“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said, his dark eyes glinting with determination.
She swallowed a sigh. “I’ll see you then,” she said, and turned.
“One other thing,” he said, and she turned back around.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been asked to review a property in South Beach that MD wants to purchase.”
She nodded. “Yes?”
“You and I are going there next week to review the property in person,” he said, as if he was informing her that she would be joining him at a business luncheon in a diner.
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You need to call my private jet. We’ll leave on Wednesday and return on Sunday. I’ll make the hotel reservations under a different name so they won’t know they’re being observed.”
She nodded, stunned by the news, but determined to keep her composure. “Okay. You’ll give me the number,” she said. “For your private jet?”
He scribbled it on a piece of paper and handed it to her. “There it is. Pack like a tourist. Swimsuits, dresses. No business attire required.” He handed her a credit card. “Buy everything you need and put it on my card.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I have dresses. I have a swimsuit,” she said, remembering she’d bought one at a discount store three years ago…or was it four?
“We’re going in disguise,” he said. “I’ll book adjoining suites, but we’ll be a couple. Use my card. I want you to dress the part. Dress like my woman would.”
Six
Although she’d bought it on sale, Emma spent more than she would have preferred on a black full-length gown with a discreet halter top that plunged in the back. Stepping into kitten-heel sandals, she grabbed the small beaded clutch she’d bought at her favorite thrift store and checked the mirror once more. With smoky eyes, shiny lip gloss and her hair swinging free to her shoulders, she almost didn’t recognize herself. She looked almost glamorous.
She hoped she didn’t look as if she were trying too hard. For the fifth time, she thought about ditching the dress, scrubbing off her makeup and calling in sick. Calling in sick, however, was something she’d never done in her life, and she refused to start now.
The doorbell rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she walked to the door and opened it. She looked at Damien, dark and dangerous in a black tux. The breath she’d just taken stuck in her throat.
He seemed taller, she thought, and the way he looked at her made her stomach dip and sway.
“You look beautiful,” he said, extending his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, reluctant to take his hand, fearing she might get burned just by the sensation of his skin on hers. Crazy, she thought, and took his hand. “You look very nice, too,” she said in a brisk tone that sounded at odds with her compliment, even to herself.
She was thankful the sun was still shining to help her ward off any forbidden fantasies her mind might conjure. She blinked at the sight of a driver holding the door to a limo. “I didn’t expect—”
“I couldn’t have you crawling out of a Ferrari when you’re dressed for a ball.”
He helped her into the limo and followed her inside.
“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling like Cinderella. She’d ridden in a limo before, but she’d been taking notes from Alex Megalos during the drive.
“Something to drink?” he asked, waving his hand toward the bar.
“Oh, no, thank you,” she said and took another deep breath, inhaling a hint of his cologne. The silence inside the limo was deafening. She supposed she should try to make small talk, but she was too aware of the fact that his thigh was mere inches from hers.
“Have you had a chance to go shopping for our trip?” he asked, adjusting one of the cuffs of his shirt.
Distracted by the contrast of his white shirt against his tanned skin, she again noticed the bandage around his hand. “How is your hand?”
“I don’t pay much attention to it. The stitches will be out next week.”
“Good,” she said.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said with a hint of amusement in his deep voice.
She met his gaze. “Shopping,” she echoed and shook her head. “No. I haven’t had a chance. Maybe tomorrow.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” he said.
“I’m not comfortable using company money for my wardrobe, especially when I know job cuts are on the way.”
“It’s not Megalos-De Luca money. It’s my company’s money, and trust me, we’re not hurting.” He shook his head. “I’m surprised. Most women would jump at the chance.”
Most women weren’t her. “With my background, being thrifty was necessary for my survival. You should understand that from your own experiences.”
“True,” he said. “But I can loosen the purse strings when necessary.”
“I’m definitely not at your level and I always feel as if I need to be prepared—” She broke off, not wanting to reveal the rest.
“Prepared for what?” he asked.
“The worst,” she said.
He nodded. “Something we have in common. Who knows,” he said, his gaze falling over her with sensual curiosity. “There may be more.”
As Emma and Damien entered the grand ballroom at the casino, Emma caught the expression of shock and confusion on Mallory’s face.
“Emma,” Alex Megalos’s wife said, clearly searching for words.
“Hi, Mallory. Have you met Damien? He’s working for Megalos-De Luca. Apparently he hasn’t had a chance to get out much since he’s been in Vegas, so he asked if he could come with me and drop a bundle at the gala tonight.”
Mallory blinked, still confused, but game. “How generous of you, Mr. Medici. You may not remember me. I’m—”
“How could I forget you,” Damien said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. “You are the enchanting wife of Alex Megalos.”
Mallory smiled, but she didn’t appear to buy his charm. “Thank you. And thank you for contributing to the success of our charity gala tonight. Your donation will mean a lot to us. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Emma for a bit. We have some last-minute tasks,” she said and grabbed Emma’s hand.
“Just make sure you return her to me,” he said, looking at Emma.
“Oh, count on it,” Mallory said and pulled Emma away.
Mallory dragged Emma across the ballroom and into a back room. She pushed Emma against the wall, her eyes wide with consternation. “What the—”
“He insisted on joining me. I’d just been in Alex’s office telling him—” She shrugged “—giving a report and Mr. Medici showed up at the elevator just as I was leaving. I tried to discourage him, but no luck.”
Mallory shook her head. “Wow. Do you think he’s interested in you?”
“Oh, no,” Emma said, feeling herself grow warm. “I’m sure he’s got another agenda. He’s that kind of man,” she said, giving voice to what was always in the back of her mind.
Mallory’s eyebrows shot upward. “Sounds like you’re getting to know him pretty well.”
Emma winced. “Not really. Not as much as I’m supposed—” She broke off again, because she didn’t know how much Alex had told his sweet bride. “So,” she said as brightly as she could. “Tell me how I can help.”
Mallory frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Emma said, quickly composing herself. She wondered why it was so easy with Mallory and so difficult with Damien. “Are you?”
Mallory gave a start. “Well, yes. So how was your date last week?”
“He was very nice.”
Mallory’s face fell. “Okay, I get your message. We’ll move along to bachelor number two. Is next Tuesday good?”
“Let’s try the week after. Next week is busy for me,” she said, her heart skipping a beat when she thought about the trip to Miami. Should she tell Max or Alex? Why did she feel so conflicted? Emma shook off her craziness. “I’m waiting. How can I help?”
Mallory paused for a moment, then nodded. “We got some last-minute big rollers and they’ve totally messed up my seating arrangements. Help.”
Emma smiled. Now she was on familiar ground. “Give me the list.”
Damien took a seat at the bar and ordered a scotch. Struck by the sumptuous luxury of the ballroom, he couldn’t help remembering that lean time when he’d been declared an independent child and lived hand to mouth. Even before his father had died, his family had never been wealthy. They’d never owned their own home.
He caught sight of an advertisement on the wall for Megalos-De Luca proudly announcing their charitable contributions and felt bitterness roil through him like acid. The irony of the De Luca family being the least bit connected to anything charitable was a joke.
When Damien thought about how the De Lucas had cheated his grandfather out of the Medicis’ beloved estate, the fire roared inside him again. The once solid family had scattered, and were still scattered. One of his uncles had committed suicide, an aunt betrothed to a prince had been dumped. Children had been orphaned. Someone had to make this right. That someone was him.
Emma caught his eye as she passed him by. She glided with confidence through the ballroom and smiled at the waitstaff in a much friendlier, more open way than she did him. That fact stuck in his craw. He wondered what it would be like if she were that open with him. He felt an odd growl in his gut and watched her through narrowed eyes. Why should it bother him?
He would have her. In every way a man could have a woman, he was determined to have her, and he would. He took another swallow of whiskey and felt the burn all the way down. Not only would she give him herself, she would give him all the information he wanted to make Max De Luca pay.