The Argentinian's Demand

He didn’t turn around when she walked up behind him.

‘Everything okay?’

Leandro turned slowly to look at her. He had changed into casual clothes and had his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hair was still damp and was swept back from his face.

‘There’s a guy who works for me,’ Leandro said expressionlessly. ‘His name’s Alberto. I use him when I want sensitive information unearthed. He’s not high-profile in the company but he’s a key member of my team and he’s very good at what he does.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because I had him do a few background checks on your ex-fiancé...’

‘You did what...?’ Emily made her way to a chair and sat heavily.

‘Well might you look as white as a ghost.’

‘You had no right!’

‘You’re my woman. I had every right, considering the circumstances surrounding this relationship of ours, and I can tell that you’re just dying to find out what my private investigator told me... Or maybe you have an idea... Yes, I’m guessing you do have an idea...’

‘I know you’re going to jump to all the wrong conclusions,’ Emily muttered.

‘I’ve heard of marrying for security, Emily, but you really take the biscuit, don’t you?’

His voice was neutral but he could feel pure rage coursing through his veins like poison. This was the woman who had obsessed him to such an extent that he had actually considered going on holiday with her! A woman who had cast such a powerful spell that for the first time in his life work had become a secondary consideration! He had spent so long thinking with the wrong part of his body that the reality of what had been happening under his nose was a bitter pill to swallow.

Even worse was the fact that as she sat there, staring up at him with those big cornflower-blue eyes, his body was still letting him down!

‘I finally understand why you did what you did. Why you launched yourself into a relationship with me when there was some sad sack in the background, waiting for you to show up at the aisle. Because a gay husband doesn’t require fidelity, does he?’

Emily shook her head mutely.

‘You were marrying your gay friend because you felt safe with him. Your father had instilled in you a belief that you were never to trust a man, but you could trust a man who would never take advantage of you. You could marry someone for affection because it was better than never getting married. Oh, and of course he came with a hefty bank balance... Maybe you figured that you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life working hard but still never really being able to afford the best. Maybe you thought that a rich guy who could never threaten you on the physical front, who could never touch you enough to hurt you, was worth the sacrifice...’

Emily, her head lowered, didn’t say anything. This was her big chance to fill in the missing blanks in the picture he was painting, but what would be the point? This wasn’t a committed relationship in which she would fight for him. This was a one-sided relationship which was always going to see her being the mug who got hurt.

And he had got so much right, at any rate...

‘So?’ Leandro prompted impatiently. ‘Have you nothing to say?’

He raked frustrated fingers through his hair and glowered at her from a distance. Naturally what they had was well and truly over, but the thought of her exiting in a shroud of silence filled him with impotent rage.

‘Shall I continue telling you what I think the ending to this story is?’ he thundered, making her jump and forcing her to look at him as he strode towards her and planted himself directly in her line of vision.

‘Do I have a choice?’

Leandro turned away. He could feel her, and it put him off his stride. Now was not the time to have any lapses in concentration.

‘I think you figured that you could dump the security and hang on to me for as long as you could. You know from first-hand experience how generous I am with my lovers...’

Emily’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him in dismay. ‘That’s crazy,’ she said, flabbergasted at his leapfrogging of information to reach the wrong conclusions.

And yet, how could she blame him? Her behaviour had not been straightforward. She had given him half-truths and the fewest possible details about Oliver she had been able to get away with. Naturally she had known what he would think had he discovered that her intended groom was gay—what anyone would think—and so she had concealed that small but glaringly important detail. How could she have said anything?

She looked at him helplessly and her blue eyes tangled with his hostile, cold, dark ones.

‘I would never use...’

Wouldn’t she? Use someone for money? Hadn’t she done just that with Oliver? And even if it was by mutual agreement, did that make the slightest difference?

‘I think I should go.’ She hovered for the briefest of moments, willing him to beg her to stay. As if he would!

‘Is that it?’ Leandro heard the edge of what sounded like fury and frustration in his voice and hated the vulnerability that came with it.

‘I’m not after your money.’

‘Oh, please. I should have seen the warning signs. I once nearly got sucked in by someone of your kind—someone who did such a damn good job of pretending that I was almost conned into believing the woman wasn’t a gold-digger. To think I was nearly had again. The big blue eyes and the trembling mouth aren’t going to cut it, darling. You can tell me till you’re blue in the face that you weren’t with me for the money—with sex, I’m sure, a nice bonus on the side—but face it... You don’t deny that you were planning on marrying a guy who could never have fulfilled you physically because it was convenient...because he came with a nice, convenient bank balance...’

‘Sometimes we do things that we may not particularly have mapped out for ourselves when we were young and idealistic...’

‘You’re still young!’

‘But I dumped the ideals a long time ago!’

If only. She hadn’t, had she? No, they had all been waiting there for the right guy to come along and turn her world upside down... For the right guy to hurt her.

She turned away, trembling. ‘I’ll go now,’ she said stiffly.

Surprised, she realised that her hands were balled into tightly clenched fists and she slowly relaxed them and flexed her fingers.

‘I don’t want you to think the worst of me.’ The plea was wrenched out of her.

‘Then why don’t you try telling me something to prevent that from happening!’ Leandro stared at her and then flung his hands up in a gesture of enraged dismissal. ‘I thought not! Well, Emily, it was always going to end. And you know where the door is...’

CHAPTER TEN

LEANDRO HEARD THE doorbell through a haze of too much alcohol. He had always made it a rule never to drink beyond a certain amount. He had been to far too many client events where the champagne had flowed and things had been said and done that were regretted in the cold light of day.

But five minutes after she had walked out of his house the bottle of wine had suddenly become his best friend.

He groggily looked at his watch, registering that it was after midnight and that he was still slumped in the chair in the sitting room where he had been for several hours, bar a couple of essential trips to the bathroom.

He heard the doorbell again, finger-on-buzzer-not-stopping-till-you-get-this style, and swore softly under his breath.

Emily. Who else? For a few seconds he contemplated not getting it, because there was nothing she had to say to him that could possibly alter his opinion of her. Nothing at all.

But he’d spent the past few hours drowning something or other in a bottle and why shouldn’t she see it? He’d probably feel a damn sight better if he really offloaded on her! Really told her exactly what he thought about someone who had played him for a fool. He’d thought he could never be had again. He’d been wrong. Wouldn’t it feel good to vent that anger and frustration?

He walked in a fairly straight line and yanked open the front door.

Emily, having chewed over the way they had parted company and made the brave decision to return to his house, stared at him in surprise.

‘Are you drunk?’

His hair looked as though he had run his fingers through it a million times and his shirt was hanging loose over the waistband of his trousers. He was barefoot.

‘What are you doing here?’

Was he posturing? Defensive? Neither option was cool and he scowled at her, noting in passing that she looked as fresh as a daisy despite the lateness of the hour.

‘And how did you get here anyway?’ He squinted to see if he could make out a taxi and couldn’t.

‘Tube and foot.’

‘That’s bloody crazy,’ Leandro growled.

‘Not as crazy...’ Emily took a deep, fortifying breath and looked at him without blinking. ‘Not as crazy as if I were to head back home by tube and foot, because there was a group of drunken teenagers outside the station, but that’s what I’ll do if you don’t let me in.’