arrogant, Emily thought bitterly. He was standing at the foot of the bed, his shirt in place and zipping his shorts, and suddenly a fiery tide of red washed over her as she realized he had not even removed his clothing. Whereas she … She looked down … Oh, God … Hastily she tugged her bra and top down over her breasts. She was mortified and glanced wildly around for her trousers.
‘Yours, I believe,’ Anton drawled, a hint of amusement in his black eyes as he dropped her white trousers and briefs on her legs. ‘Though you might like to change for dinner—our guests will be arriving soon.’ And he strolled out of the cabin without a backward glance, while Emily fumed.
She leapt off the bed, and headed straight for the shower for the third time that day. She wasted no time, knowing Anton would be back to change.
Washed and wearing only bra and briefs, she unpacked her case yet again. She would allow Anton to think she agreed with him, until she could figure out a way to leave without harming her family.
She chose a short, black, thankfully crease-proof slip dress, and put it on. She slapped some moisturizer on her face, covered her lips in pink gloss and brushed her hair. She saw no reason in dressing up to the nines for Anton and his friends. They were not hers and never would be now. He had had the nerve to say earlier she could dabble with her career until the children arrived. The word ‘dabble’ said it all. So much for his promise to support her given on the night he proposed. He obviously had no respect for who or what she was. As for children … She hardened her heart against the image of a dark-haired beautiful baby, a replica of Anton, in her arms … Like all her foolish dreams of love, that was never going to happen now.
She slid her feet into black sandals, and exited the cabin. She needed some fresh air.
Emily walked to the seaward side of the yacht and, half hidden by a lifeboat, she leant against the rail to watch the thin crescent of the sun sink beneath the horizon in a last red blaze of glory. She stood for a long time, her mind swirling, trying to find a way out. She looked at the darkening night sky and felt as though the same darkness were wrapping its way around her heart and soul.
She would never do anything that might harm her brother and family. After today, her trust in Anton was totally shattered. How could she love a man she didn’t trust? It wasn’t possible. Yet when he had tumbled her on the bed her anger had been fierce but fleeting, she had welcomed his possession, and with bitter self-loathing she knew she would again. She was helpless to resist. She also knew she had no alternative but to go along with what he wanted. She was trapped …
CHAPTER SIX
EMILY heard the sound of raised voices and realized the launch must have arrived with the guests, but she didn’t move, reluctant to go and face strangers with her emotions so raw.
A deep painful sigh escaped her. Short of discovering she had married a homicidal maniac, she must have had the worst first day of marriage in history. Still, it couldn’t possibly get any worse, she told herself, and, taking a deep breath, she turned.
‘Emily.’ Anton was moving towards her. He was dressed in a lightweight beige suit, his shirt open at the neck, and his black hair slicked severely back from his brow, and she realized with a sick sense of shame he looked more gorgeous than ever to her tortured mind.
‘I wondered where you were hiding,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘Our guests have arrived.’ He took her arm and led her into the salon.
Emily was wrong: the day could get worse …
Seated on Anton’s left, Emily glanced around the table. The dinner party from hell was a pretty fair assessment, she mused. They were seven couples in all, a single young man and, with the inclusion of Max, sixteen around the dinner table in the sumptuous dining area of the yacht.
Anton at his eloquent best had introduced her as his wife, and she would have to have been an idiot not to notice the surprise and outright disbelief at his pronouncement. While in an aside to her he had warned her to behave impeccably in front of his guests … or else …
Else what? Emily wondered. He could not hurt her any more than he already had. The congratulations were gushing, but the looks she got from the six other women on board varied from genuine pleasure to curiosity to almost pitying and, from one, simply venomous.
She smiled and Anton kept the conversation going with very little help from her through five courses that she barely remembered eating. She was in shock.
Wouldn’t you just know it? she mused. The first person she had seen was Eloise. Anton had introduced her to Eloise’s Italian husband, Carlo Alviano, and his twenty-two-year-old son from a previous marriage, Gianni.
She raised her glass and took another sip of wine, and glanced around the table. Sally and Tim Harding she recognized from a business dinner she had attended in London with Anton. As for the other four couples, they seemed pleasant enough. One couple was Swiss, another French, and a rather nice middle-aged American couple, and the last pair were Greek. It was a truly international gathering of the seriously rich, and, from the designer dresses and jewellery on show, she wouldn’t like to estimate how much their combined worth came to. Billions no doubt …
She glanced at the young man, Gianni, seated on her right. There was something familiar about him but she could not quite place him. She took another sip of wine, and let her gaze roam over him. He was classically handsome with perfect features and thick black curly hair. Maybe he was a model; perhaps she had seen a picture of him in a magazine.
‘More wine?’ the steward offered and Emily nodded. She knew she was probably drinking too much, but she was past caring and let her eyes stray to rest on Eloise, with a kind of morbid fascination.
Eloise was obviously Anton’s type of woman.
She was wearing a red minidress, that barely covered her voluptuous breasts or her bum. She was seated on the right of Anton and had spent most of the meal trying to hold his attention, gossiping away to him about old times with much touching of his arm and anywhere else she could reach. As for her husband, Carlo, who was seated next to her, she virtually ignored him.
Why Carlo put up with her Emily could not fathom. A sophisticated, handsome man in his fifties, he was quite charming and owned a merchant bank. Maybe that was why Eloise had married him, she thought cynically.
She took another sip of her wine. And maybe Carlo didn’t care so long as the sex was good … Maybe he was the same type of man as Anton—look at the reality of her marriage after one day—and she giggled, seeing the black humour in the situation.
‘Oh, please, you must share the joke,’ Eloise trilled, all fake smiles.
Emily glanced across at her, saw the spite in the other woman’s eyes and said, ‘It was nothing. Just a humorous thought.’
‘Let us be the judge of that,’ Eloise prompted. And for one moment Emily was tempted to tell her exactly what she had been thinking. But although she had consumed a little too much wine, it was far from enough for her to make a fool of herself.
‘No,’ she said and froze into immobility as Anton lifted a hand to her cheek and trailed his fingers down and around the nape of her neck, urging her head towards him.
‘Some coffee or water maybe.’ His gaze locked with hers and something moved in the dark depths of his eyes. ‘You have had a couple of very full days, my darling, as I know,’ he drawled, his finger pressing on the pulse that beat strongly in her throat.
Her eyes widened, and she barely controlled an involuntary shiver until he added, ‘Any more wine and you will fall asleep.’ And she realized that his show of affection was purely for the guests and to add insult to injury he had implied she was drunk … the swine.
She drew in a deep steadying breath. ‘You’re right as always, darling,’ she mocked, and reached up to remove his hand from her neck, digging her nails into his wrist in the process. ‘Coffee, thanks.’
Anton’s eyes narrowed, promising retaliation, then he turned to beckon the steward and