JACQUELINE BAIRD - The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride

Emily’s blue eyes widened in surprise at his blunt revelations, her tension forgotten as she listened intrigued as he continued.

‘When she was in Europe she met and fell in love with a Greek man who was unfortunately married with children. But he was decent enough to set her up in a house in Corinth where I was born. Their affair lasted for years, he died when I was twelve and my mother decided to return to Peru.’

‘That is so sad. Your poor mother, you poor boy,’ she murmured. Totally absorbed in his story, she compassionately squeezed his hand.

‘I might have guessed you would feel sorry for me.’ His dark head bent and his lips brushed her brow. ‘Ah, Emily, you are so naive and so misguided. As a wealthy man’s mistress my mother was never poor in the monetary sense and neither was I.’ He looked into her big blue eyes, his own gleaming with cynical amusement. ‘I hate to disillusion you, but your sympathy is wasted on me.’

‘So why did you tell me all that?’ she asked, puzzled. He did not strike her as the sort of man who would bare his soul to a relative stranger.

‘May be because it got you to relax in my arms.’ He smiled.

‘Was it all lies?’ she shot back, her body stiffening again, this time in anger.

‘Not all…I actually am a bastard.’ He grinned, the hand at her waist stroking slowly up her back, drawing her closer still. And she involuntarily trembled in his hold. ‘And as you so rightly said,’ he drawled softly, ‘I use all the talents I have to get what I want. And I want you, Emily Fairfax.’

Stunned by his outrageous comment, she stared up into his night-black eyes, and saw the desire he made no attempt to hide. ‘You devious devil,’ she exclaimed.

‘Angel,’ he amended, his dark head dipping, his warm breath tickling her ear as he urged her hard against him, making her intimately aware of his aroused state. ‘And the way you tremble in my arms I know you want me. The attraction between us was instant and electric so don’t pretend otherwise, Emily,’ he commanded, and straightened up.

‘You’re unbelievable,’ she gasped. Though she could not deny the trembling, or the attraction, she had no intention of succumbing to such blatant seduction. ‘Coming on to me when you have the beautiful Eloise with—’

He cut her off. ‘Eloise is a very old friend, nothing more I can assure you, and so could her husband,’ he said, his dark eyes holding hers, a wicked gleam in their ebony depths. ‘She is quite a famous television star in Latin America, but she has ambitions to be famous worldwide. Which is why she is over here to discuss the possibility of starring in a musical production in the West End next year. She is going back to her husband tomorrow so you have nothing to be jealous about.’

‘Jealous. Are you crazy? I don’t even know you,’ Emily spluttered.

‘That is soon remedied. I will call you tomorrow and arrange a time for our dinner date,’ he declared, and stopped dancing, his hands sliding to span her waist, and hold her still. ‘But now I think we’d better get back to the table, before people start to gossip. The music has ended.’

Emily had not noticed, and, embarrassed, she followed him like a lamb to slaughter, she realized later…much later…

‘For heaven’s sake, Emily, will you stop devouring that disgusting fry-up—it is turning my stomach—and listen to me,’ Helen declared. ‘You have to put the poor man out of his misery and have dinner with him. He has sent you roses every single day and the housekeeper is fed up with taking his phone calls. The house is overflowing with blooms and in my pregnant state I might very well get hay fever.’

Emily popped the last bit of fried egg into her mouth, chewed, then grinned at her sister-in-law. ‘You know the solution—I told you to throw the flowers away. I’m not interested.’

‘Liar—the woman is not born who would not fancy Anton Diaz. Your trouble is you’re afraid to get involved after the hateful Nigel. You haven’t dated any man for more than a couple of weeks in years.’

‘Moi ?’ Emily quipped, placing a hand on her heart. ‘I am not afraid of anyone, but I know a devil when I see one, and Anton Diaz is not the kind of man any sensible woman would ever get involved with.’

‘Forget the sensible, and live a little. You’re at home for the next few months and your research at the museum does not take more than a couple of days a week. It is spring, when a young woman’s fancy turns to love.’

‘A young man’s fancy, you mean, and Anton Diaz is no young man,’ Emily responded dryly.

‘So what if he is a dozen or more years older than you? You have plenty of spare time and a wild passionate affair with an experienced man would do you the world of good.’

‘I don’t think so, and I have no time right now. I am going to view another apartment today,’ Emily said, hoping to change the subject, because the subject of Anton Diaz had taken up a great deal of her waking thoughts since the night she had met him. His phone calls she had refused after the first day as just the sound of his deep accented voice made her temperature rise and her whole body blush; the daily roses she could do nothing about.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Emily, forget about buying an apartment. It’s a stupid idea. This is your family home, has been for generations since the first Fairfax made his fortune as a coal baron in the nineteenth century, and it is big enough for all of us and half a dozen more.’

Helen rolled her eyes around the spacious breakfast room of the ten-bedroomed double-fronted Georgian house in the heart of Kensington. ‘I would hate it if you left and you would hate living on your own. Admit it. And you might as well admit you fancy Anton Diaz something rotten. I have seen the way you try not to blush every time his name is mentioned. You can’t fool me.’

Emily groaned. ‘Your trouble is, Helen, you know me far too well.’ She rose to her feet and smiled wryly down at her sister-in-law. ‘I am still going to look at the apartment, though. After all, if I am going to have a wild, passionate affair I will need a place of my own. I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate my bringing a lover back here where your gorgeous child might see and hear more than she should.’ She grinned.

‘You’re going to do it—you’re going out with the man?’

‘Maybe if Anton calls again and asks me out I will accept. Satisfied?’

‘You will accept what?’ Tom demanded as he walked into the room, with his daughter in his arms.

‘Emily is going out with Anton Diaz,’ Helen declared.

‘Is that wise, sis?’ he asked Emily, his blue eyes serious as they rested on her. ‘He is a hell of a lot older than you. Are you sure you know what you are doing? Don’t get me wrong, he is a great guy and his business knowledge is second to none—his input and advice to Fairfax Engineering has been exceptional. But he is the type of man that makes other men want to lock up their wives and daughters. The man definitely lives in the fast lane and has a poor track record with women.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘Much as I love you two, you should work at coordinating your opinions and advice.’ And, grinning, she walked out.

Fate, kismet, whatever it was, but as she entered the hall the telephone rang and she answered. Anton…

‘You’re a very hard lady to get hold of, Emily. But I like a challenge. Have dinner with me tonight?’

So, she did what she had wanted to do for days and said yes…

Emily viewed the apartment and decided against it. Then spent the rest of the morning at the museum, and the afternoon shopping for a new dress.

Emily smiled, happy with her reflection in the mirror, and, straightening her shoulders, she picked up her dark blue wrap and matching purse from the bed and left the room. She was nervous, butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, but none of her inner emotions showed as she opened the drawing-room door and walked in. Anton Diaz was picking her up at seven and it was ten to.

‘Well, Helen, will I do?’ She smiled at her sister-in-law reclining on a sofa, a glass of juice in her hand, and saw the embarrassed expression on her face just as a deep dark voice responded.

‘You look beautiful, Emily.’

Emily turned her head, her eyes widening as Anton walked towards her from the far side of the room, Tom trailing in his wake.

‘Thank you.’ She accepted the compliment politely, but it was an effort. She had thought he looked dangerous dressed as a dark angel, but in a perfectly tailored light grey suit with a white shirt and silk tie he looked gorgeous. ‘You’re early,’ she added, raising her eyes to his face. He had stopped barely a foot from her, and his dark gaze slid slowly over her from head to toe, then he lifted his eyes to hers and what she saw in the smouldering black depths made the breath catch in her throat.

For the second time in a week Anton Diaz could not control his instant arousal at the sight of a woman. He had seen a photo of Emily in baggy clothes, and seen her in a very sexy latex suit with her hair down. But the Emily who stood before him now was something else again. She was the personification of sophisticated elegance.

Her blonde hair was swept up into a knot on top of her head, her make-up understated, but perfect. Her big blue eyes were accentuated even more by the clever use of cosmetics, her full lips a soft glossy rose. As for her gown, it was designer; he had bought enough over the years to know. Ice-blue to match her eyes, it was cut on the bias, the bodice, supported by slight straps, clung faithfully to her high firm breasts and subtly shaped her narrow waist and hips to flare ever so slightly a few inches from the hem that ended on her knees. Not too short to appear tacky, but short enough for a man to fantasize about slipping his hand beneath it.

‘Beautiful does not do you justice—you look exquisite, Emily. I will be the envy of every man in the restaurant.’ Reaching for a cashmere wrap that she held in her hand, he gently took it and slipped it over her shoulders. ‘Shall we go?’

It was definitely going to be no hardship to bed the lovely Emily, the finer details of when and where were all he had to decide on, he thought as he battled to control his libido.

Amazingly, Tom Fairfax, despite his usual easygoing nature, had taken him to one side when he had arrived and told him quite seriously he expected Anton to behave himself with Emily and return her home at a reasonable hour. No one had attempted to tell him what to do in years, if ever, and he had been too stunned to reply when Emily had walked into the room.

He could understand the man’s concern, but it simply reminded him that he had been unable to take care of his own sister, and the memory cooled his wayward body in an instant.

Emily was too flustered to do more than take the hand Anton offered her. She felt his hand tighten on hers, and caught a flicker of some strange emotion in his dark eyes, gone as he turned and said goodnight to Tom and Helen.

He opened the passenger door of a silver Bentley and ushered her inside. She watched as he walked around the bonnet and slid behind the wheel. He glanced at her, one brow arched enquiringly, and she realized she was staring like a besotted fool.

‘Where are you taking me?’ She blurted the first thing that came into her head.

He chuckled a deep dark sound. ‘To dinner, Emily.’ Slipping a hand around her neck, he tilted her face to his dark eyes dancing with amusement. ‘But ultimately to my bed.’

His provocative statement had her lips parting in a shocked gasp, and Anton’s mouth covered them, firm, warm and tender. Her lips tingled and trembled as his hand trailed around her throat, his fingers curving around her small chin to hold her firm as the tip of his tongue sought hers with an eroticism that ignited a sudden warmth deep inside her. Her eyes closed and her hands slid up to clasp his nape, her fingers trailing involuntarily into the silken blackness of his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue probing the moist interior of her mouth, and the slow-burning heat ignited into flame.