The Argentinian returns...

With a shocking proposal!

Alejandro Sabato, the unforgettable man from Emily Green’s past, has hired the PR executive to redeem his playboy reputation. She suggests he take a convenient wife to show he’s changed. What she doesn’t expect is Alejandro’s insistence that she take on the role! Emily is dangerously aware of the enduring desire still sparking between them. But can she risk her heart again when she’s only a bride on paper?

Turn the page and begin this marriage of convenience...

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, and her books feature often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life…

Also by Sharon Kendrick

Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

A Royal Vow of Convenience

Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress

The Sheikh’s Bought Wife

The Pregnant Kavakos Bride

The Italian’s Christmas Secret

Di Sione’s Virgin Mistress

Bound to the Sicilian’s Bed

Crowned for the Sheikh’s Baby

The Greek’s Bought Bride

The Italian’s Christmas Housekeeper

The Sheikh’s Secret Baby

The Bond of Billionaires miniseries

Claimed for Makarov’s Baby

The Sheikh’s Christmas Conquest

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Bought Bride for the Argentinian

Sharon Kendrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08791-9

BOUGHT BRIDE FOR THE ARGENTINIAN

© 2019 Sharon Kendrick

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

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With special thanks to Melbourne-based Pat Conway

for his invaluable insights into the high-octane world

of Formula One—and a big shout-out

to his dynamic wife Chris.

Thanks also to the equestrian genius Alison Clark,

who inspired me with helpful details about polo

and Argentina. Woof to Pop!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS WORSE than she’d thought. Much worse. Past and present merged into one heartbreaking reality as Emily buried her face into the rough texture of the horse’s mane and wept. ‘Oh, Joya,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever has become of you?’

The horse gave a weak whinny and Emily couldn’t stem the tears even though she hadn’t cried in a long time. Because tears got you nowhere. Crying didn’t actually change anything, did it? It wasn’t as if someone was going to suddenly turn up and wave a magic wand and make it all better. For a few moments she just stood there before forcing herself to pull away, not wanting the animal to sense any more of the distress which had been swamping her ever since she’d arrived in this place.

Distractedly, she glanced around. A place which had been such a big part of her upbringing and was tied up with a swarm of memories. Bittersweet memories. Of a man with a hard body and warm, green eyes. A man who had brought her alive with his lips and his fingers and a whole lot else besides. Who had made her feel stuff she’d thought herself incapable of feeling. When she’d walked away from Alejandro Sabato it had felt as if someone were ripping her heart from her chest and then crushing it. In those few moments and all the months which had followed, she had truly known the definition of heartbreak. But she’d done it because there had been no other choice. Or at least it had seemed so at the time. Now she wondered if she had been a fool.

With an impatient hand she fisted away a tear, angry at herself for indulging in pointless reflection as she watched it tumble and soak into the rich Argentinian soil. Because she wasn’t here to feel sad, or look back. And she certainly wasn’t here to start thinking if only things had been different. Because there were no if onlys in life. The only certainty was that you took your choices and then had to live with the consequences, no matter how bleak they sometimes seemed.

She heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see Tomas walking slowly towards her, thinking how much the elderly retired groom had aged in the eight years since last she’d seen him. She had met him in the lawyer’s office, and he and his wife had agreed to accompany her here today, insisting on bringing a bag of provisions to the now-empty house. She’d been pleased to have their company, yes—but, more importantly, pleased to have someone to share her shock at what had awaited them here.

Because the last time she’d stood on this spot, the estate had been thriving and the enormous ranch pristine and elegant. But not any more. Now it looked like a ragged ghost of a building, with none of its former glory remaining. Everywhere she looked she could see decay and neglect—from the overgrown veranda, where once socialites had laughingly sipped mint juleps, to the main house itself. Or what remained of it. There was no trace of the gleaming paintwork, near which had nestled fragrant white flowers amid glossy green leaves. A couple of upstairs windows were broken and one of the doors was falling off its hinges. Evidence of mice was everywhere in the empty and echoing rooms. And as for the stables... Well, they were something else.

Emily swallowed. There was nothing left of the stables other than the once-proud horse she had loved with all her heart, who now bore little resemblance to the powerful creature on which she had learnt to ride. Her body trembled with pain as she stroked his dusty coat.

‘Oh, Tomas,’ she said as the old groom reached her side. ‘This is so awful.’

‘Sí, señorita,’ he agreed, his voice full of sadness.

‘How on earth did it happen?’

Tomas gave a weary shrug. ‘There was a little money left for his upkeep and I did what I could, but that money is now gone and the house is about to be sold to new owners who do not want him—or me. I would keep him if I could, but there is no room at my house for any animal—not even Joya.’

Emily dared to voice the fear which had been growing inside her ever since she’d walked in through the rusting gates of the property. ‘Why on earth did my stepfather leave me the horse?’ she demanded, but inside she suspected she knew why. It was to punish her. To lash out from beyond the grave and to cause her pain for daring to be the unwanted witness to his fiery marriage to her mother. The daughter he had never wanted, who had dared to fall in love with the son of the hired help.

Tomas was quiet for a moment and then spoke with the authority of someone who had observed a great deal during the years he had worked at the huge estate.

‘He bequeathed him to you because you loved him,’ he said slowly.

Emily nodded. Yes. She had loved Joya. With all her heart she had adored that horse, who had been such an important part of her teenage years. She’d been taught to ride on that horse, by the man with the green eyes and the hard body. She’d sought refuge from her mother’s hysteria by galloping out over the lush green of the Argentinian landscape for hours on end. And it was hard to see the welfare of a creature you loved threatened like this.

Yet she’d hardly followed his progress avidly in the years since the divorce and her mother’s subsequent death, had she? She had cut her ties with Argentina ruthlessly for all kinds of reasons, but now fate had brought her back to this vast land and she was shocked by what she had found. ‘I can’t bear the thought that Joya might have to be...put down, Tomas,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve racked my brain and tried to come up with some kind of solution but I can’t think of anything.’

She had expected gloomy agreement but, surprisingly, the grooves on Tomas’s weathered skin began to deepen as, unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘But there is a solution, señorita,’ he said. ‘And it has arrived sooner than even I imagined.’

He was looking at the sky as he spoke. The clear, blue Argentinian sky. It took a moment for Emily to realise that its unspoiled surface had been marred by the tiniest black spot in the distance, which was growing bigger all the time, and that a peace-shattering buzzing sound was gradually getting louder.

Shielding her gaze against the brightness of the sun with the flat of her hand, she frowned. ‘What’s that?’ she questioned, even though it was perfectly obvious what it was. A flashy-looking helicopter, and it was heading this way. A sudden inner misgiving made her skin grow cold, despite the heat of the day.

‘My prayers have been answered,’ said Tomas emotionally. ‘For he flies to us like a bird of prey! El cóndor!’

It was then that goosebumps began to ripple over Emily’s body as if an icy wind had suddenly started whipping through the warm day, and she wrapped her bare arms tightly over her chest as if to protect herself. Her heart started to pound as the helicopter grew closer and she watched it hover overhead before beginning its swaying descent. She wanted to run as far as her feet would take her. To seek refuge from the dark figure she could see seated at the controls, displaying the kind of powerful mastery which had always been so much a part of his appeal. But not all of it, no, she reminded herself painfully. He had been tender, too—and it had been that tenderness which had been her undoing. He had demonstrated an affection which had been like a revelation to her, for she had never experienced anything like it before. And hadn’t it been that more than anything else which had made her fall head over heels in love with him? Hadn’t it been that which had made the pain of leaving him so bitterly hard to bear?

During the intervening years since their last tumultuous meeting, Alejandro Sabato had become an icon and international heart-throb. He had dramatically ended his career as a world-class polo player—though nobody knew why—but hadn’t taken any of the usual paths after leaving the sport behind. No riding schools or polo club for him. Instead he had become a hugely successful businessman who operated on a global scale, though he’d never been able to shake off the stormy reputation which had grown up after a bitter book written by his ex-mistress.

But Emily didn’t associate him with riches beyond most people’s wildest dreams. She remembered him as the man who used to slowly trace the line of her lips with his fingertip before bending his head to kiss her. The man who had taught her the true meaning of love.

And she had thrown it all back in his face.

The wind created by the clattering craft was flattening the grasses and playing havoc with her hair, even though she’d tied it back into a plait when she’d stumbled out of bed that morning, still jet-lagged after her long flight. Her jeans were clean but that was pretty much all you could say about them, and her T-shirt was plain and unremarkable. Briefly, she wondered why she was worrying about her appearance at a time like this. But deep down she knew why.

Because he had been her lover.

Her only lover.

The man to whom she’d given her innocence, and in doing so had sealed her empty fate for ever.

She smoothed a flapping strand of hair away from her cheek, wishing she could quell the painful thundering of her heart. She hadn’t realised he could pilot a helicopter, but that shouldn’t have come as any surprise. Hadn’t he gone from being a dirt-poor boy who possessed an extraordinary gift with horses to becoming one of the world’s richest men? Financial success stuck to his skin like stardust—but not personal success, she reminded herself. The newspapers always described him as a playboy and commitment-phobe—as a man who had left countless broken hearts in his arrogant wake.

The rotor blades slowed to a halt and as the door of the craft opened, Alejandro Sabato leapt to the ground. He landed with a light thud, giving a brief masterclass in agility and strength and reminding her of his nickname earned during his polo-playing days—el cóndor—the one which Tomas the groom had just breathed in wonder. Emily swallowed. They used to call him that because he was dark and menacing and because he used to swoop down like a graceful predator, always getting the ball he was chasing. He’d been on the winning side of three World Polo Championships—and it had always been Alejandro who was pictured holding the trophy aloft, his dark head thrown back, his face grinning with victory and vitality.

Yet he had started out from the most humble of places—the illegitimate son of her stepfather’s housekeeper who, from the age of three, had grown up on his ranch and learned to ride almost as soon as he could walk. His talent had been spotted early and he’d moved to a polo stable on the other side of the country, where he had been intensively schooled in the sport. Six years older than Emily, he returned to the ranch only infrequently and she’d met him first at the age of twelve, soon after her mother had married Paul Vickery.

Had he recognised how lonely and out of place the English city girl had felt in that sweeping great country, in the home of a man who didn’t really want a stepdaughter? Was that why he’d been so kind to her? He’d taught her to ride—and to recognise the stars. He’d given her yerba maté to drink and taught her how to light a fire and then how to put it out again safely. A friendship had grown between them, although inevitably she had grown to idolise him. And then, when she was seventeen, something had shifted and changed. Desire had entered into their easy camaraderie and nothing was ever the same again.

But that was a long time ago. They’d both lived a lot of life and were adults now. Yet Emily found herself standing watching as Alejandro raked his windswept waves back from his forehead and the clench of her heart reminded her just how much he had meant to her. Suddenly a wave of nerves was rushing through her and she felt as if she were back in the shoes of that gauche young girl who had so adored him.

He must have seen her but he completely ignored her, going instead to Tomas and gripping him in a bear hug, before slipping into a stream of velvety Spanish, which caused the aging groom to beam with delight. Emily’s command of the language was rusty these days but she understood enough to realise that Alej was making a request for refreshment and Tomas nodded and began to walk slowly towards the house, presumably to relay the message to his wife, Rosa.

And once the groom had disappeared, the two of them were alone and just at that moment the sun disappeared behind a cloud, so that all the light and warmth seemed to leave the day. Slowly, the Argentinian turned around to survey her with a look which was cold. So cold. She was shocked at how the vibrancy seemed to have left the gaze she remembered so well. How his once-warm green eyes were now like leaves which had been coated in ice and the curl of his lips bordered on contemptuous. Yet that didn’t stop her breasts from tightening beneath her cotton shirt, or a long-forgotten hint of awareness from rippling sweetly over her thighs.

‘Alej!’ she said, the word much shakier than she would have liked—but there was no answering smile in response.

‘Only my close friends and intimates call me that these days,’ he corrected coolly, the curve of his mouth flattening into a cruel, hard line. ‘Let’s stick to Alejandro, shall we?’

It hurt, as it was probably intended to do, but Emily nodded as if it didn’t. As if all those years of friendship and companionship and then love had never happened. As if the man who’d used to suck on her breasts as if they were freshly peeled grapes had just made the most reasonable of requests. She’d learnt many things over the years but one of the most important was to keep pain hidden away, where nobody could see it.

‘Of course,’ she responded, before adding a somewhat flippant amendment of her own. ‘It’s probably the shock of seeing you again, Alejandro.’

‘Would you really describe it as a shock, Emily?’ he questioned, his richly accented voice thoughtful. ‘Or a deep and abiding pleasure? From the darkening of your eyes and the tension in your body I recognise so well, I would guess it’s the latter.’

Emily worked in PR, so she knew everything there was to know about putting a positive spin on things, but never had an upbeat mindset seemed so distant as it did right then. He was talking to her with sensuality dripping from every word, yet he was staring at her with a flicker of contempt in his green eyes, as if she meant nothing. And yet that didn’t seem to have any effect on her reaction to him. All the feelings she’d thought were dead and buried started bubbling up inside her and she couldn’t seem to stem them, no matter how hard she tried. She wanted to feast her eyes on the liquorice-black waves of his just-too-long hair and the burnished bronze of his glowing skin. Just as she wanted to ogle his body in the way that someone who’d been wandering around in the desert for days might stare greedily at a cool flask of water. And most of all she wanted to hurl herself into his arms and kiss him.

Concentrating very hard, she fixed him with an expression of polite curiosity, trying to behave as if he was someone she’d just met. But her outward calm didn’t mirror what was happening inside, because suddenly it felt as if her hormones had remembered what they’d been designed for. As if his presence had the power to make her body prickle with desire and heat and expectation. Her nipples were thrusting uncomfortably against her bra and she felt a long-forgotten twist of lust low in her groin as she looked at him.

In the past he’d always worn jodhpurs or faded jeans, which hugged his hips and thighs in a way which had seemed indecently provocative. But not today. Today, clad in an immaculate lightweight suit, he was looking like the billionaire he’d become—not the rookie polo player she’d fallen in love with, who’d barely had two pesos to rub together. And love was the last thing she needed to think about if she was going to get through this, she reminded herself fiercely. She needed to find out what had prompted his unexpected appearance and then for him to leave as quickly as possible. She certainly didn’t need to respond to his provocative observations about her body. Even if they happened to be true.

‘Why are you here, Alejandro?’ she questioned, instantly becoming aware of the slight edge to her voice and trying her best to iron it out. ‘Why have you turned up out of the blue?’ Briefly, she cast her gaze towards the sky. ‘Quite literally in this case?’

‘Don’t play games, Emily,’ he said softly. ‘It’s a waste of both our time. I came because you need me.’

Emily blinked very fast. ‘I need you?’

‘Are you going to repeat everything I say?’ His voice was silky. ‘Haven’t you grown out of that kind of docile behaviour by now?’

Don’t react to that either, she told herself. You don’t need to get into a fight with him. You’re no longer that giddy teenager who used to follow him around like a tame dog and lap up everything he said to you. And you’re not the young woman who cried every night for months after she’d walked away. You left that person behind a long time ago. You became somebody else. Somebody grown-up and together.

So Emily tilted her chin in the way she’d learned from watching other women. The way which sent out a message to the world that you were super-confident, even if inside you wondered why you couldn’t ever seem to lose that little stone of sadness which was buried deep inside you.

‘I’m not here to trade insults, Alejandro,’ she said calmly. ‘I asked you a perfectly reasonable question about why you were here.’

For a moment his green eyes narrowed. ‘Tomas emailed me. I assumed with your blessing.’

She screwed up her brow in a frown. ‘What did the email say?’

He shrugged and she wished he hadn’t because it made her uncomfortably aware of the iron-hard muscle which lay beneath the fine silk of his shirt. Just as it made her aware of the rocky power of the arms which used to hold her so tightly, so that all the troubles of the world seemed to ebb away.

‘That your stepfather had died—which I already knew, obviously, since news travels fast—and that he had bequeathed you your old horse. And since you didn’t have the means to look after him, you were desperate for someone to step in and help you out.’ He stared at her. ‘Is that true?’

Desperate? Was she? Emily met the question in his piercing green gaze. She was certainly still reeling from the recent events which had recently turned her life upside down. Her loathsome stepfather had finally paid the price for his long-standing love affair with the bottle and had died a lonely death, which she couldn’t really be sad about. She hadn’t seen him since the bitter events following his acrimonious divorce from her mother and had been shocked to find herself listed as a beneficiary of his will. She still wondered what had possessed her to beg her business partner for some unplanned leave and then to turn up in a dusty lawyer’s office in Buenos Aires to discover what he had left her. Was it simply curiosity or just a sudden desire to lay to rest the ghosts of her past?

Either way, she had been disappointed. It seemed there had been no deathbed conversion which had made Paul Vickery want to make amends for the harsh treatment he’d meted out to her and her mother. It had been just another twist of the knife really.

‘Some of it is true,’ she said huskily. ‘My stepfather did leave me Joya. But no way did I ask Tomas to get in touch with you. You’re the last person I’d ever choose to contact.’

Alejandro’s mouth flattened as her soft English voice washed over him. Of course he was. He was disposable, wasn’t he? A poor boy with a hard body who could be dispensed with once he’d done his job as stud. He had been deemed suitable enough to introduce her to the art of pleasure and then afterwards tossed aside like a piece of trash. And Emily Green had played him for a fool, hadn’t she? Stared at him with those big sapphire eyes. Tossed her fair hair like a feisty pony, so that it rippled down her back like a field of golden wheat. He’d been transfixed by her Englishness. By her pale beauty and the pert vigour of her young body. Long legs and slender arms and a pale bottom, which curved like the moon.

She’d driven him mad with frustration and desire those hot summer nights when he’d lain alone on his narrow bunk next to the stables, sweat pouring from his brow and his groin close to bursting as he imagined losing himself in all her sweet, secret places. And then, when his dream had finally come true and he had bedded her at last—she had turned around and crushed his honour and his hopes beneath one of her costly leather shoes, before walking away from him without a backward glance.

At the time he had been astonished by her behaviour—but not for long. Because soon after that he was to discover that all women were liars and cheats. But it had been Emily who had hurt him the most, who had wielded the sharpest blade, which felt like it was digging deep into his heart. And didn’t they say that the first cut was the deepest?

‘So what are you planning to do?’ he said, slanting a compassionate look towards the horse who was still trying to summon up the strength to nuzzle Emily’s hand. ‘Put a bullet to his head?’

She recoiled, staring at him as if he had just ascended from the depths of hell.

‘Are you advocating I kill my horse?’ she accused shakily. ‘You, who always loved animals?’

‘Yes, I loved them and still do,’ he grated. ‘More than I ever loved any human, that’s for sure—and way too much to want to condemn them to a life of neglect. Is that what you want for Joya, Emily? For his eyes to grow so dull that he can barely see and he doesn’t even have the strength to put food in his mouth?’

‘Of course that’s not what I want,’ she declared, the quick shake of her head drawing his eyes reluctantly to the thick shimmer of her blonde hair. ‘But I don’t have...’

‘Don’t have what?’ he prompted silkily.

Emily stared at him, not wanting to divulge the truth—not to him of all people. But what good was pride in a situation like this? Shouldn’t she be thinking about Joya, rather than how humble her life must appear to this new and very different Alejandro, who breathed wealth and power from every pore of his spectacular body?

‘I don’t have the means to look after him,’ she admitted. ‘I live in a small apartment in the middle of London and I couldn’t possibly move him there—’

‘I doubt he would survive the journey anyway.’

She nodded, wishing he hadn’t made the curt intervention because she didn’t need reminding of how frail Joya was. ‘I also have a very modest lifestyle,’ she continued, a rush of blood heating her cheeks as he continued to look at her with a trace of scorn. ‘Which certainly wouldn’t allow me to fund Joya’s care here in Argentina.’

He appeared to be mulling over her words when Rosa appeared on the veranda carrying a couple of the wooden drinking cups known as gourds, and Emily felt a quick pang of nostalgia as she recognised the traditional Argentinian drink of yerba maté. Because it had been Alejandro who’d first introduced her to it—showing her how to suck it up out of the straw-like strainer, which prevented the leaves from clogging up your mouth. Who had told her laughingly that if she wasn’t careful, the caffeine would keep her awake all night—but that was okay by him. She remembered how cosmopolitan he’d made her feel and how the whisper of his fingertips over her skin had made her stomach turn to jelly.

‘Why don’t we go over to the veranda and have this discussion in the shade, while Tomas takes Joya back to the stables?’ Alejandro suggested smoothly.

To Emily’s surprise she found herself agreeing, even though instinct was telling her it might not be such a great idea. Maybe it was the shock of seeing him again which made her follow him up the old wooden steps. Or maybe it was just that old habits died hard, because she’d always been a sucker for his suggestions. Either way, she was glad to take a seat on the veranda, taking a thirsty pull of the bitter drink Rosa had left for them.

Once her thirst had been quenched, she became aware of the Argentinian’s cool gaze fixed on her and she fidgeted a little. He had undone a third button on his white shirt and was stretching his long legs in front of him, drawing her attention to the taut fabric of his trousers, which stretched across the muscular definition of his hard thighs. She could feel beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead as she found herself remembering those thighs hair-roughened and naked as they thrust against the smoothness of her own skin. Yet their physical relationship had been cut abruptly short, she reminded herself, wondering how something so brief could have had such an enduring impact. And then she remembered something else.

‘Tomas told me that your mother had died last year,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’

It was then that his face changed. She watched it darken with anger and she shrank back a little against the battered wicker chair.

‘You are hypocritical enough to express your condolences?’ he demanded. ‘When it was your spite which meant my mother lost her job?’

CHAPTER TWO

THE LOUD SWELL of the cicadas was the only sound which could be heard above the loud beat of her pounding heart as Emily stared at Alejandro across the faded veranda. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she breathed. ‘How could I have possibly been responsible for your mother losing her job?’

He sliced his hand through the air with a gesture of disdainful impatience. ‘Don’t give me that false wide-eyed look of innocence, Emily.’

‘It’s not false. It’s genuine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His brow darkened, his green gaze narrowing. ‘After we were discovered together and you flew back to England as if the hounds of hell were at your heels, my mother was called into your father’s study and told to leave the property immediately, never to return.’ His face contorted with contempt. ‘Twenty-one years of devotion thrown back in her face.’

Emily’s lips fell open and she shook her head in vehement denial. ‘I swear I didn’t know that. I thought she’d left of her own accord.’

‘Oh, come on. Women of such subservience don’t just leave of their own accord,’ he mimicked cruelly. ‘Did you know your stepfather refused to provide any references for her, so she couldn’t get any more work? And although I was able to provide some means of support, she complained that her life felt empty without work.’

Alejandro felt his mouth harden with anger and frustration. He had wanted to help his mother in more practical ways than simply buying her a small house. Having given birth to him at just seventeen, she’d been young enough to retrain in something different. Young enough to start again. But she hadn’t wanted a new life. She had just smoked cigarette after cigarette while continuing to spin him the same old lies, which for a time while he’d been growing up had made him feel special and different. And wasn’t it crazy that he’d hung onto the myth he’d been spun for so long—so that when he had finally learned the truth, it had nearly broken him?

He stared at Emily. Maybe it was true what she said and she hadn’t been directly responsible for his mother’s sacking, but that didn’t change the anger he felt towards her, did it? Because he had loved her in a way he had never loved anyone else and he’d thought she loved him, too. But she hadn’t. She had been the only woman who had ever rejected him and she had done it in a cruel and dismissive manner which had emphasised his subservient status. He would never forget the way she had looked through him, as if he had been invisible. As if he were nothing. Was it that which had planted the bitter seed of anger, deep in the empty place he called his heart?

He watched as, with an unsteady hand, she put down her half-empty gourd and fixed him with those incredible sapphire eyes of hers.

‘You still haven’t explained what brought you here today, Alej.’

He leaned his head back against the chair and surveyed her from between slitted eyes. ‘Because I think I can help you. Or rather, I think we can help each other.’

She shook her head. ‘After the things you’ve just accused me of, I’m amazed you’re offering, but I’ll decline if it’s all the same to you.’ She gritted him a polite smile. ‘I don’t need your help.’

‘Oh, I think you do,’ he contradicted softly. ‘That is, if you want to save Joya. If you’d like him to live out his days happily in a flower-filled meadow, with a loving groom to tend to his every need rather than ending up on the scrapheap, which is where he’s heading right now.’

‘Are you trying to use an old, sick horse in order to blackmail me?’

‘Not at all. I’m simply stating facts,’ he said. ‘And suggesting we do a trade-off.’

Still reeling from the fact that he held her responsible for his mother’s sacking, Emily wondered what on earth he was talking about. Because what could someone like her do for someone like him, when he was an iconic billionaire and she was...? She stared down at her jeans and canvas sneakers. At the unmanicured hands which were resting on the sides of the chair. She was just an ordinary woman trying to find some balance after a tumultuous upbringing, which had bounced her round like a rubber ball. A woman who had been chasing independence since she’d graduated from college. Normality was what she craved more than anything and contact with Alejandro Sabato certainly wouldn’t go anywhere towards helping her achieve that aim. Because he made her want something it was dangerous to want and that something was him. He made her think of slow touching and long kissing—both of which she’d like to do right now, even though he was looking at her with an expression of barely veiled contempt. And hadn’t that been the root cause of her mother’s tragic story—that she had been hooked on a man who had secretly despised her? Did she really want the same thing for herself?

Her instinct was to finish her drink, to smile politely and tell him she would manage somehow. She would find a way to save Joya, though she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to go about it in a country which now felt distinctly foreign to her, despite having spent so much time here.

But Argentina was Alej’s homeland, wasn’t it? If anyone knew how best to deal with rehoming an ancient horse and rescuing him from certain death, it was him. And because he looked so powerful and dependable as he sat opposite her on the shaded veranda, she found the words leaving her mouth before she’d had time to consider the wisdom of saying them. ‘What kind of trade-off?’ she questioned cautiously.

Reflectively, he stirred his drink with the bombilla before lifting his gaze to hers, rugged features darkened by the shade cast by the overgrown shrubs which tumbled down the side of the veranda. ‘How much do you know about me, Emily?’

It was an unexpected question and Emily wished he hadn’t asked it. Because she knew him intimately, as only a lover could. His hard body. That low, exultant moan he’d given as he had bucked to fulfilment—over and over during that night. The only night. Flustered, she shrugged, trying to dredge up some of the facts she’d buried deep in her mind, where she rarely allowed herself to venture. ‘I know you came from a poor family and that your mother—’

‘No, not back then,’ he interrupted, and suddenly there was a bitterness about him which she’d never seen before. Or maybe she just hadn’t hung around long enough to see it.

‘Spare me the rags-to-riches story which has been told a million times,’ he ordered roughly. ‘I’m talking about modern day. Real time. Now.’

Emily screwed up her eyes. If she admitted to knowing stuff about his current lifestyle, mightn’t that seem as if she was somehow trolling him, like some sad ex-lover who couldn’t bear to let go? But Alejandro Sabato wasn’t just anyone, she reminded herself. Everything he touched made headlines—both work and play. Who hadn’t heard of him?

‘I know you suddenly retired from polo,’ she said. ‘And that your decision took everyone by surprise.’

He nodded but provided no explanation. His verdant gaze just continued to cut through her, like a knife slicing through a ripe melon. ‘What else?’

She hesitated. After all the drama and fallout she’d experienced while growing up, she tried not to place too much importance on wealth—but in this case that would be like trying to ignore a whole herd of elephants who were trying to trample their way into a small cupboard. Especially with that top-of-the-range black helicopter, which was shining like a giant beetle in the field not far from where they were sitting, and the fact that Alejandro had recently come in at number thirty-four on a list of the world’s richest men.

‘That you invested in an energy drink which is pretty much drunk everywhere and used some of the money you made to help a friend set up a social media app. And then you bought into a motor-racing team, which has reaped its own rewards,’ she offered. ‘So you’ve exchanged one kind of high-intensity sport for another.’

‘Very neatly summarised,’ he said, raising his dark eyebrows. ‘Perhaps I should be flattered that you’ve taken such an interest in my progress, Emily.’

‘Please don’t be,’ she said sharply. ‘I work in PR and it’s my job to read the papers. And since you take up a lot of column space in the international press, it’s hardly surprising that I should have picked up some facts about you over the years.’

From the thick lashes which framed the startling green eyes, he continued to survey her. ‘Then you will know about Colette?’

There was the briefest of pauses before Emily nodded, surprised by how much it hurt to hear him say another woman’s name. ‘Doesn’t everyone? Supermodels of her stature are few and far between. I gather you broke up,’ she added blandly. ‘And she wrote an unauthorised biography about you.’

‘Did you read it?’

Emily shook her head. Was he mad? Of course she hadn’t read it! She’d seen the title and hadn’t even been able to face giving it a quick skim-through. Because what woman would want to absorb details of her ex-lover’s wild sex life with one of the world’s hottest supermodels? ‘No,’ she said, and then—because he seemed to be waiting for more—she forced herself to continue. ‘But I gather it wasn’t favourable towards you.’

Alej almost smiled. He’d forgotten the English penchant for understatement, just as he’d forgotten how Emily’s cool beauty had the ability to ignite something deep inside him. It always had. He hadn’t seen her in eight years, yet the lust which was pulsing through his body was as powerful as it had been when he’d met her way back when. Back then, she had been forbidden fruit for all kinds of reasons. Too young, for a start—even before you factored in that she was the stepdaughter of his mother’s employer and that nobody in their right mind would dare mess around with the boss’s family.

But desire was a powerful driver. It had eaten him up from the inside out. Plagued and tormented him like a fever, so that he’d had to work extra hard to concentrate on the polo which had always consumed him and had promised a route out of the poverty into which he’d been born. And wasn’t the truth that Emily hadn’t been like the other girls who hung around the polo field with their breasts practically falling out of their shirts? An out-and-out tomboy, she’d somehow made him feel stuff. Stuff he wasn’t used to feeling, which had made him want to buy her flowers and brush her hair in the moonlight and tell her that her skin was paler than the stars. He’d thought it had been the same for her—that she had reciprocated his see-sawing emotions during those long months of stolen kisses and furtive embraces before he had finally made love to her.

His groin hardened. Because of her innocence and relative youth he had employed an uncharacteristic restraint around Emily Green. It had almost killed him to hold off until her eighteenth birthday, though in the end they had missed it by a day because they just couldn’t wait any longer. Never had a sexual build-up been so exquisitely slow or sweetly torturous, so that when he had finally slipped inside her, he’d come almost as quickly as she had done. He’d been having safe sex with willing partners since the age of sixteen—but nothing could have prepared Alej for his first time with Emily, when he plunged deep into her tight and molten heat. The only time, he reminded himself bitterly, before forcing his attention back to the present and the sapphire-blue eyes which were regarding him with a curiosity which was somehow adding to his frustration and long-suppressed anger.

‘It was, as you say—an unfavourable piece,’ he conceded, his temperate tone at odds with his turbulent thoughts. ‘But, unfortunately, mud sticks and she told a lot of lies about me.’

She tilted her head to one side, so that her thick blonde plait fell forward and lay enticingly against the firm thrust of her breasts. ‘What kind of lies?’

‘What man would wish to list their supposed transgressions to another woman? Why don’t you just read the book for yourself?’ There was a pause. ‘And in the meantime, I could make sure that Joya is taken care of.’

Her attention was momentarily distracted as she watched a lizard slithering its way across the decking before looking up at him.

‘That’s a very generous offer,’ she said uncertainly.

‘Which obviously isn’t motivated simply by my love of horses.’

‘No?’

He shook his head and gave a glimmer of a smile. ‘Of course not. I expect to extract a reward for my benevolence.’

Behind the smile an undeniable threat was underpinning his words and as Emily stared into his eyes she felt a sudden chill whisper its way over her skin. If she hadn’t been so worried and in such a helpless position about helping Joya, she wouldn’t have needed to ask the question, but the reality was that she did. ‘What kind of “reward” did you have in mind?’

The slow smile he flicked her was tinged with sensual promise, but the words which followed were the last thing Emily was expecting to hear.

‘You work in public relations, don’t you?’

She blinked. ‘How did you know that?’

‘It wasn’t difficult. I did a little research, before you arrived. Your reputation is modest, but it’s growing. I read nothing but good things about you.’ There was a brief pause. ‘So how about you come and work for me, as my PR representative?’

‘You don’t have one at the moment?’

‘Never saw the need.’ He shrugged. ‘But if you can polish my tarnished image for me, then we’ll call it quits.’

‘But why?’ Her brow creased into a frown. ‘I mean, why do you suddenly care what people think about you when you never did before?’

He didn’t answer for a moment and when he did his voice was reflective. ‘Because I’m thinking of throwing my hat into the political ring and my current reputation will do me no favours. If you can make this bad-boy billionaire into a respectable member of polite society, I will reward you very handsomely.’

Emily stared at him. Was he actually offering her a job? Asking her to create a squeaky-clean image for him, which would involve her delving into aspects of his life which made her feel ill just thinking about them? She couldn’t do it. In fact, she wouldn’t do it. You could only ever take a job like this if you were properly impartial and impartiality was the last thing she felt towards the Argentinian billionaire.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think you realise how my kind of business operates, Alejandro,’ she said. ‘I can’t suddenly start working exclusively for you—even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I have commitments.’

His hand sliced through the air with that same impatient gesture. ‘I’m not interested in the detail. I’ve told you what I want, so make it happen. Leave your job if necessary.’

‘Leave my job?’ Her lips fell open. ‘I’m in partnership with a friend from uni. That’s just not possible.’

‘Anything is possible, Emily,’ he bit out. ‘We both know that. We live in a world where a poor illegitimate boy can rise up the greasy pole to have more money than he knows what to do with.’

She shook her head. ‘Find someone else, Alejandro. There are plenty of public relations officers who are of an equally high standard who would bite your hand off to get this kind of job.’

‘But they aren’t you,’ he said silkily. ‘Are you haggling with me because you want to obtain the highest price for your services—is that what this is all about? In which case, let me tell you something which might influence your opinion.’

He mentioned a sum of money which took her breath away. Emily dug her fingers into the arms of the wicker chair and levered herself up, needing to get away from his distracting gaze as she tried to process the offer he’d just made her. That was a lot of money. Walking over to the edge of the veranda, she stared out at the lush Argentinian landscape and the cotton-wool clouds which were billowing up on the horizon.

She knew she ought to refuse because only a fool would accept—given their history. She’d hurt him for no reason other than that she’d been scared. But she had reasons for being tempted by the money—and not just because her embryo PR business could do with a financial cushion. And there was Great-Aunt Jane to think about—her only living relative who Emily kept a tender eye on as often as she could. Because her pension was tiny, wasn’t it? She had become one of those old people who were scared of the future because they weren’t quite sure if they would have enough money to fund whatever lay ahead. Wouldn’t it be great if she could take away some of her worries by presenting her with a generous cheque?

But deep down Emily knew that her eagerness to accept Alejandro’s offer was about more than helping care for a dear relative. The truth was that for too long she’d felt as if she was existing on some kind of plateau. As if life was passing her by. These days she rarely dated but when she did, she felt empty. As if she’d been carved from stone. And the reason for that was standing right in front of her. Tall, dark and indomitable. The man who made all other men seem as insubstantial as shadows. The man who made the idea of loving someone else seem impossible.

Sometimes she suspected that she’d idealised Alejandro Sabato and allowed time to distort her memory of him, although the reality of seeing him in the flesh was as powerful as it had ever been. But if she’d been guilty of putting him on a pedestal, then surely here was the perfect opportunity to dismantle it. To see for herself the man he really was, rather than the superhero of her young and lovestruck imagination. She could feel the thunder of her heart as she tried to imagine it. Wouldn’t daily contact with the arrogant billionaire reinforce all the reasons why it was the best decision to walk away, as well as saving Joya and helping her great-aunt in the process?

She turned back to find him looking at her and the most stupid thing was that all she really wanted was for him to hold her. To cradle her in his strong arms and make her feel truly desired again. Determinedly, she pushed those thoughts away.

‘Since I can’t see any alternative,’ she said slowly, ‘I’ll take the job.’

Alejandro felt a beat of anger because he’d seen the way her eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree when he’d mentioned the money. It seemed she was just like her mother, he observed bitterly—available to the highest bidder. Yet she wore no outward signs of the wealth she clearly craved. Her clothes were decidedly unsexy and her face bare of make-up. He wondered if she had been disappointed with the laughable legacy left to her by her stepfather and was surprised how much pleasure it gave him to hope so.

‘I thought that might sway it,’ he remarked, raking his fingers back through the thick tumble of his hair. ‘There are very few women who aren’t persuaded by the prospect of instant wealth.’

And then he remembered why he was here—not to stand in judgement or to remind himself that she was shallow and avaricious. The real reason was as old as time itself. She had hurt him. Badly. And now it was time to hurt her right back.

He flicked her a smile. ‘I’m flying out to Australia for the Melbourne Grand Prix next week and I want you there,’ he said silkily.

She nodded as she looked up, her expression composed, but he sensed an inner tension about her which echoed his own. He could see those blue eyes widening. Darkening. He could see the almost surreptitious way that the tip of her tongue slid out to moisten the lush cushion of her lower lip. Soon, he thought, with a beat of anticipation. Soon he would make her realise what she was missing and how stupid she had been to turn her back on him in such a cold and callous manner.

And then he could walk away.

His mouth hardened.

For ever.

CHAPTER THREE

‘EMILY, ARE YOU OKAY? I mean, seriously?’ Marybeth’s voice was full of concern. ‘I’ve never seen you like this before, not in all the years I’ve known you.’

Slowly Emily turned around to survey her business partner, who’d been her best friend since they’d met during their final year of college. Still reeling from her mother’s sudden death, Emily had been floundering when Marybeth Miller had swooped in and taken her under her wing. She’d insisted on bringing Emily back for weekends at her family’s rambling farmhouse in north Devon, where Emily had come into contact with the kind of noisy, good-hearted atmosphere she’d never known before. It had been her first experience of teasing siblings and walking for miles in the fresh country air before sitting down to eat enormous hunks of home-made cake, and it had helped her come to terms with her bereavement, though that hadn’t been easy.

Her pain had been compounded by other feelings: by guilt and regret—but especially guilt. She kept wondering if she could have done something to stop her mother’s inevitable decline. If she could maybe have stopped her taking tranquillisers or shown her that there was a life worth living, even as a divorcee. But alongside the guilt had come a rush of something else and Emily hadn’t been able to shake off her relief that she was now liberated from all the emotional trauma of her mother’s life. She wondered if it had been that liberation which had prompted her to mail Alejandro a letter, apologising for everything that had happened and offering a cautious olive branch, suggesting that if he was playing in England any time soon, then perhaps they could meet up for a drink. But he hadn’t even bothered to reply. And maybe part of her couldn’t blame him. Did she really imagine that the proud Argentinian would share a cocktail with her after she’d dumped him so brutally?

‘I mean, look at you now—you’re miles away!’ Marybeth was staring at Emily in bemusement. ‘And you’ve got this look on your face, like...’

‘Like what?’ Emily prompted curiously.

‘You’re all wired,’ said her friend. ‘As if someone’s turned on a light inside you and you’ve suddenly come alive. Yet you look scared, too. As if something’s waiting just around the corner for you and you don’t like what it is.’ She paused. ‘You know, you don’t have to accept this job from this guy Alejandro Sabato.’

Emily gave a hollow laugh. ‘What, and turn down the best money and exposure we’ve ever been offered just because I once stupidly had sex with him?’

Marybeth looked shocked—probably because Emily was never usually that frank. Or maybe it was because she’d lived like a nun for so long that her partner thought she was still a virgin.

‘Is that what happened?’ Marybeth questioned. ‘I mean, I guessed there had been someone.’

Emily blinked. ‘You did?’

Marybeth shrugged. ‘Of course. You’re lovely,’ she said gently. ‘But you always clammed up when it came to talking about men and then this really sad look would come over your face, so I didn’t like to pry. And whenever you’ve dated anyone—which doesn’t happen often—nobody has come close to capturing your heart, which suggested it must have been badly broken. Is that what happened, Em—with this guy Sabato? Did he break your heart?’

Emily hesitated as she folded another cotton shirt before adding it to the neat and sensible pile already in her suitcase. She never talked about it because it still had the power to hurt and also because she was aware of how badly she’d handled it—in fact, she couldn’t have handled it more badly if she’d tried. But maybe she should talk about it. Maybe she needed to make sense of it in her own head, so that she could deal with it competently when she came into contact with him again. ‘Alejandro was the housekeeper’s son when I lived in Argentina,’ she began slowly. ‘In the days when my mother was married to Paul Vickery.’

‘That’s the guy who left you the horse?’

Emily nodded. ‘That’s the one. Cruel and calculating, but ultimately very rich—at least, he was when I was a child. My mother was completely in thrall to him, mainly because he’d rescued her from a life of poverty as a widow. My father was a fisherman who drowned off the Cornish coast, but even when he was alive, money was scarce. After he died my mother met Paul and felt as if she’d hit the jackpot. She’d found herself a rich husband who gave her a financial security she didn’t have to work for. It’s one of the reasons why my career has always been so important to me. Why I’ve been determined never to rely on a man like that.’

She heaved out a sigh. ‘And even though he was chronically unfaithful, Paul only had to snap his fingers and she came running, which is what rich men really want women to do—and then they despise them for it. He had a thing about status. A big thing. Socialising in the highest echelons of society was his bag and his stepdaughter mixing with the illegitimate son of the hired help certainly didn’t fit into that image, despite the fact that Alej was clearly going to be a big star in the world of polo. It may have been even more basic than that. Alejandro was at his physical peak and poised on the cusp of glory and my stepfather was getting very old by then—so maybe it was that old lion, young lion thing. When he found out I was involved with Alej, he demanded I finish it.’

‘So you did?’

It sounded weak to admit it now, but, yes, she’d caved in and done exactly as her stepfather had demanded—mainly because her mother had got down on her knees in that over-the-top way of hers and begged her to. Had sobbed that Paul would never forgive her if she didn’t and she couldn’t cope with a divorce and going back to being a single mother. The ensuing drama had felt like an embarrassing nightmare and in the end Emily had agreed. But she’d convinced herself it was all for the best and it would save her even more heartbreak further on down the line, because surely to Alej she was nothing more than a brief fling. A teenage love affair which wasn’t going anywhere—especially when increasing numbers of women were lining up beside the polo pitch to watch him play and making their availability very plain. Just as she’d told herself she would soon forget him. That the latter part of her assessment had never come true wasn’t anyone’s fault, particularly not his.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I finished it.’

I finished it in the most horrible way possible which still makes me shudder to think about it, which is why I rarely do.

‘So why do you think he’s chosen you to salvage his image, out of all the PR representatives in the world?’ questioned Marybeth slowly.

‘He says he wants to go into politics,’ Emily answered, her brow furrowing into a thoughtful frown. ‘And needs to shed his bad-boy reputation pretty sharpish.’

‘And that’s it?’ Marybeth’s eyes glinted. ‘That’s the only reason he’s employing you?’

It was a question Emily didn’t want to answer as she snapped her suitcase closed and gave Marybeth a bright smile. ‘I guess so. What other reason could there be?’

But she thought about her partner’s question all the way to Heathrow airport and through the long flight which followed, which was delayed further by a technical problem on the plane which was supposed to take them from Brunei to Melbourne. Hadn’t there been a whisper of revenge underpinning the dogmatic way Alejandro had demanded she go and work for him? Was the unspoken clause that he wanted to capitalise on the undoubted chemistry which still existed between them, or was that just her imagination? Because that was never going to happen, no matter what the provocation. No matter that she still found him the sexiest man she’d ever set eyes on, she wasn’t going to tumble into his arms the way she used to do. She didn’t dare. Why would she put herself through something like that when the cold glint in Alejandro’s eyes made no secret of the fact that he now despised her? All she needed to do was to resurrect his battered public image and earn the money he had promised her. Simple.

* * *

It was hot when she arrived in Melbourne—hotter than Emily had expected, though she’d never been to Australia before. She felt grimy and sticky after the long journey but was due to meet Alejandro at the racetrack and reckoned a trip to her hotel to freshen up would make her even later than she already was. So she scurried into a washroom at the airport and did the best she could in the cramped surroundings, but the creases in the clean dress she pulled on were stubbornly refusing to fall out and her cheeks were flushed and shiny.

Passing a news stand, she saw Alejandro’s rugged features staring back from the front page of a tabloid underneath the headline Billionaire’s Racy Race Party!

Digging into her purse for some coins, she tucked the newspaper into her bag and read it during the bus ride to the stadium, hating the way her heart sank as she pored over the feature, thinking how much one of the women photographed entering his hotel resembled his ex-mistress—a fact which hadn’t escaped the notice of the journalist. It gave them the perfect opportunity to print an old picture of Colette and Alejandro kissing passionately at the Monaco Grand Prix and Emily couldn’t rid herself of the image of the supermodel’s long fingers splayed possessively over the Argentinian billionaire’s taut bottom.

She was still feeling peculiar when the bus arrived at the race venue in Albert Park, and the constant droning of powerful cars coming from inside the stadium only added to her feelings of disorientation. Her phone started vibrating and she didn’t need to see the name to know who it was from, as she squinted at it in the sunshine. The terse message blazing from the screen could have originated from only one person.

Where the hell are you?

Alejandro. Sounding angry and impatient. Was this going to be his default mechanism with her from now on? she wondered. But at least he’d kept his side of the bargain and, just before she’d left England, a batch of photos had arrived, each showing Joya. Now happily rehomed in Alejandro’s vast Argentinian ranch, the horse’s body had started to fill out and gleam with health as he stood regarding the camera with some of his perky expression of old. Unexpected tears had pricked at Emily’s eyes as she’d stared at the images and she’d felt an overwhelming burst of gratitude as she’d boarded the night bus to the airport.

And now it was time for her to keep her side of the bargain, despite her misgivings.

She tapped out a reply.

Yes, I had a very pleasant trip—thanks for asking!

Another terse reply shot straight back.

Where are you?

This was going to be fun, thought Emily as her fingers flew over the smooth surface of the screen.

Just going up to the VIP section as instructed. Assume someone will meet me there?

There was no response to this one, so she picked up her suitcase and asked for directions, before heading for the gate where a small but well-heeled throng were congregated. Emily looked around with interest, because she’d never been to a motor-racing event before and it was a lot dressier than she’d imagined. Some of the women were wearing expensive skinny jeans and floaty blouses with discreet diamonds glinting at their ears and wrists, while others were in silk dresses with crazy-high heels. Emily frowned. Maybe Marybeth had been right in insisting that she borrow some fancy clothes for the trip, after all. Surreptitiously, she smoothed down her hair, uncomfortably aware that her battered suitcase was standing out like a sore thumb amid all the soft designer handbags.

Everyone was being ushered through the metal turnstile without fanfare, but as soon as Emily stepped forward, a burly security guard planted himself in front of her.

‘Pass?’ he said, extending the palm of his hand.

‘I should have been left one at the gate.’ Emily forced a smile, acutely aware of the beads of sweat which were springing up on her forehead and of a woman in front who had turned round to give her a haughty look. She wanted to exude her usual air of competence but for some reason it seemed to be eluding her. ‘By Alejandro Sabato.’

The security man raised his eyebrows. ‘Alejandro Sabato? The sponsor?’

‘That’s right. He’s expecting me.’

‘Is he now?’ The guard could barely keep the smirk from his lips. ‘That’s what they all say, love. I’m afraid it’s more than my job’s worth to let you in without a ticket.’

‘It’s okay, Wesley.’ A rich, accented voice filtered through the warm air towards them. ‘I can vouch for her.’

The guard’s demeanour quickly changed to one of near adulation as Alejandro came through the turnstile, irritation hardening the perfection of his olive-skinned features as he strode towards them. With an impatient movement he gestured for her to move away and Emily was glad to remove herself from the glances they were attracting. Were people bemused by how mismatched the two of them looked? Mightn’t she have thought exactly the same if she’d been the outsider?

She wished she could slow down the racing of her heart, just as she wished she could stop her body from prickling with instinctive hunger as she surveyed the man towering over her, with anger glinting from his green eyes. Today he was dressed down in faded denims and a creamy silk shirt, but his casual clothes didn’t detract from the unmistakable air of authority and power which radiated from his body. Dark waves of hair were curling onto the collar of his shirt, their unruly profusion somehow at odds with his upright stance and the perfect posture which had always been remarked upon during his riding career. People were taking sneaky photos of him with their phones but he didn’t appear to notice.

‘You’re late,’ he accused, as soon as they were out of earshot.

‘I know. Sorry about that. It couldn’t be helped.’

‘Why not? What happened?’ he demanded. ‘Was the plane delayed?’

‘Sort of. There was a tech problem.’ Emily shifted the strap of her shoulder bag to stop it rubbing. ‘Which delayed the second flight, so the journey took longer than the twenty-eight hours it was supposed to take.’

‘More than twenty-eight hours?’ he echoed incredulously. ‘How is that even possible?’

She wondered if he’d forgotten what it was like to be poor, or to be starting out. If he knew what it was like to consult comparison sites on the web before you took a plane anywhere—or whether he was so used to travelling around in private jets and helicopters that such a mode of transport now seemed completely normal to him. ‘I bought the cheapest ticket available, which meant it took a somewhat...um...’ she gave a sheepish shrug ‘...indirect route.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Even though you had a budget which allowed you to travel first class, which I believe was agreed in advance with my assistant?’

‘That’s right.’

‘So?’ His eyes bored into her questioningly.

‘So I couldn’t justify spending that kind of money on a plane ticket and flying to the other side of the world in the lap of luxury, Alejandro. Not when my business is in such a fledgling state and we’re still having to budget like crazy because most people don’t pay on time. Every penny counts at this stage—that’s why we’re careful.’ She hesitated, and then a smile seemed to spring out of nowhere as she looked at him with gratitude. ‘But I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Joya. He seems so happy now and those pictures of him at your ranch look amazing.’

‘It’s called an estancia,’ he snapped.

‘Whatever.’ Her smile widened. ‘But thanks, anyway.’

Alejandro wanted to hang onto his anger but when she looked at him like that it wasn’t easy, and it was causing his conscience to stir in an uncharacteristic way, because she looked so damned sweet. But she wasn’t sweet, he reminded himself grimly. She was as money-grabbing as her mother. And she was a heartless snob. When she’d walked away from him, she had looked down her pretty nose and given him a shuttered look when he’d asked her why.

You’re not the right type of man for me, Alej.

He hadn’t known what she’d meant, not at first. He’d been rough and unsophisticated back then. He’d seen the uncomfortable look which had crossed her features. The way she’d licked her lips, like someone being forced to eat cat food. Like a fool he had asked her, unable to believe that Emily—his Emily—could look at him so condescendingly, as if she’d never met him before.

You’re illegitimate.

And that matters? he remembered demanding incredulously.

It matters to me.

He’d wanted to tell her that his mother might not wear a wedding ring on her finger, but that his father was someone whose wealth and position could easily eclipse that of her stepfather. But he hadn’t done that, because at heart Alejandro Sabato was a proud man. And, in view of what had subsequently happened, thank God he hadn’t.

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