His Virgin Bride: The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought: For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences

Emma couldn’t quite control the flutter of nerves in her belly. ‘I-I don’t think that will be necessary,’ she faltered. ‘Surely we can just…you know…wing it at the time…’

He gave a wry smile. ‘Wing it?’

‘Ad lib,’ she said. ‘You know…go on instinct…’

His eyes darkened to black pools of ink. ‘I thought that was exactly what I was just doing,’ he said, ‘and so were you if you were honest with yourself.’

‘Maybe I was thinking of your father,’ she said, even though she knew it would infuriate him. Better that than admit to him how much she had wanted him to kiss her. That was just asking too much of her pride, battered as it was.

His features went tight with anger. ‘You gold-digging little whore,’ he bit out savagely. ‘I swear to God you will not be thinking of my father when I finally take you to my bed.’

His confidence fuelled Emma’s defiance. She gave her head a little toss and gave him a taunting look. ‘That is not part of the deal, Rafaele, remember? If you want the goods on display, then you will have to pay extra for them.’

A nerve pulsed like a jackhammer at the side of his mouth. ‘Goddamn you,’ he ground out. ‘I am not paying another penny for a cheap little tramp like you. When you come to me you will do so because you want it so badly you cannot help yourself.’

Emma stood her ground as he brushed past her in a swish of anger-filled air that lifted the strands of hair about her face. She closed her eyes once the door clicked shut behind him, her chest deflating on an expelled breath, her throat tight with the effort of holding back a stray and totally unexpected sob.

* * *

Emma heard the lawyer arrive just on three in the afternoon and made her way downstairs to the library. She wished she had thought to ask Rafaele what he intended to tell his legal advisor about their relationship. As she came into the room she looked at him for guidance but his expression was impenetrable.

Brief introductions were made and she sat down and began reading through the wordy documents, deliberately taking her time before she signed the places marked with a sign-here sticker. Emma had no problem with signing a pre-nuptial agreement—several of her friends back home in Australia had done so when they had begun living with their partners or got married. She totally understood Rafaele’s position, he couldn’t risk a division of his assets upon their inevitable divorce, but somehow she wished things were different between them. She wasn’t used to people taking an instant dislike to her. Even her parents, for all their faults, had not really hated her; they had just loved their drugs more.

She signed the last place and gave the lawyer a smile. ‘Thank you for going to the trouble of printing a copy for me in English.’

‘Prego.’

Once the lawyer had left Rafaele turned to Emma. ‘I have left my mother’s dress and veil in the dressing room upstairs. If it is not suitable will you let me know immediately so I can come up with an alternative?’

Emma arched her brows at him. ‘You must have some very fancy connections in that little black book of yours if you can come up with wedding finery at short notice.’

‘There are certain advantages in being extremely wealthy,’ he returned with a stretch of his lips that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

‘Yes, well, you’re lucky, I suppose, that you’ve got that going for you in compensation for your other numerous shortcomings,’ she said with a pert tilt of her chin.

‘If you are looking for an apology for this afternoon’s discussion I am not going to give it to you,’ he said.

‘I wasn’t expecting you to be civil,’ she threw back. ‘I know that about you at the very least.’

His black-brown gaze clashed with hers. ‘You will know a whole lot more about me before this marriage is over, let me assure you.’

She gave a bored sigh and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I can hardly wait.’

Rafaele felt his control slipping. She was goading him deliberately, making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. He had never met a more infuriating woman, or a more desirable one. He wanted her so badly his body burned with it. The blood was already thick and heavy in his groin, the pulse of lust so strong he could feel it pounding in his ears. But acting on it was out of the question, or at least until they were officially married. She stood between him and his last link with his father. If he made a wrong move now she might pull the plug just to spite him. How could he trust her? For all he knew she might have cooked this scheme up with that cold-hearted bitch Sondra Henning. They could share the spoils of their victory, leaving him with nothing.

He was not going to let that happen.

He rearranged his features and forced his tense shoulders to relax. ‘This is not getting us anywhere,’ he said. ‘We are arguing like children in a playground. Tomorrow is going to be difficult enough for both of us.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she said. ‘That is why I am going to have an early night. If you want dinner you will have to make it yourself.’

Rafaele frowned at her churlish expression. ‘I do not expect you to prepare my meals, Emma. That is what I have a housekeeper for. I have employed a temporary one to fill in until my father’s lady returns from leave. She will start next week. I could not get anyone any sooner.’

‘Have you told her our marriage is not a real one?’

‘I did not see the necessity to do so,’ he said.

‘Isn’t she going to think it rather unusual we will not be sharing a bedroom?’

‘Many couples do not share a bedroom for a variety of reasons,’ he said. ‘I will tell her I am a very light sleeper if you like.’

‘Fine,’ she said and turned to leave.

‘Emma?’

He heard her draw in a breath of petulance as she turned back to face him. ‘Yes?’

He searched her features for a beat or two. ‘I hope I do not need to remind you that I expect you to refrain from bringing any of your lovers back here to the villa.’

She arched her brows at him. ‘Do I get the same guarantee from you?’

‘Any affairs I conduct will be discreet.’

Her eyes flashed with sparks of grey-blue hatred. ‘If you embarrass me publicly, then I swear to God I will do the same to you.’

Rafaele held her feisty glare. ‘Do so at your peril, Emma. You might think you have got the upper hand now your goal of marrying a rich man is just hours away, but do not forget who you are dealing with. My father might have been a weak-willed pushover, but you will not find me so easy to manipulate. You put one foot out of line and you will live to regret it. I will make sure of it.’

She gave him an insolent look. ‘Do you have any idea how much I loathe and detest you?’

His mouth tilted in a mocking smile. ‘If it is even half of what I feel for you, then I would say we are in for a very entertaining year of marriage.’

‘I am not staying married to you any longer than necessary,’ she said with another defiant glare. ‘Once I have what I want I am leaving.’

‘Believe me, Emma Money-Hungry March,’ he drawled dryly, ‘I will be the first on hand to help you pack your bags.’

She looked as if she was going to fling another retort his way, but suddenly seemed to change her mind. Instead she pressed her lips tightly together and brushed past him, her gait stiff with haughtiness. It was only later, much later, that he recalled seeing a glisten of moisture in her eyes before she had lowered them out of the reach of his.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_5bd91428-e0c6-58fe-b0a2-a33a54684efa)

WHEN Emma came downstairs the following morning wearing the wedding dress and veil Rafaele’s mother had worn on her wedding day he felt a shock wave of reaction go through him. She had styled her chestnut hair into a smooth princess-like chignon at the back of her head, her flawless face lightly made up with foundation and eye-shadow and just a hint of blusher on her cheeks. Her lips were a glossy pink and the fragrance she wore floated down towards him with every cautious step she took as the dress’s train followed her down the stairs.

He felt his throat go dry and had to swallow a couple of times to clear it enough to speak. ‘You look very beautiful, Emma,’ he said. ‘I have never seen a more stunning bride.’

‘I feel like a dreadful fraud,’ she said with a little downturn of her mouth.

He took her by the elbow and led her out to where his car and driver were waiting. ‘This is going to be the easy part. The priest tells us what to say and we say it. You have probably been to or seen enough weddings on television to know how to act. Just smile constantly and look adoringly at me.’

She gave him a surly look without responding.