Emily: Sex and Sensibility (The Wilde Sisters 1)

“Marco. Marco, please, please speak to me!

Marco groaned and opened his eyes. Where in hell was he? He was in a kitchen but not his big, blindingly white glass, steel and granite kitchen. This one had a Spanish tile floor, white stucco walls, a stove big enough to roast an ox.

He blinked. And looked into Emily’s beautiful blue eyes. She was kneeling beside him and the sight of her filled his heart with joy.

“Emily,” he whispered, “cara mia.”

“Talk English,” a male voice growled.

He looked up. Four enormous men stood in a semicircle around Emily. Three of them looked alike. Big. Hard. Tough. Angry. The fourth was as big, as hard, as tough but not quite as angry. Was that…

“Khan? What are you—”

“What are you doing here, Santini?”

Marco switched his gaze to the man who had spoken.

“That’s Travis,” Emily whispered. “My brother.”

Marco sat up. He touched his jaw and hissed through his teeth. His jaw hurt like hell.

“He asked you a question,” the second man said.

“That’s Jacob. My brother.”

“Yeah. Answer the question,” the third man growled.

“That’s—”

“Caleb,” Marco said. “Si. I figured that out for myself.”

“Marco.” It was Khan. “Listen, man, I hope you have some answers because I have to tell you, you are in enemy territory.”

“I have answers.”

“I sure as shit hope so,” Jake Wilde snarled.

Marco ignored him. He had eyes only for Emily.

“I have missed you, cara mia,” he said softly. “More than you can ever know.”

“Can that crap,” Travis Wilde said.

“Yeah. Can it,” Caleb Wilde said, “because you’re not saying a word to Emily until you explain yourself to us.”

A muscle knotted in Marco’s cheek. Slowly, carefully, he got to his feet. The room tilted a little but he stood tall and straight as he looked from one Wilde brother to the next.

“I will explain myself to Emily first,” he said quietly. “And then I will deal with the three of you.” He looked at Emily. He wanted to take her in his arms but the look in her eyes told him nothing. Doing the correct thing next was important if he was to win her back. “I love you, Emilia mia.”

“Are you deaf, dude? You need to face us before—”

“I love you with all my heart. With my soul. With all I have been, all I am, all I ever will be.”

Emily’s mouth trembled. With anger? Pain? Or with love?

“I loved you when I let you leave me. I never stopped loving you.” He paused. He knew that what he said next would determine the rest of his life. “I was a fool, sweetheart. You did not lie to me, you lied to the world. About yourself, and why should you have done such a thing when you are the most brilliant, most beautiful woman any man has ever known?”

“Hey. Santini—”