Emma fought to contain the rather un-ladylike snort that tickled her nose. It sounded as if he were looking to buy a prize heifer with an up-to-date vaccination history. Which made her wonder, horrified for a moment, whether the poor woman in question might in fact be required to present a full medical history.
‘And I need her within two days.’
‘Antonio, I’m not Amazon Prime. I can’t just produce a...a fiancée,’ she whispered harshly, fearing that she might be overheard, or even accused of some kind of highly salacious ‘procurement’ for her boss. ‘Perhaps if you could explain the...the context, it might be slightly easier for me to...to understand what’s needed.’
She knew she was stumbling over her words but, given his current mood, she clearly had to choose them wisely.
‘I am about to set up a meeting with Benjamin Bartlett, who is touting for investment in his company. A company in which I must be the sole investor. And, being a notoriously moral man, Bartlett might be reluctant to involve himself with Arcuri Enterprises given...’ He trailed off, circling his hands in a typically Italian gesture.
‘Given your recent experience with Inga the Swedish—?’
‘I know what she was, Ms Guilham,’ Antonio cut in.
‘Quite. So you need a beard?’
Antonio’s hand went to the smooth planes of his chiselled jaw. ‘A beard?’
‘Not that kind of beard,’ she said, suppressing the smile that toyed at the edges of her mouth. ‘You need a fake fiancée to mask your previous indiscretions so that Bartlett will find you more palatable and therefore be more likely to welcome your investment.’
‘In a nutshell, yes.’
‘And am I to presume that all of this—’ she said mirrored his Italian gesture ‘—needs to be kept under wraps? No one is to know about this, as well as the research into Bartlett?’
He nodded his dark-haired head once. ‘There is another party interested in investing with Bartlett. My interest cannot get out to that person—or any other for that matter.’
The darkness of the warning in his voice was something that Emma hadn’t yet encountered in her boss. And that in itself was enough to inform her that this wasn’t to be taken lightly.
Her quick mind filed the top-line notes of his request. ‘Okay. I’m going to need to clear your schedule tomorrow evening.’
This was why Emma was good, Antonio thought to himself. Apart from the slight slip-up of her earlier sarcasm, which he would happily put down to surprise, when she took on a task she was efficient, direct and held none of the self-doubt he had seen in staff twice her age.
He knew her announcement of his change of plan for tomorrow would be wholly and one hundred per cent in line with her new-found task. A task that she hadn’t balked at, and had only posed pertinent questions on. Mostly.
‘Done.’
‘I’ll have your blue tuxedo sent to the dry cleaners and prepared for the gala.’
‘What gala?’ Antonio queried.
‘The Arcuri Foundation’s yearly charity gala. You are usually in Italy during these two weeks, which is why you are never sent an invitation.’
‘We have a charity gala?’
For the first time in eighteen months Antonio was surprised to see something like anger in Emma Guilham’s eyes.
‘Yes, we do.’ She paused, once again masking her obvious feelings on the matter with her legendarily cool gaze. ‘And it will be the perfect place for you to find a fiancée.’
CHAPTER TWO
ANTONIO HAD SPENT the last twenty-four hours going over the research files Emma had put together on Bartlett—and the other research she had provided.
If he found anything distasteful about looking at the pictures and brief biographies Emma had collated of several of the single female attendees of that evening’s event, he ruthlessly forced it aside. He had but one goal. And tonight would be the first step in achieving it.
Emma buzzed on the intercom, interrupting his thoughts to announce that the car was there to take them to The Langsford Hotel. Although it was only a fifteen-minute walk from the office, and he’d been inclined to make that walk, Emma had swiftly denounced the idea, saying that it wouldn’t ‘do’ to have the CEO of Arcuri Enterprises walking up to the red carpet in front of the world’s press. After all, she had said, she was apparently now in the business of safeguarding his reputation.
He’d repressed a smile. He was beginning to enjoy these brief glimpses of a dry English humour that she had hidden from him until now. Pulling at the sleeves of the tuxedo’s jacket to fit them to the lines of his arms and torso, he opened the door to his office—and stopped.
Emma was perched on the end of her desk, leaning over towards the phone and looking quite unlike any way he’d seen look before.