night for this,’ he said, and bent his head to take her mouth. But she averted her face and his lips brushed her cheek.

‘Do you mind, Anton, but it is four in the morning and after the last few hectic days I am exhausted.’ Her eyes avoided his, and her body stiffened in his arms. ‘Plus I need to be up in a few hours—a couple of your guests are leaving early.’

‘One kiss.’ He grasped the nape of her neck and tipped back her head; she closed her eyes, and parted her lips, and he kissed her.

He kept on kissing her until she was melting in his arms. Then he lifted his head, and stared down into her flushed face. No woman manipulated him with sex, never had, never would.

‘Are you sure you are too tired?’ he drawled mockingly.

She looked at him for a long moment, and he could actually see her withdrawal, the sensuality fading from her eyes, freezing him out.

‘Yes, sorry,’ she apologized, and slipped out of his arms. ‘But don’t let me stop you. I have it on good authority there are at least two other women you have slept with on board. I’m sure one will oblige. If not you could always nip ashore and pick up a motor-racing groupie with no trouble at all.’

Anton stiffened in outrage, and for a moment he said nothing as he fought to control the fury that surged through him at her insult to his moral integrity, his dark eyes narrowing to slits as he took in her cool face.

‘That is some opinion you have of me, Emily, and in the future I might take up your generous offer,’ he drawled. ‘But first I’d like to know who fed you such lies?’

‘Well, I knew about Eloise, of course, but while you were doing your man thing with cars I overheard Sally Harding describing your incredible sexual skill in the bedroom, and pitying me because what man would be so crass as to invite, I believe her exact words were at least two of his ex-lovers on his honeymoon.’

Her explanation was delivered in such a cool, disinterested voice that Anton simply glared at her. He did not trust himself to speak—disgust and anger washing over him.

‘And you believed her?’ he finally demanded through gritted teeth.

She gave him a derisory glance. ‘The number of women you have bedded is legendary according to the press and I don’t hear you denying it.’

His reputation in the business world was first class, and he would defend it to the hilt. But he had never concerned himself with the vastly exaggerated claims the press made about the women in his life.

‘I don’t have to,’ he snapped. ‘As for Sally Harding, she is a married woman who came on to me. A woman scorned and all that.’

‘If you say so.’ She shrugged her shoulders and Anton saw the patent disbelief in her face as she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

He stepped forward, his knee-jerk reaction to go after her, convince her of the truth. Then he stopped, masculine pride coming to the fore. He had never seen the need to justify himself to a woman in his life and he was not going to start now. It smacked too much of begging …

It was another new experience for Anton. No woman had ever rejected him and apologized. Then insulted him so thoroughly that he was still having difficulty believing Emily … his wife of mere days … had casually suggested he seek out another woman for sex.

The anger he had held in check for so long engulfed him. A string of Spanish expletives rolled off his tongue, and in a mood as black as thunder he stalked out of the cabin and up on deck. He did not trust himself to be around Emily right now without losing control, and that was unthinkable …

When he had cooled down and returned Emily was curled up in bed fast asleep.

She was so innocent and so gullible, the Harding woman had probably known Emily was listening and had fed her a pack of lies. She was no match for some of the female sharks that moved in the circle of the super-rich, or for the news hounds that preyed on a man in his position.

Given his family background, he had learnt long ago that it was pointless issuing denials—it only added fuel to the flames of gossip. Any woman he was seen with was automatically labelled his latest mistress. Yet he had never actually kept a mistress in the true sense of the word. The knowledge of his mother’s not particularly happy life spent waiting for a man to visit, a second-class lover, and for her son a virtually nonexistent father, was a salutary lesson.

Sure, as a single, healthy, sexually active male, of course there had been women in his life, women he had had relationships with lasting from a few months to over a year, though he had never lived with a woman. He preferred his own space. But they were women he respected and when the inevitable parting had come, they had for the most part remained friends. In fact he could count them on his fingers, and he had only once had a one-night stand and that had been with Eloise, and a disaster. Whether Emily would believe him was questionable. But whatever her father had done to his sister, he realized, revenge and pride aside, it was up to him to reassure her. She deserved that much.

Quietly he stripped and showered, then slid into bed beside her. He looped an arm around her waist and drew her into his body. She didn’t stir and for a long time he lay with Emily enfolded in his arms. She was his … and he could set her straight in the morning, was his last arrogant thought as he drifted off to sleep.