‘Yes.’
‘Then I would love to know your source. I was under the impression that it was a highly guarded secret.’
‘A gentleman does not kiss and tell, Mr Bartlett.’
‘I would hope that you have been kissing no one other than your fiancée, Mr Arcuri.’
‘I assure you that is most definitely the case,’ he said, trying to ignore the way Emma was watching him. ‘As to how this information was uncovered—I assure you that it was not from any party related to your business.’
Antonio knew there was enough weight in his tone to indicate that the leak had come from the only other person involved in the negotiations. His father. It was exactly as Antonio had intended.
‘I must say I am surprised,’ Bartlett pressed, refusing to rise to the bait, ‘that a man such as yourself—a man with a reputation for ruthlessness—would want to invest in my business.’
‘You have a quite remarkable heritage brand, Mr Bartlett, one that any investor would be lucky to be involved with. And ever since I began my relationship with Emma I have been motivated to make more...holistic business decisions.’
‘Your relationship is quite recent?’
‘Emma has been with me for eighteen months, and during that time I have come to realise what a wonderful woman she is,’ he said, this time unable not to look at the woman in question—unable to take his eyes from the faint blush that rose to her cheeks. ‘She is kind, caring and compassionate, Mr Bartlett, and I am sure you will discover that yourself, should you choose to meet in Buenos Aires and discuss things further.’
There was a pause on the line.
‘As you are aware that I am looking for investment, I am sure you are also aware that your father is the only other petitioner in the matter?’
‘Surely whether I am aware or not is incidental? Having two people determined to win investment into your company can only be a good thing for you.’
‘I appreciate that, Mr Arcuri, but I refuse to allow this to turn into a circus. I have my reasons for wanting to keep this investment opportunity quiet, and if I am to meet with you in Buenos Aires then I want your assurance that it will remain the case.’
‘I promise you, Mr Bartlett, that no one will hear about this matter from me, or anyone connected with me.’
‘Good. Then I look forward to meeting both you and Ms Guilham in Argentina. But I warn you, Antonio, your father’s offer is good. You’ll have to do something pretty spectacular to rival it.’
Antonio let Bartlett’s warning settle in his mind as he finished the call. He gathered his thoughts, and was curious as to what Emma had taken away from the conversation.
‘So...?’
‘I think you are going to have to work hard to win his approval,’ she replied grimly.
Bartlett’s warning was irrelevant, he told himself. Antonio had waited sixteen years for this. Sixteen years to take his father down for destroying his home and his family.
He would do whatever it took to ensure it.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMMA WAS ROUSED from her sleep as the limousine pulled up to The Excelsus hotel in Buenos Aires and she wished she had managed to stay awake. The view from the plane as it had descended into Argentina had promised a stunning and wonderful place that she’d only ever had an internet connection to. Having booked Antonio’s travel itinerary there a number of times, Emma had been eager to see it for herself.
She’d been captivated by the tall, gleaming structures that reached into the sky, surrounded by a harbour of sand and sea, with twinkling with promise and excitement in the morning light, and she was sad that she had slept through the journey the waiting limousine had taken once they had made their way through the sleek airport hallways.
As she got out of the car, surprising both the driver and Antonio—clearly she had been expected to wait for the door to be opened for her—she was hit by an almost cold wind, the kind that she had come to expect from an English autumn. Remembering that Argentina’s coldest winter months took place during June and August, the slight chill in the air made Emma nostalgic for home.
When Antonio failed to emerge from the car, she turned back to catch his gaze through the open door.
‘I’m going on to the stables. You can go on in and rest up in our rooms if you like.’
But Emma didn’t want to go to the hotel. She wanted to see Buenos Aires—wanted to see the grand entrance to the race course and the small lakes she had only seen in internet pictures.
‘I’d like to see the stables,’ she said, but the slight delay in the careless shrug of his response made her realise that she was imposing. That he might want this time to himself.
‘By all means,’ he said, gesturing her to return to the car.