‘A gift?’ Emma strove for an insouciant tone. She already wore a new wedding band and a stunning gold filigree and diamond engagement ring. The latter was beautiful but felt like a brand of ownership. ‘Not divorce papers, by any chance?’
One coal black eyebrow rose in a look that should have been annoyingly superior but, in her flustered state, seemed appallingly sexy.
Emma shut her eyes, praying for strength. This physical infatuation was supposed to disintegrate the longer she was exposed to him, not intensify.
‘Emma?’ The low burr of his voice rippled to her womb.
Opening her eyes, she fixed her gaze near his bow tie. But that was a mistake because above it was that oh-so-masculine jaw and stern chin with just a hint of an intriguing cleft.
‘Are you all right?’
Surprised at his concern, Emma jerked her eyes up to his. A mistake, for she was instantly captured by a steely stare that this time seemed softer, like dawn mist over mountains.
* * *
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’
Christo read doubt behind the defiance in her fine eyes and felt protectiveness stir. He knew how tough it could be to maintain a smiling façade when in private all was turmoil. But he’d had a lifetime to master the art. He’d plucked Emma from the shelter of her home and thrust her into his world. He owed her his support.
‘How about a truce for tonight? I’ll keep the wolves at bay. All you need to do is smile and follow my lead. I’ll look after you.’
Her head tilted to one side. ‘That’s supposed to make me feel better?’
It was a cheap jibe that should have annoyed him. Yet, like the crack about divorce papers, it had the opposite effect. Christo could weather a little snarkiness and he’d developed an appreciation for Emma’s resilience.
Once he’d thought he wanted a quiet, docile wife. Now he discovered he preferred spirit to automatic obedience. Emma’s eyes blazed brilliantly and he was pleased to see there was colour in her cheeks.
When he’d walked in, she’d looked pale. Beautiful, surprisingly so, but a cool stranger.
Even now he was unsettled by that first impression of her, standing like a glamorous stranger in his home. She’d looked sexy, svelte and sophisticated in the strapless fitted dress. He’d known in that instant she’d be accepted without question by his acquaintances and the press, for she had the appearance of so many other women in that milieu. Glossy. Confident. Gorgeous.
Strangely, that knowledge was undercut by disappointment. Even concern. That the Emma he’d begun to discover on Corfu had disappeared.
Tonight was about public perception, yet Christo hated the idea of the real Emma being lost or transformed into just another glamorous socialite.
‘I may not be Prince Charming, but this time you can rely on me. I promise.’
Her gaze snagged on his and something beat hard in his belly. Something more than sexual desire or anticipation about tonight’s performance.
Christo’s breath frayed as he read her expression, saw defiance and annoyance and—could it be yearning?
Abruptly she turned away, as if to leave. ‘Well, I can’t promise this Cinderella won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, but I’ll do my best.’
Relief buzzed through him. Any fear that Emma had been subsumed by her new, sophisticated look died at her words.
‘Wait. Don’t you want your gift?’
‘Gift?’ She was half-turned away, but he saw her frown.
‘For tonight. I want you to shine.’ He withdrew a flat box and held it out to her.
Weird that he actually felt nervous, giving Emma jewellery. As if he hadn’t given girlfriends jewellery before. Only this time it felt imperative that he got it right.
Maybe he was still smarting over the perfunctory glance she’d given the new rings he’d ordered. As if the exquisite filigree work, modelled on ancient designs and studded with flawless diamonds, hadn’t impressed her in the slightest.
Annoyance flared. Christo wasn’t used to questioning his emotions. He held out the leather box and flipped the lid open.
His anger died at Emma’s long sigh of appreciation.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it. What sort of stones are they?’
‘Tourmaline.’ The dark green was richer than emeralds, in his opinion. As soon as Clio had called him to describe Emma’s dress, he’d known what he wanted. Finding it had been another matter. This set had just been flown into Athens for him.
‘They’re stunning. But I don’t wear much jewellery. I don’t want to look—’
‘You’ll look perfect,’ Christo urged. Why wasn’t he surprised that Emma, of all the women he’d known, should hesitate to accept beautiful jewels? ‘Everyone will expect you to wear something spectacular. I’m supposed to be doting on you, remember?’
He watched as his words had their inevitable effect, cutting through her hesitation and stiffening her spine. For a second he regretted the loss of that misty smile of wonder on Emma’s face. But, as she put on the long tourmaline and diamond eardrops, he was too busy maintaining his expression of gentle teasing when everything inside turned hot and urgent.
The elegant Art Deco style earrings swung against her slender throat. The colour intensified the green in her hazel eyes, making them glow.
Or was that something else in her expression?
Need pulsed through him. Not the need to put an end to public gossip, but the need to haul his pretty wife close and bury his face in the scented hollow of her pale throat. To smash down the barriers between them and make love to her.
‘Now the necklace.’ His voice hit a gravelly note.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It would be too much. On some other woman maybe, but not me. I’m not...’
The furrow of uncertainty in Emma’s brow cut through his libidinous thoughts.
‘Not what?’
Emma looked away and he sensed she was going to prevaricate. Then, instead, she shrugged and met his eye. ‘I’m not a model or a sophisticate. I’m not...’ Again that telling pause. ‘Gorgeous and glamorous.’
Christo heard the hitch of her breath and realised that despite her defiant stare, as if daring him to judge her, Emma really couldn’t see her own attractiveness.
But then, he hadn’t in the beginning. Originally he’d thought her pretty and charming, but not in a league with the beauties he knew. Somewhere along the line, though, Christo had come to appreciate his wife’s character and fire, her unique beauty.
‘Who’d want a model?’ he murmured, stroking a fingertip down her cheek. ‘Most of them are scrawny and too afraid to enjoy a proper meal.’ He paused, holding her eyes. ‘You’re beautiful, Emma. I defy any woman tonight to outshine you.’
Her eyes widened and a flush rose up her throat and into her cheeks. She swung away. ‘Don’t lie, Christo.’ Her voice sounded muffled, twisting something in his belly. ‘I’ve had enough lies from you to last a lifetime.’
Stymied, Christo stared at her profile, proud and, he realised, hurt. He was damned if he told the truth about her beauty and damned if he didn’t. He should drop the subject, yet he was reluctant to leave it.
Emma hadn’t struck him as a woman with hang-ups about her looks. Then memory pierced him. She’d admitted some time ago that she’d heard his conversation with Damen about why he’d married her. He recalled saying she wasn’t his type. That her cousin was more his style, sexy and flamboyant.
Christo dragged in a slow breath, battling self-loathing. He plucked the necklace from the case and stepped behind his wife. Carefully he draped it around her neck, feeling her shiver as his hands brushed her nape. His own hands were unsteady. From the thwarted lust that had stalked him for weeks, or something else?
The clasp closed, he palmed her bare shoulders, fingers splaying across warm, satiny skin, and turned her to face the mirror.
‘Look.’
Her chin jerked up, her narrowed eyes meeting his in the mirror.
/> ‘Not at me.’ He let his gaze drift over the woman before him. ‘You’re stunning, Emma.’ And it wasn’t just because of the magnificent tourmaline and diamond collar around her slender throat. It was because of the woman who stood before him, trembling but as stiff as a soldier on parade.
* * *
Emma’s eyes locked on the reflection of the man behind her as she battled not to lean back against all that delicious heat.
Christo Karides had treated her appallingly. He’d used her for his own advantage. Yet sometimes, like tonight, she fought to remember he was the enemy. He seemed too much like the caring lover she’d once believed him to be.
Take the expression in his eyes. Despite his stern tone, his eyes caressed her, made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. It wasn’t the glaze of sexual possessiveness she’d seen in the past but something more tender.
Her thoughts terrified her. Hadn’t she learned her lesson, reading emotions and motivations into Christo’s actions that just weren’t there?
She made to pull away but his hands stopped her. Not because his grip was hard, but because at that very moment those long fingers swept wide over the bare curve of her shoulders, massaging gently.
‘Look, Emma.’ His voice was soft.
Oh, she was looking. Her gaze swept from those broad shoulders to that solid jaw, past the tiny nick of a scar to his mobile mouth. Then up that decisive nose to eyes that glowed the colour of the sky at dusk.
Emma dragged in an abrupt breath and found herself inhaling that heady signature of cedar, leather and spice with that underlying note of male skin.
The scent shot to her brain, and her womb, and suddenly Emma wasn’t looking just at Christo but at the pair of them. He with his hands on her body, she canting back towards him as if drawn to a magnet.
Suddenly she saw herself as others would. Wearing couture clothes and fabulous gems because Christo Karides demanded the best. A swift glance confirmed what she’d seen before. The makeover turned her into someone else. Someone glossy enough to match a billionaire, if only for an evening.
Heart hammering, Emma broke away. Tonight she’d play the doting bride and counter any negative press stories. But she’d be herself, not some puppet on a string dancing to Christo’s tune. If he didn’t like that, then that was entirely his problem.
CHAPTER NINE
CHRISTO COUNTED THE final items to be auctioned as the charity event drew to a close. Only half a dozen more.
He set his jaw and concentrated on keeping his touch light as he drew his fingertips across the soft skin of Emma’s shoulder. She leaned close, her tantalising honey scent teasing his nostrils. The press of her hip on the seat next to his and the rounded contour of her breast against his side stirred a libido already at breaking point.
Telling himself she only did it to play the besotted bride didn’t help. His body didn’t care about her motivations, just the imprint of her warm curves and how much closer they could get once they left here.
No one bid on the next item. Christo frowned at the delay as Emma turned from speaking to the entrepreneur sitting on her other side and eased back into his embrace.
Fire stormed through his body, drenching him in heat.
Still no bids. Christo raised his hand, nodding to the auctioneer, who beamed back. It was past time they moved on to the final items and ended this. The event had dragged intolerably.
It had begun well enough. Emma had played her part admirably, sticking by his side and not flinching when he pulled her close. The fact she trembled when he did, Christo read as a positive sign. Emma had always been responsive to him and that hadn’t changed. Did she know her body’s reaction gave her away every time?
She’d been an enormous hit with his acquaintances. Far from being a shy mouse, she’d been quietly assured, conversing easily with everyone. She had the knack of drawing people out, truly listening to what they had to say and keeping the conversation rolling, even when it wasn’t about her. She’d been everything he could have hoped for and more. As well as being articulate and sociable, she was...nice.
It seemed such a paltry word. But to Christo, having grown up in a world where appearances were everything, where trust was rare and self-interest dominated, Emma’s sweet honesty and generous spirit felt precious.
He wasn’t the only one to think so. All night he’d been congratulated and envied. In fact, he’d noted a few guys considering her a little too warmly. Till Christo had warned them off with a speaking stare.
Now he was heartily sick of the crowd. Of being congratulated on his lovely bride when that bride still kept her guard up against him. When this nearness was for show and she’d re-erect the barriers between them as soon as they were alone.
He wanted more. Much more.
He wanted his wife. Frustration grew with every minute and every brush of his hand against silky bare skin.
‘You’re bidding? I didn’t think you’d be interested in this item.’ Emma sounded surprised and he shrugged, willing the auctioneer to hurry.
‘It’s an important cause and no one else was bidding.’
Finally someone else did. The auctioneer caught Christo’s eye and he read a mix of doubt and expectancy that indicated the man would drag this out in the hope of securing a much bigger profit. So much for Christo’s scheme to end this quickly.
Supressing a sigh, he raised his hand and made a bid calculated to win. Whispers rippled around the room.
The auctioneer looked stunned, but recovered quickly to ask for more bids. There were none. Christo’s price was too high for anyone else.
With a slam of the gavel, bidding closed.
Five more items to go. Christo stretched his legs and tried to stifle his impatience. Emma moved, her body twisting against his, and the molten heat through his lower body turned to forged steel. His skin felt too tight and his lungs cramped.
‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘Sorry?’ He turned to meet her eyes and felt the pause in her breathing as their gazes meshed.
Oh, yes. This desire was definitely mutual. She couldn’t conceal the minute, give-away proof of her body’s reaction to his.
All the more reason to get out of here as soon as possible and persuade her to put an end to this intolerable sexual frustration.
‘The prize. Are you going to use it?’
Despite the confusion in Emma’s expression, Christo read the glaze of heat in her eyes. Anticipation slammed into him. Tonight the waiting would end.
Strange to think that originally he’d viewed her as passably pretty. Merely a convenient spouse. She was anything but convenient and far, far beyond merely passable. Had he ever wanted a woman like this?
‘Christo?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Suspicion dawned in her fine eyes. The corner of her mouth curved into the tiniest hint of amusement. Christo’s gaze locked on those glossy lips that had driven him to distraction all night.
Emma leaned close, her words whispering heat across his face as she murmured, ‘You do know what you bought, don’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘I was more interested in helping them get through the programme quickly.’
Her breath hitched, her eyes widened and then she was laughing. The sound brought an answering smile to his mouth and an intense feeling of wellbeing. But at the same time that husky chuckle curled around his belly like a lasso, drawing tense nerves even tighter.
Beyond Emma heads turned. People leaned forward to hear the joke but she was totally focused on him. Just the way he liked her.
‘That’s very noble of you.’ Still she smiled. No shadows in her expression now, just mirth and approval.
Christo was surprised at how good it felt when Emma looked at him that way. With shared understanding and humour.
‘Don’t you want to know what you spent all that money on?’
He shrugged. ‘A car?’ There’d been a sports car coming up for auction. When she shook her head he tried again. ‘
A boat?’ Not that he needed another cruiser.
Emma shook her head, amusement and approval continuing to dance in her eyes. It struck him he could get used to her approval. It made him feel good.
‘So, enlighten me, Emma.’ His voice slowed on her name, savouring it. Or, more correctly, savouring the flicker of awareness in those bright eyes that shone tonight more green than brown.
She tilted her head down, whether to keep their conversation private or to avoid his eyes, he couldn’t tell. ‘An all-expenses-paid trip for a family of four to France, including a couple of days at Euro Disney.’ Abruptly she looked up, her eyebrows rising. ‘Are you excited to go on all the rides?’
* * *
His laughter shouldn’t affect her like this. As if he’d turned her insides to melted caramel and added a huge dollop of sexual desire.
People laughed all the time. But Christo’s deep, uninhibited chuckle affected her in the strangest way.
Not so strange. You’ve lusted after him all night.
All night? Far longer!
Just because he could afford to donate a small fortune to a children’s charity didn’t make him a decent man. Just as his smile didn’t make him any less dangerous.
But it was hard to keep him in a box marked ‘ogre’ or ‘blackmailer’ when she saw him like this. Or head down with Anthea, working together on a crayon drawing.
Emma released a silent sigh and felt another layer of her defences slip away.
Face it. You’ve enjoyed being with him tonight. You like snuggling up against him, feeling his arm around you.
You like the admiration in his eyes.
Even if the admiration was for a glossy façade that wasn’t the real Emma. Underneath the couture gown and priceless gems she was the same as always—ordinary. No makeover could change that.
‘Hey.’ A warm finger curled under her chin, tilting her face up. ‘What’s wrong?’
For the briefest moment, Emma contemplated telling her husband the truth. That she still cared for him despite her attempts not to. That part of her wanted him to care for her, not because she brushed up well enough to attend a gala social event but because he found her interesting, because he liked her for who she really was.
Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8 Page 26