‘You’ve either shocked him into silence or you need to explain more clearly what you mean, Danyl,’ Dimitri said, laughing.
‘Marriage,’ replied Danyl.
‘Just because you’re looking for a wife, it doesn’t mean I have to.’
Everything within Antonio roared an absolute no at the idea. All the women he had encounters with knew the deal—even the Swedish model, though she’d seemed to forget it.
Short term, high hits of sensual pleasure were important to him. He was a virile male, after all, and not one to deny himself sexual satisfaction. But nothing more. He neither wanted nor needed the distraction of anything more permanent.
He washed away his distaste at the very idea of marriage with a hot, strong shot of espresso. He scanned his mind for any examples of a healthy, successful partnership and could not find one. Neither Dimitri nor Danyl had any particular fondness for the institution of marriage themselves, though for Danyl—being the future ruler of Terhren—it had become a considerably more pressing matter.
Their bachelor status was something that the press had latched on to more than once when covering the successes of their Winners’ Circle racing syndicate. And it was certainly something that drew a wealth of beautiful women to their door. Was Antonio ready to consider closing that very door on the one thing aside from his business that he took very seriously?
‘How bad is he really?’ he asked his friends.
‘That board member I mentioned...? He hadn’t even had an affair. It was the rumour that Bartlett objected to.’
‘Perhaps you don’t have to...how do the Americans say it?...eat the whole hog—?’
‘Go, Dimitri. It’s go the whole hog,’ interrupted Danyl.
‘Please—we’re talking about a wife, here. Can we leave out references to eating and hogs?’
‘That’s what I’m saying. Perhaps it doesn’t have to be a wife.’
* * *
Emma had finished filing the quarterly reports, reassured countless staff members that, no, she didn’t think Antonio’s sudden appearance meant staffing cuts, and given consolatory smiles to a number of overly disappointed female employees who had failed to catch sight of Antonio before he’d locked himself in his office for most of the day. She had collated all the information she could on Benjamin Bartlett from initial online searches and saved it to Antonio’s private drive, and finally settled down to eat the lunch she had missed three hours ago.
So, of course, as her mouth was full of avocado and bacon bagel, that was the precise moment Antonio Arcuri chose to appear before her desk. With a demand that took every ounce of her control not to choke on.
‘Emma. I need you to find me a fiancée.’
Emma’s usually focused and quick mind halted in its tracks. Of all the things she’d ever been asked by her notoriously difficult boss, this had to hit the top of the list.
‘Do you have a particular person in mind? Or will anyone do?’
She had finally managed to swallow her mouthful around the shock that threatened to lock her throat in a seized position. And she was hopeful that her voice betrayed none of the sarcasm she felt so deeply, and instead projected only the smooth efficiency she knew Antonio prized so highly.
Emma loved being a personal assistant. She knew there were people who looked down on what they considered a lowly position. But, to Emma, the satisfaction of ensuring that her boss’s day—his life—ran without stumbling blocks was important to her. She liked feeling indispensable. She liked knowing that she was part of something much bigger than she could ever achieve on her own.
And she liked fixing things.
If she was honest, it was because she knew how awful it was not to be able to fix something for herself. How scary and frustrating it could be. Whether it had been her breast cancer or the subsequent breakdown of her parents’ marriage, she had been devastated by the sheer helplessness that she had felt at the time. And, whilst Emma might not have been able to fix the damage to her parents’ marriage in the past, she could certainly help find Antonio
a fiancée in the present.
Antonio pinned her with a gaze that would have removed a certain amount of testosterone from many of his male employees and likely increased the pheromones in the female ones.
‘Was that sarcasm?’
‘No,’ Emma assured him, hoping the painful blush staining her cheeks wouldn’t give her away. ‘I simply wondered if you had your sights set on someone specific.’
‘No,’ he replied, frowning.
‘So...’ She battled on through the oddness of the situation. ‘Do you have any parameters for this search? Wealth, previous marital status, level of attractiveness...?’ She was desperately thinking of a polite way to say bra size when she registered with some surprise Antonio’s confusion. He clearly hadn’t thought this through.
‘Reputation. She must be scandal-free.’