As Antonio exited the limousine and made his way to the private room at the Asquith where Dimitri Kyriakou and Danyl Nejem Al Arain waited, he forced his mind away from the way Ms Guilham’s hips had swayed as she’d walked towards Piccadilly Circus tube station.
With ruthless efficiency he refocused his mind on the Winners’ Circle.
The three men had met as students, and their friendship had been forged in the depths of their darkest moments. Through it all they had supported, commiserated and celebrated with each other. And when, after university, Antonio had needed capital to start his business, Dimitri, Danyl and his maternal grandfather had been his first investors. He had, of course, paid them back with interest, and in half the promised time. But he had never forgotten the debt he owed his friends.
Antonio knew in his heart, in his blood, that he wouldn’t be here today without them. And they would say the same of him. And now, after a year, all three men—each of whom regularly featured in the newspapers as some of the greatest living business figures—would finally be together in the same room again.
As he made his way towards the table in the private dining area a small blonde was hastily leaving, casting him with a frowning glance as she passed.
‘What did I miss?’ Antonio asked, taking in the appearance of his friends.
Wrongful imprisonment had taken its toll on Dimitri, yet his powerful Greek features still turned the heads of any nearby female. And Danyl didn’t need to rely on his royal status as Sheikh in line to the Terhren throne. Brooding intensity radiated from him—as Antonio’s last assistant had remarked.
Only the might of the American legal system had put a halt to their quarterly meetings—the one immovable feature in Antonio’s increasingly full diary. But within the year Dimitri’s innocence had been realised and proclaimed, and now they were finally back together again.
‘A proposition,’ Dimitri replied in response to Antonio’s question.
‘In public? During the day? Gentlemen, you’re putting my scandalous reputation to shame,’ Antonio asserted.
‘A professional proposition,’ growled Danyl through gritted teeth.
‘She—’ nodding to the exit made by the blonde woman ‘—wants to race for the syndicate in the Hanley Cup,’ Dimitri clarified.
‘We have a jockey,’ interjected Danyl.
‘She says she can win all three races.’
Antonio was mildly intrigued. ‘That’s not been done since...’
‘Since her father trained the horse and rider twenty years ago,’ supplied Dimitri.
Antonio’s mind raced through the implications. ‘That was Mason McAulty?’
A rather undignified grunt emerged from Danyl’s direction.
Antonio considered the possibilities...the amount of the winning purse, the attention from the global press. News of their racing syndicate had ebbed and flowed over the years, but no one could argue with the level of their success. Founded shortly after their university days, it had been the perfect venture for three men who loved the high-stakes world of gambling, horseflesh and adrenaline.
Antonio had once been a serious contender for international-level polo, but that had been before Michael Steele’s actions had all but destroyed his family. Biting back the familiar anger that was never far away from his thoughts of the man, Antonio forced his attention back to the proposition.
‘Can she do it?’ he asked.
Dimitri shrugged, but Danyl seemed to be giving it some thought.
‘Most likely,’ he eventually said.
‘I’m in,’ Antonio stated with an innately Italian shrug of his shoulders. If Mason McAulty managed it, the win would be incredible. If she failed... Well, was there any such thing as bad press? Antonio liked the edge that it would place them on. Hell, he practically lived on it.
‘Why not?’ Dimitri said, throwing his hat into the ring.
Danyl nodded almost reluctantly, his lips a grim line of determination. Antonio might not know the source of the furious look Danyl cast towards the exit Mason Mcaulty had left through, but he very much hoped she knew that she was playing with fire.
‘Whisky?’ Dimitri queried as Antonio finally took his seat.
‘Absolutely,’ Antonio replied, relaxing back and drinking in the sight of his friends. ‘It’s good to have you back.’
‘Say that again and I’ll know you’ve gone soft,’ came Dimitri’s terse reply.
‘If I wanted to listen to a bunch of women gossip, I could have stayed at home and visited the harem,’ Danyl concluded.
Antonio scoffed. ‘You don’t have a harem. If you did we’d never see you.’
But instead of relishing the familiar bond he had with his two closest friends, Antonio found his mind returning to the woman he had just decided to make his new PA.
Emma Guilham...