Mistresses: In His Bed: The Billionaire's Trophy / Strictly Temporary / Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

Bastian hauled her up against him and sat down on the side of a raised bath.

‘Don’t you dare try to help me take my clothes off!’ Emmie warned him.

Face taut with frustration, Bastian lowered her limp body down onto the tiled floor. ‘Do you really think I’m likely to touch you inappropriately in the condition you’re in?’ he enquired angrily.

Shivering violently with the chill of her damp clothing, Emmie rested her brow down on her raised knees. ‘Just leave me…I’ll be OK—’

‘You really do have a very low opinion of me, don’t you?’ Bastian growled like an angry bear.

‘Sorry,’ Emmie whispered, on the edge of tears because she felt so weak while she was now also being tormented by the disastrous start she had made to her weekend with Bastian. So much for the girlfriend he wanted to use as cover! One minute inside the door she had taken a header into the pool and rendered herself unconscious and a liability.

In answer, Bastian trailed her sweater off over her head and tossed it aside. He draped a towelling robe round her pale slight shoulders, gazing down at her while wondering why she looked so absurdly vulnerable, fluffy lashes drooping, full lower lip trembling. He didn’t get involved with women who looked that breakable and had no idea what to do with her.

Emmie managed to dig her arms into the sleeves of the robe to at least cover her bra. She felt absolutely humiliated as Bastian lifted her upright again, urging her to hang onto the edge of the vanity while he freed her from her trousers with as much seductive intent as he might have used towards a cardboard cut-out. She thought of the surgical scars marring her leg and hoped he wouldn’t notice them. Tears stung her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about this!’

‘Why are you apologising?’ Bastian demanded impatiently while he struggled to behave like a man of honour and not sneak a glance at the truly spectacular female figure he had briefly unveiled. Unfortunately his own body was rather less disciplined and was already betraying him with very masculine efficiency. He cursed under his breath, wondering what it was about her that made his hormones react as if she were a rocket attack. She was destroying his self-discipline and he was well aware that experiencing desire while she was feeling wretched was the act of a selfish, unfeeling bastard. Which he was, Bastian fully accepted that, knew he was no candidate for sainthood. Of course, he wasn’t going to do anything about the inconvenient way she made him respond with every flash of those stunning blue eyes, he reminded himself grimly. But with bleak humour he recalled how he had suspected that she might go out of her way to lure him into having sex with her. It was a suspicion that now struck him as insane. There she was hunched in the robe as though she were in the presence of a ravening beast of masculinity likely to rip it off her; no, there was nothing flirtatious or seductive about her behaviour. When had he got so big-headed that he assumed that every woman wanted him? And why was he even thinking such peculiar things?

‘I gather you got me out of the pool.’ Emmie guessed the reason for his lack of clothing.

‘Ne…yes,’ he confirmed in English.

Emmie walked back into the bedroom slowly and made for the bed. ‘I just want to lie down for a while and then I’ll get dressed and come downstairs to join you,’ she promised.

‘I don’t think so. We’ll abide by what the doctor advises when he arrives.’

Having settled back against the pillows, Emmie looked at him and turned bright red. He wasn’t shy anyway. Poised in what appeared to be the doorway of another room, he had cast off the towel and was pulling on a pair of black boxers. Perhaps he didn’t realise that she could see his astonishingly beautiful tawny body rippling with well-honed muscle with every fluid movement. She closed her eyes tight shut. She wanted to apologise again but knew that irritated him and sealed her lips, watching him leave, shockingly elegant again in a dark grey suit. Two less suited personalities than she and Bastian had never been born.

A knock sounded on the door and Emmie sat up to see a young blonde woman looking in at her. ‘Do you feel well enough for a visitor?’ she asked with a smile. ‘I’m Bastian’s sister, Nessa.’

‘Of course, come in,’ Emmie encouraged awkwardly, thinking that she would never have known to look at brother and sister that they were even distantly related, for Nessa was small, curvy and blonde.

‘I’ve never seen my brother move so fast in his life as when he dived into the pool.’

‘Sorry for all the fuss.’ Emmie sighed ruefully. ‘Who knocked into me?’

‘One of my teenaged cousins. His parents are really embarrassed and they wanted to come up and apologise because it could have been a serious accident,’ Nessa pointed out. ‘We’re very lucky that Bastian realised you’d hit your head going into the water.’

‘I’m all right though. Accidents happen,’ Emmie responded lightly.

‘How’s your head?’ Nessa asked ‘Do you mind if I stay a while?’

‘I have a bump, that’s all. Of course you can stay,’ Emmie answered, charmed by Nessa’s smiling friendliness.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Bastian’s sister prompted worriedly, touching Emmie’s hand. ‘My goodness, your skin is icy cold! Get into bed and warm up. I’ll get you a drink!’

Emmie scrambled below the duvet and rested her head back on the piled up pillows, very much appreciating Nessa’s kind-heartedness because it made her feel less of a nuisance. ‘You should be with your guests,’ she said guiltily.

‘Technically they’re Bastian’s guests because this is his house but they’re all family,’ Nessa told her, disappearing through one of the doors and reappearing with a glass, which she thrust into Emmie’s hand. ‘Drink it. I’m sure I read some place that it’s good for someone in shock.’

Emmie drank and then began to cough as brandy burned the back of her throat, for she really hadn’t expected to be given an alcoholic drink. The rich liquid raced like a flame though down into her chilled tummy.

‘So, tell me about you and Bastian…’ Nessa perched on the bed beside Emmie, bright brown eyes leaping with warmth and curiosity. ‘I was over the moon when I realised he’d met someone else, and so quickly too…like magic—’

‘Oh, yes, pure magic,’ Emmie agreed uneasily, thinking how very young and refreshingly unspoilt Nessa seemed.

‘You are so beautiful!’ Nessa commented with satisfaction. ‘Lilah will tear her hair out when she sees you—’

‘As long as it’s not mine. I don’t want to upset anyone—’

‘I know she’s one of my bridesmaids but she’s treated my brother very badly,’ Nessa proclaimed, condemnation tightening her pretty face. ‘He deserved better and she should have dropped out of my wedding, not insisted on carrying out her role when it’s no longer appropriate.’

‘Perhaps Lilah didn’t want to let you down,’ Emmie suggested, sipping at the brandy while appreciating that Bastian’s sister was not at all attached to her brother’s former fiancée.

‘No, she wants Bastian back,’ Nessa contradicted, her conviction sending a current of alarm through Emmie. ‘She doesn’t know my brother as well as she thinks she does though. He’s tough—’

‘I know.’

‘He had to be tough. By the time he was eighteen years old he had lived through four divorces and three stepmothers. People don’t understand what he went through and what all that did to him,’ Nessa declared, fiercely defensive of her half sibling. ‘My mother was the only one who didn’t treat him badly.’

‘That’s something to be grateful for,’ Emmie soothed, curious but keen to stem the flood of information, which she did not feel entitled to receive because she knew Bastian wouldn’t appreciate her knowing such private stuff.

‘Bastian’s never had a family life. He doesn’t know what one is.’

‘Childhood can be challenging,’ Emmie commented vaguely, touched by Nessa’s innocence, comprehending why her brother was prepared to go to such lengths to ensure she wasn’t upset on her wedding day.

Nessa grimaced. ‘Well, I was lucky. I was spoilt rotten by my mum. But Bastian didn’t have an easy time.’

‘He’s a very confident, private man,’ Emmie remarked with gentle emphasis.

‘That’s why I’m telling you this—so that you understand him better. I mean, if you’re waiting for him to tell you anything, you’ll wait for ever.’ Nessa pulled a comic face on the score of her brother’s reticence. ‘The minute I heard you worked with him I knew you would be a normal woman and that’s exactly what I think he needs.’

The two women were interrupted by another knock on the door, telegraphing the arrival of the doctor with Bastian in tow.

‘You don’t need to stay,’ Emmie informed Bastian with a stiff smile.

‘I’m afraid I do. Dr Papadopoulos doesn’t speak any English.’

Suppressing the suspicion that she would never ever get the last word with Bastian, Emmie nodded agreement, poker-faced. Bastian translated the doctor’s questions and then Emmie’s head was examined. The older man finally said that he thought that there wasn’t much wrong with her that couldn’t be cured by a good night’s sleep. He then gave her painkillers for her headache and departed.

‘I’ll get up now,’ Emmie told Bastian before he could leave with the doctor.

‘You heard the doctor…rest,’ Bastian spelt out grittily, noting that the mascara streaks on her cheeks suggested that she had been crying and was probably not half as composed as she would like him to believe. ‘I would have been happier if he had agreed you needed to be checked out at the nearest hospital.’

‘I’m OK…and this household doesn’t need all that fuss the night before Nessa’s wedding,’ Emmie reasoned, knowing that that would carry more weight with him than any other argument.

‘You could go home and try to sue me,’ Bastian commented grimly.

Emmie groaned out loud. ‘I’m not going to sue anyone. I’m not like that.’