A Ring To Take His Revenge. Pippa Roscoe
to attend.’
‘Well, he is running a country.’
Emma wasn’t so sure. She’d heard angry words in the background when she was on the phone to his assistant. There had been something behind the bitterly shouted phrase, ‘I wouldn’t go back to that hotel if you paid me!’ that had made Emma concerned that her suggested location for the gala might be a mistake.
But there was nothing online other than praise for this exquisite, world-renowned hotel. A hotel she’d heard of even back in London, when she’d scoured the press reports of its grand opening. She might never be able to afford to stay in the amazing hotel herself, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t experience it vicariously through work.
‘Why?’ Antonio asked, and Emma wondered briefly if she’d missed something.
‘Why, what?’
‘Why did you invite them?’
‘I thought that you might need some independent advice on your choice.’
Antonio looked at her, but she was unable to divine his thoughts.
‘Wingmen—I thought you might need wingmen,’ she clarified.
‘Emma,’ he said, with censure heavy on his tongue. ‘I have never needed a wingman.’
And the answering shivers that rippled through her body told her just how right he was.
* * *
As she did at most events Antonio attended for work, Emma stayed discreetly behind him during the initial introductions, her quietly whispered words prompting him with the names of the gala’s guests and their partners. There had been times in the past when the additional information she provided had saved him from embarrassment—especially once when Antonio had nearly mistaken a man’s mistress for his wife.
He was surprised to see so many recognisable faces. He could honestly say that he had never given this gala a first thought, let alone a second. If it didn’t contribute to bringing Michael Steele down, it didn’t matter to him. Marcus Greenfeld—the man Antonio had inherited along with the foundation he had secured for Arcuri Enterprises all those years ago—had never demanded anything of him and he liked it that way. Antonio had never taken to the man.
‘Natasha.’
Emma’s voice cut through his thoughts. He turned to find her welcoming the statuesque and considerably beautiful black woman making her way towards him.
‘How lovely to see you again,’ Emma said, kissing the woman on both cheeks.
The answering smile spoke of a friendship between the two and he instantly recognised the woman as fiancée option number one.
‘Natasha—allow me to introduce you to Antonio Arcuri. Antonio—Natasha Eddings,’ she said, gently proffering the woman to him like a gift, before swiftly disappearing to leave him alone with her.
Within minutes Antonio didn’t have to bring to mind Emma’s handwritten scrawl on her brief bio—This is my favourite—to see why Natasha was Emma’s choice. Natasha was articulate and intelligent, beautiful and, in short, practically perfect. But while she might meet his requirements, he had the odd impression that he did not meet hers.
‘It would seem that my usual and widely reported charm might be falling a little flat this evening,’ he remarked, testing his theory.
Natasha smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Arcuri. Emma did explain to me the delicate nature of your...interest,’ she said, clearly searching for suitable phrasing.
A shiver of alarm passed through him quickly, but she pressed on.
‘I assure you that I don’t know why—only that you are looking for a fiancée—and no one will hear about it from me. I know that Emma has not spoken to anyone else of it. But...’
‘You are perhaps involved with someone?’ he offered, giving Natasha a way out.
‘I am. Whoever you choose will be a lucky woman. I am sure of it. But I’m afraid I am not she.’ Natasha smiled gently, smoothing any potentially ruffled feathers.
‘Rest assured, Natasha, whoever he is,’ he said, referring to her involvement, ‘he is the lucky one.’
The smile that lit her features was bright and spectacular.
‘Thank you. May I offer a suggestion, Mr Arcuri?’
When he nodded his assent, she continued.
‘Perhaps you don’t have to be looking so far afield.’
With that, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Antonio with a thought that was matched only by a growing suspicion on his part. But the clinking of glass interrupted his partially formed idea, sounding out the fact that the opening speech from Marcus Greenfeld was about to begin.
Having prepared himself for the most boring fifteen minutes of his life, Antonio was faintly surprised at the warm, heartfelt introduction given by the man as he clearly outlined the charity’s main functions. Though his voice was slightly stilted, the words were full of compassion and drive—and were, in a sense, a call to arms.
Looking across the audience, he saw them resonate, and a ripple of emotion shuddered through each of the attendees that he, himself, was not immune to. The only thing preventing the speech from being truly inspirational was the man delivering it.
From the corner of his eye Antonio saw his CFO, David Grant, approach quietly, and they greeted each other with a fond nod of welcome.
‘I have to say,’ Antonio said in hushed tones, ‘Greenfeld’s doing much better than I remember.’
His CFO frowned, then smiled. ‘Ah... I heard that it was down to you, but now I’m beginning to think that your PA has been sprinkling her magic fairy dust over his speech—as well as over this gala.’
Antonio was confused. What had Emma to do with all this?
David let out a gruff laugh. ‘For the last two months Emma has been running interference with Greenfeld and doing everything possible to ensure this night is an unusual success. You’re always out of the country for this event, but it’s been growing steadily more boring and more dull each year. It was Emma’s decision to move the gala to The Langsford and provide gift packages for the guests. Not to mention rewriting the speech. She’s done wonders.’
Wonders, indeed. Antonio was about to voice his frustration at the fact that his perfect PA had effectively been moonlighting, but David’s next words stopped him short.
‘I suppose it’s only natural, given her personal experience. Cancer research is one of the main focuses of the Arcuri Foundation, and that clearly makes her the perfect support for the event.’
Antonio stared at his CFO. Cancer? Emma had experienced cancer?
A roar sounded in his ears and it took him a moment to realise that it was the sound of the guests applauding.
* * *
Emma had watched Greenfeld’s speech from the sidelines of the large entertainment suite at the top of The Langsford. She had pretended to be checking the gala’s gift bags, ensuring that the male and female packages were all present and contained the small bottles of champagne a local winery had been happy to supply. Other companies had also lent their support, through handmade bracelets and perfume for the women, aftershave and cufflinks for the men.
She knew she’d thrown Antonio’s name around as if it was currency, but it had been worth it. And if her boss took issue with it, then she would set him straight. Tonight the gala was predicted to raise more money in donations than the last two events put together.
Once again she was pushing something bigger than herself out into the world, and this time she could do some actual good. Funding would reach beyond the not so small world of Arcuri Enterprises and help people—really