Afterwards, a starry reception spilled over into an adjoining function room, filled with politicians, actors and even members of the British royal family, with whom Alej used to play polo, back in the day. She thought how easily he mixed in such an elevated section of society and how her own guest list was far more modest—though Marybeth’s family certainly made up for any paucity in numbers with their noise and laughter. And then the music began to play for the first dance and, as Alej took her hand and everyone turned towards them, Emily felt as if she was walking onto a giant stage.
Because you are. Because this is all make-believe and none of it is real.
But in that moment it felt real as Alej laced his warm fingers in hers and led her onto the dance floor. As achingly familiar strains filtered into her ears, she wondered if he was deliberately torturing her with a song she hadn’t heard for many years.
‘What made you choose this?’ she questioned, the silk of her wedding gown whispering over the marble floor as she tried and failed to erase the blissful memories of those hot, Argentinian nights.
‘You used to love it.’
She shifted awkwardly but, annoyingly, it only seemed to decrease the space between them. ‘Maybe I did, but not...not any more.’
‘No. Your tastes are more sophisticated these days, perhaps?’
‘It’s not that.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘We’re not the same people any more, Alej. It doesn’t seem appropriate, somehow.’
‘What would you rather they played?’ He spun her round, his eyes glinting hard and green. ‘“Money, Money, Money”?’
She didn’t react to the taunt. ‘Let’s try to keep the hostilities to a minimum for the duration of the reception, shall we?’
‘Then try smiling, Princesa. Instead of looking as if you’re standing on the edge of a deep precipice.’
‘And if I told you that was exactly how I felt?’
His eyes bored into her. ‘And why might that be?’
She hesitated. ‘Because I’m finding this all harder than I imagined it would be.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know!’
Three beats of music followed and Alej tightened his fingers around her waist, because it was the first time she’d let that cool mask of composure slip and inexplicably he found himself wanting to see what was behind it. ‘Do you miss your family?’ he questioned suddenly. ‘Do you wish your mother was here today?’
She tilted her head back and he could see her throat constrict, and the tiny pearl which hung from the end of a fine gold chain quivered at her neck.
‘Yes,’ she admitted, her voice breaking a little, her free hand reaching up to touch the necklace. ‘It’s stupid, but I do. She was a terrible mother in many ways but she was still my mother.’
‘Is that her necklace?’
She nodded. ‘My father bought it for her before they were married. She hardly ever wore it—said it was too cheap—but I love it. Far more than any of those flashy jewels which Paul bought her and which she ended up pawning anyway.’
Alej felt a wave of something approaching sympathy until he quickly reined it back in. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for her. He wanted to feel only the things he could deal with—like lust and anger and the hot, sweet release of fulfilment. Because she’d never given a damn about him and his family, had she? Never even stopped to find out what had happened to his mother. His lying, cheating mother, but—as she herself had just said—his mother all the s
ame. His mouth twisted. Of course she hadn’t. Because the little people were invisible to people like Emily. She might have affected to despise her snobbish stepfather, but maybe she’d absorbed more of his values than she’d been aware of.
He put his lips close to her neck, his voice growing husky. ‘I’m bored with dancing and bored with people watching our every move. How soon before we can escape so that I can consummate this marriage of ours, because I am aching for you, Emily? Can you feel how much?’
‘We can’t...’ Her words tailed off as he slid his thigh between hers. ‘We can’t just leave the reception early in order to go to bed.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because that’s not playing the game we’re supposed to be playing,’ she said sternly, her voice taking on a note of firmness. ‘We have to at least look as if we love each other, even if it isn’t true—otherwise the marriage will appear to be a stunt instead of looking authentic, and that could easily backfire on you.’
‘So how would you like me to manifest my “love” towards you, Emily?’ he taunted, pleased to see her cheeks flush a deep pink in response to his swirling movement, which was making his hardened pelvis thrust against the slippery silk of her wedding gown.
‘We could try having a conversation, rather than making out on the dance floor.’
He bit back a reluctant smile. ‘What do you want to talk about?’