She kept repeating to herself that she would get over it sometime soon. And that surely his lies and manipulation were reasons enough to make her despise him? But somehow it didn’t seem to work like that. Instead, she found herself remembering the way he had kissed her and the things he had told her. Things he’d never confided to another soul. Didn’t that mean anything? No, it didn’t, she reminded herself sternly. It meant nothing at all. It was game-playing Alej at his best—the politician who never was! The man who’d done his best to whittle away at her defences and manipulate her emotions.
Only her finances were giving her reasons to be cheerful—and on many different levels. She wondered if Alej had expected her to refuse the massive fee he’d paid to marry her—in which case, he was going to be disappointed! Ignoring Great-Aunt Jane’s protests, Emily was using most of the money to help secure her elderly relative’s new home in sheltered housing accommodation—and the peace of mind this gave them both was incalculable.
And business was suddenly doing very well indeed. She and Marybeth had acquired a steady stream of new clients, which had meant they’d had to take on an extra member of staff—a hard-working young woman called Sophie, who fitted in immediately. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to work out that their new, super-cool reputation had come about as a result of mixing with a certain billionaire Argentinian. This naturally attracted lots of interest, yet somehow Emily’s polite but detached attitude managed to stop the most avid questioners in their tracks. So that when someone inevitably enquired where her husband was, she would reply, ‘He’s away on business at the moment,’ while daring anyone to ask more.
And nobody did. At least, not until Emily walked into the office one morning and Marybeth looked up at her with narrowed eyes.
‘You haven’t worn your wedding ring since you got back.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Nope.’
She didn’t want to be one of those women who rehashed the whole heartbreak of a broken relationship to her friend, thus forcing herself to relive it, over and over again. And she didn’t want Marybeth calling Alej names, because she was the only one who was allowed to do that. She had given it her best shot—that she had failed was down to the people they both were and the things which had happened to them. Her lies about wanting to sleep with other men had made him seek a primitive kind of revenge. Between them, they’d both helped destroy any possibility of a happy future together—even if Alej had shown any genuine signs of wanting one. Which he hadn’t, Emily reminded herself painfully. He had let her go and was probably supremely happy about it. Even worse—she swallowed, trying to get rid of the rawness which had risen in her throat—he might even be back on the circuit, seducing and allowing himself to be seduced by the most beautiful women the world had to offer. Women he would never really trust, because his trust had been breached and his attitude warped by the lies he’d been told by his mother and by Colette. And by her.
But she knew she couldn’t sit around pining for him for the rest of her life. She had to get out there and start living—even if her heart was hurting. She had to. She wasn’t going to be like her mother, growing increasingly dependent on a bottle of tranquillisers to take the edge off a reality she didn’t like. She had loved and lost, but it happened. It was all part of life.
‘So what are you going to do now?’ Marybeth was saying.
She looked at her friend rather sheepishly. ‘I’ve started riding again. I realised how much I’d missed it.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘Do I look like I’m joking? I can afford one lesson a week—I mean, it’s not like I’m the biggest consumer in the world. There are actually riding stables in Hyde Park, which aren’t as expensive as I thought.’
‘Good for you.’ Marybeth gave her a sly look. ‘And I guess that means you’ll get to wear those sexy new riding clothes you brought back from your honeymoon.’
* * *
The cold wind whipped around him and the rain was lashing so heavily that the short journey from limousine to apartment block meant Alej was as soaked as if he’d just been out sailing on rough seas. He scrolled down the list of names beside each corresponding doorbell until he came to the one which said Emily Green, and then jammed his thumb on the doorbell.
The silence which ensued was so drawn-out that he began to wonder if she was out, despite the assurances of a member of his London office, who had reported back that she’d finally arrived home from work. He glanced at his watch. He supposed she could be asleep already—but at nine o’clock?
And then he heard her voice through the intercom. Her soft and beautiful voice.
‘Hello?’
‘Emily. It’s me.’
He supposed she didn’t have to ask who, since everyone told him his accent was distinctive, but he wasn’t anticipating the long silence which followed, before a strained voice asked a question so low that he had to dip his head forward in order to hear.
‘What do you want?’
He wanted to feel her arms around him and his lips on hers, her soft body wrapping itself around him—that was what he wanted. But he wasn’t really in an ideal bargaining position to state his demands, and certainly not from out here. ‘It’s raining and it’s cold, Emily—’
‘I don’t need a meteo
rological report, thank you. If you don’t like it then go back to Argentina—I believe the weather’s more reliable there!’
‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to you.’ He put his mouth close to the intercom. ‘Now, we can do this one of two ways. You can let me in by pressing the buzzer or I can use a rather more unconventional means to grant entry, and if that involves kicking this door down then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘You wouldn’t dare do that!’ He could hear the bravado in her voice.
‘You want to bet?’
The buzzer sounded and he pushed on the door quickly before it locked him out again, stepping inside to be bathed by the harsh light of the fluorescent strips overhead. Ignoring the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time until he arrived at her front door to find it slightly ajar. Cautiously, he pushed his way inside before shutting it quietly and heading towards the room from which light was streaming onto the wooden floor in the hallway. She was standing in a small sitting room, her back to him, staring out at the diamond glitter of the city lights in the night sky. She must have heard him enter but she spoke without turning round.