Mistresses: In His Bed: The Billionaire's Trophy / Strictly Temporary / Whose Bed Is It Anyway?. Robyn Grady
her nerves and conscience reminded her that she had promised to deliver the companionship he had paid for. ‘Where did Nessa meet Leonides?’
‘She’s known him all her life. His father is the island doctor. Nessa and Leonides started school together, went to uni in tandem and have been a couple virtually ever since.’
‘That’s so romantic,’ Emmie commented. ‘They must know each other so well.’
‘But they’re very young to be getting married,’ Bastian remarked in a tone of disapproval. ‘Nessa’s already talking about starting a family.’
‘Sometimes people know what they want at an early age. What age is she?’
‘The same age as you. Have you similar dreams?’ Bastian enquired a shade drily.
‘Good grief, no!’ Emmie declared with a grimace at the idea. ‘I wouldn’t know what to do with a husband or children. I’m a career girl.’
The pretty little church by the harbour was packed with well-wishers. Bastian settled Emmie into a front pew and left her there because he was standing as Leonides’ best man. Emmie settled back to enjoy the unfamiliar Greek wedding ceremony, which seemed rather more colourful than the English version as the bearded priest swung his incense burner and chanted. Nessa looked ravishingly happy and, seeing the way bride and groom looked at each other, Emmie found that she was smiling until Lilah cast her a chilling glance over a bony shoulder that was pure malice. After posing for photos outside the church in the sunshine with Lilah moving closer to Bastian at every opportunity while giggling girlishly and clinging to his arm, Emmie could only think what bad taste in women Bastian had. Lilah was so horribly fake and gushy. Bastian might be extremely clever in business but he couldn’t be the sharpest tool in the box when he had decided to marry a woman as artificial as Lilah.
The reception back at the house followed, caterers moving around with trays of champagne while Emmie stuck masochistically to water and simmered when Bastian raised a fine ebony brow as though mocking her abstinence. That man, she would surely have killed him outright for his audacity had he meant anything to her, which he didn’t, she assured herself soothingly, taking a seat at the top table while Lilah watched Bastian fan out Emmie’s napkin for her with sullen dark eyes.
‘To forgive is divine,’ Bastian teased.
‘Men hate those they have hurt,’ Emmie shot back at him thinly.
‘But I don’t hate you. You know, if you would try to be logical about this instead of emotional—’
‘I am not being emotional,’ Emmie seethed back at him, rage sparkling in her lovely eyes. He infuriated her. That she still thought he was gorgeous, found her gaze absently lingering on his spectacular bone structure or compelling eyes, only added fuel to her furious resentment.
‘I think you’re a very emotional individual,’ Bastian returned with a derisive edge to his dark drawl.
‘Better than having about as much feeling in me as a block of wood!’
Bastian watched his sister take to the floor with her new husband. Nessa was wreathed in smiles. The job was done and his sister was content, he told himself grimly. Why was he bothering to even try mending fences with the most challenging woman he had ever met? He had always avoided difficult, demanding personalities. His sister caught his eye and swivelled her gaze towards Lilah, and Bastian stood up to lead the chief bridesmaid onto the floor.
Emmie watched in consternation as Bastian led the tiny brunette onto the dance floor. Lilah behaved like a light that had been switched on full beam, all animation, smiles and chatter. Emmie’s mouth folded down at the corners. Maybe he was going to end up back with his ex. They had been together a long time and ties that close weren’t easy to break. Maybe Emmie had simply been a face-saving piece of arm candy on Bastian’s terms, retaliation because Lilah had broken off their engagement. And Lilah was exquisite, there was no denying that. Emmie watched the tiny brunette nestle intimately into Bastian’s tall powerful frame and her hands knotted into fists below the table and her teeth ground together. Typical guy, he had told her to stick to him like glue to keep Lilah at bay and now he was encouraging the other woman. Feeling hot moisture sting her eyes, Emmie was dismayed enough to slide out of her chair and head for the powder room off the main hall.
What on earth was the matter with her? She wasn’t jealous, had never been jealous of a man in her life. No, all that was wrong with her was that she felt foolish and ashamed and humiliated that she had had sex with Bastian. Satisfied with that explanation, Emmie returned to the hall and found Lilah squarely planted in her path.
‘You’re Emmie,’ Lilah remarked with her cut-glass laugh.
And Emmie cringed, thinking, Good grief, he’s told her he was with me last night! There was something so knowing and nasty about Lilah’s scornful smile. ‘And you’re Lilah,’ Emmie responded flatly.
‘Bastian picked you up at the office, I believe—how sweet but how lazy of him. Men can be such bastards,’ Lilah trilled like the evil fairy as Emmie stared down at the brunette feeling sick with embarrassment, guilt and discomfiture. ‘He’s using you to get at me. Don’t you have any pride?’
‘Don’t you?’ Emmie dared. ‘We’re not having this conversation.’
And Emmie swept on past, with her head held high, pale and trembling a little and grateful to have escaped Bastian’s shrewish former fiancée. If the brunette had really cared for him would she ever have risked losing him in the first place? As Emmie crossed the room to Bastian’s side she was seethingly conscious of his stunning dark golden gaze clinging to her. She mightn’t like him but she adored his eyes. Suddenly it was hard to drag oxygen into her lungs and a flock of butterflies were dive-bombing her tummy. He reached out and closed a hand over hers to draw her close with an ease she resented. He seemed to feel no discomfiture at all over what had happened between them the night before. Colour crawled up Emmie’s cheeks, her nostrils flaring on the hot evocative scent of him that close to her, memory dragging her down and down so deep and fast she was lost within seconds. Her heartbeat quickened as she recalled the driving intensity of his body over and inside hers and an instant surge of heat snapped her nipples painfully tight and mushroomed in her pelvis.
‘We need to talk, glyka mou,’ Bastian breathed in a roughened undertone, but it was the very last thing he wanted to do. Her slender body was trembling infinitesimally beneath his arm and that close to the warmth of her he had an instant erection. Hunger was raging through him like a bush fire and all he wanted to do was drag her back to his bed and keep her there fully occupied until he felt normal again, cool again, himself again. Instead he thrust open the door into the conservatory and walked her in there.
‘What are you doing?’ Emmie demanded thinly. ‘I don’t want to be alone with you. The show of togetherness is only for public viewing!’
Smouldering golden eyes fringed by lush black lashes zeroed in on her. ‘Stop fighting with me. It’s childish. I apologised—’
‘The man apologised!’ Emmie scorned. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘You really do know how to press my buttons,’ Bastian growled, golden eyes bright with anger as he hauled her into his arms. ‘We start again afresh now—’
‘No,’ Emmie cut in, face uncertain and hectically pink as she looked up at him, fiercely resisting temptation. He had made a fool of her once; she wouldn’t let him do it to her twice.
‘I want you to be the same way you were with me last night,’ Bastian admitted darkly.
‘A tipsy stupid pushover?’ Emmie snapped. ‘Not a chance!’
He brought his hot devouring lips down on hers and it was like a lethal rocket attack on her treacherous body, sending a wave of melting heat to her feminine core with a kiss so boldly sexual and exciting that it left her head swimming and her knees weak. Her hands clutched at his shoulders to keep her upright, a drowning, quivering, overwhelming awareness