So many people crowded around them, eager to meet Emma, as he'd known they would be. He kept her close as they moved around throughout the evening, talking briefly to as many people as he could, trying to get a feel for what the undercurrents were. Conspiracy. He smelled it. Tasted it. Inevitably, as the night wore on, he heard the soft whisper of it and satisfaction slid through him.
"I think I've found what I was looking for, Emma. I'm going to join the group of men over by the window and lead them into talking about real estate. Sooner or later they'll ask me if I'm willing to sell my company. You'd be a major distraction to all of us, me especially. I need to concentrate on nuances. I'll get you a glass of wine and I want you to sit on the couch in the middle of the room. People will come up and talk to you, probably even the enemies, so if you can't handle it, give me a signal and I'll get you out of the situation."
"But you need time."
"As much time as you can buy me."
"So, really, I'm the distraction to keep your enemies away from you."
He nodded. "I hate having to use you like this, but no one is going to talk if Trent or Cathy and Ryan are in on the conversation. The moment you sit down and I leave you, the three of them will be unable to resist and they'll swarm around you like bees to honey."
"Which is why you didn't want me leaving your side. You wanted to control when they approached me."
Jake studied her upturned face. It was difficult to read Emma at times. She seemed to be such an open book, yet right now, he had no idea what she was thinking. He caught her chin. "Are you upset with me?"
"No, I know this is important, Jake." She rolled her engagement ring back and forth on her finger. "But if we're going to be partners, you're going to have to start trusting me enough to talk to me about what's going on."
"I don't want trouble touching you."
She swept her hand around the room. "But it's already touching me. And maybe the children. I want to be a partner to you, not another burden." She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his chin. "Get me my wine. The sooner this is done, the better off we'll be."
He squeezed her fingers, tucked her hand behind him and made his way through the crowd. People parted for him, opening a path to the bar. There were several bartenders. One was free, but Jake didn't move forward. Another lifted his head to indicate he was ready but Jake ignored him. A third, Evan, served two people and Jake simply stood back, something out of character for him. Emma knew he expected--and got--instant service.
"Red wine," he ordered softly. "Something good."
Evan reached under the bar, ignoring the bottles already opened, and poured two glasses, handing them to Jake, not acknowledging Emma. The bottle disappeared back under the bar.
Emma took the glass, letting him lead her to the leather sofa, which was occupied by several people. Jake stared at them until they moved. He sat her down and brushed a kiss on the top of her head. "Wait right here for me."
Emma nodded and took a cautious sip of the wine. It was good, and she wasn't that much of a wine connoisseur. She watched Jake walk away from her. There was something so fluid and confident about the way he moved, like water flowing over rock, nothing getting in his way. He was a formidable opponent, and it occurred to her, not for the first time, that she was in way over her head.
"Ms. Reynolds?"
Emma felt her stomach tighten. She forced a smile up at Cathy Bannaconni.
"My dear, may I call you Emma? I feel so bad about our unfortunate first meeting and was hoping for an opportunity to apologize and maybe explain?" The older woman held out her hand, smiling bravely.
Emma automatically took the woman's hand. Cathy patted her hand and then pulled away. As she did so, her sharp, bloodred nail raked across Emma's inner wrist.
Emma's hand jerked, although she managed not to spill her wine. A long, angry scratch beaded blood along her wrist.
Cathy gasped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry. How clumsy of me. Let me get you a napkin." She hurried away before Emma could protest, returning with a linen cloth dipped in cold water. "I really shouldn't wear my nails so long. It's just a weird little habit of mine."
Emma wrapped the cloth along the stinging scratch, holding the cool, soothing wetness against the angry slice. "I'm fine. It's really nothing."
"You're so sweet to be so understanding." Cathy gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm certain my son has told you all sorts of stories about me. Now I've probably added to my terrible image after our disastrous first meeting."
"Jake doesn't talk about you," Emma said.
Cathy's eyes narrowed. She inhaled sharply. A slow, humorless smile curved her mouth. "That's good, dear. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I was so concerned about my grandson. Jake can be quite cruel." Her gaze dwelt on the fading bruises still evident on Emma's skin. "But having lived with him these past two years, I'm sure you're already very aware of that."
Emma's murmur was noncommittal. She glanced up as Jake turned to check on her. He raised an eyebrow and she shook her head, indicating she could handle the conversation with his mother. There had to be a reason Cathy Bannaconni had sought her out, and she was going to find out what the reason was.
"I have something you might like, dear," Cathy said. "Now that you'll be my daughter-in-law. I read the announcement in the papers. There was quite a write-up, although they said very little about your family and their connections. I thought that strange, didn't you?"
Emma stiffened, going still inside. She took a sip of the wine Jake had brought to her. He had been very specific not to accept a drink or allow it to leave her hand, even for a moment. When Cathy scratched her, she'd retained possession of the fine, long-stemmed glass, and when she was forced to put it down, to lay the cooling cloth across the scratch, she'd watched her drink carefully. What did Cathy know about her?
"Aren't you even curious what I have? It belonged to your father."
She waited a heartbeat. Two. She needed the time to keep her voice normal. "How would you have something that belonged to my father?"
"Miss? Would you care for something to eat?" A young waiter presented a tray first to Emma and, when she shook her head, to Cathy. Emma barely concealed a smile as she recognized Sean. She felt much safer and her stomach settled a little.
Impatiently Cathy waved him off. "Your father was a dear friend of mine."
The words were tainted with untruth.
A shadow fell across her as a large, extremely handsome man loomed over her. He must have been in his sixties, but he looked younger. There was that same sensual stamp on his face, that mark of dangerously alluring cruelty to his mouth that Jake had, although he looked nothing at all like Jake. She stared up at his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, although she was certain she'd never seen him before. She inhaled deeply and scented depravity.
"This is Josiah, dear. Josiah Trent. Josiah, this is Jake's delightful fiancee. Josiah is your father's uncle, dear."
For a moment she couldn't breathe. She actually felt dizzy, the room spinning alarmingly. She looked around, her vision blurring a little. Sean, instead of circulating around the room, was hovering just a few feet away, and that steadied her a little. Two men, just beyond the couch, were watching her intently, eyes narrowed and focused, and she sensed evil in the pair. Drake was just to the right of her, leaning one hip against the wall, talking, but she knew he was watching her every move. Joshua wasn't in her line of vision, which meant he was somewhere behind her. Jake was across the room, within shouting distance, although the music and conversations seemed abnormally loud all of a sudden. Emma let out her breath, forcing herself to remain calm. She was safe as long as she was out in the open.
"My father's uncle? You're my father's uncle?"
Trent enveloped her hand with his, patting as if to soothe her. One finger slid over the cloth on her wrist, pressing it deeper against the scratch on her arm so that it burned and she jerked her arm away. "You have no idea how long we've been searching for you. After my
nephew's death, we lost track of you. It seems Jake managed to find and . . ." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Win you for himself."
Emma extracted her hand and took another sip of wine. Her gaze met Sean's. Immediately he shifted off the wall and hurried over, bending down with the tray. It gave her a few moments to think as she chose a small bacon-wrapped quiche.
"Thank you. These are delicious." She knew she sounded grateful, which would only give Cathy and Trent an advantage. They would know they were getting to her.
"You're supposed to circulate," Cathy hissed to the waiter. She made an odd noise deep in her throat, somewhere between a growl and a rumble that was menacingly soft. Her eyes glowed ruby red in the dim light.
"Yes, ma'am," he said and moved away.