By the time that they left the suite Emma was thankful for the reminder that their relationship was purely a business arrangement.
By the time they got to the lobby Emma had put away the childish hurt and pulled her armour back into place.
By the time the limousine arrived at the restaurant where they were to meet Bartlett, Emma was ready to do battle and slay dragons to help Antonio secure investment in Bartlett’s company.
She had felt the hurt emanating from Antonio the night before as he’d told her of his childhood. She could see how important it was to him and wanted to gift him something of what he’d given her... The ability to reach for what it was that she wanted.
The lounge area of the famous Amore por la Comida restaurant spread out before them, coloured in rich amethyst hues set off perfectly by the gol
den twinkling stars piercing the night sky that could be seen from the windows surrounding all sides of the bar and seating areas.
The impeccably mannered head waiter was about to show them to the table when Emma felt Antonio stiffen beside her. A shiver rippled through his body like a shock wave, and she looked about them to see what might have caused it.
Coming towards them was a tall suited man she had never met before. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she was forced to turn away from the frigid glare in his crystal blue eyes.
Instinctively she knew that this was Michael Steele, Antonio’s father, and she couldn’t help the way her hand slipped into the crook of Antonio’s arm, as if trying to hold on to him, support him, give him something to warm the air that had suddenly cooled about them.
* * *
Antonio should have known. And perhaps deep down he had. Because his father’s appearance didn’t surprise him as much as it should have. He felt the drive of renewed determination fuel him. Indignation was but a second thought.
‘Antonio,’ Michael said as he drew close to them. ‘I’d say that it’s good to see you, but we both know that would be a lie.’
The charming, almost warm, smooth voice sharpened the harshness of his words.
‘Why are you here?’
Antonio knew from bitter experience that the less he said to his father the better. He wondered whether Michael would have the gall to admit that he was here, at this exact place and time, because of his meeting with Bartlett. Clearly Michael had his informants, just as Antonio had his.
A cold smile graced lips that should be as familiar to Antonio as his own. In the three years since he’d last seen his father Michael Steele had grown in his mind to monstrous proportions. Instead, all he saw was an old man before him. But Antonio knew that appearances were deceiving and his whole body was on guard.
‘Well, I heard rumours about the notorious Winners’ Circle syndicate trying to win the hat-trick at the Hanley Cup. Surely that’s a feat worth watching? If it succeeds. It would be such a shame if you were to fall at the first hurdle, so to speak. And, of course, it’s a chance to catch up with old friends.’
Antonio bit back a curse. The man had absolutely no interest in the Winners’ Circle, and his allusion to ‘old friends’ could only mean Bartlett.
‘I’m surprised you have any friends left, Michael.’
Anger had made him weak and he hadn’t been able to prevent the snide comment falling from his lips.
‘Come, now. There’s no need to resort to childish swipes at your father.’ Michael Steele barely allowed time for the reproach to strike before picking up yet another thread of venom. ‘And this must be your convenient fiancée.’
The dismissive gesture of Michael’s hands irritated him less than the fact that his father didn’t even bother looking at Emma, let alone acknowledging her in any other way than by reference. Fury scoured him inside out, coursed through his veins. Antonio had long since stopped caring about the painful barbs Michael might throw in his direction, but he would not countenance any rudeness towards Emma.
‘Her name is Emma. And you’ll afford her the respect she deserves.’
‘Respect? For a PA who miraculously becomes your fiancée when you so desperately need your reputation intact? How much did she charge you? I bet she’s worth every penny of that green sapphire on her finger.’
His father’s ice-cool eyes turned white-hot in a second and Antonio wanted to reach out and grab the man by the throat. But that was exactly what his father wanted. To cause a scene. To create a scandal that would make him look like the victim. Just the way he had done with his mother during the divorce.
Antonio had spent years studying his father’s playbook, and he would not allow himself to rise to the taunt.
‘Priceless,’ he replied to his father’s taunt.
‘What?’ he heard his father ask in confusion.
‘Emma,’ he stated, turning to her, locking his gaze with hers as if it were the only thread he could tie himself to amongst the seething emotions that were threatening to drown him.
She didn’t show shock, fear or resentment—just curiosity, as if she too wanted to know what he meant.