A Ring To Take His Revenge

Antonio considered the possibilities...the amount of the winning purse, the attention from the global press. News of their racing syndicate had ebbed and flowed over the years, but no one could argue with the level of their success. Founded shortly after their university days, it had been the perfect venture for three men who loved the high-stakes world of gambling, horseflesh and adrenaline.

Antonio had once been a serious contender for international-level polo, but that had been before Michael Steele’s actions had all but destroyed his family. Biting back the familiar anger that was never far away from his thoughts of the man, Antonio forced his attention back to the proposition.

‘Can she do it?’ he asked.

Dimitri shrugged, but Danyl seemed to be giving it some thought.

‘Most likely,’ he eventually said.

‘I’m in,’ Antonio stated with an innately Italian shrug of his shoulders. If Mason McAulty managed it, the win would be incredible. If she failed... Well, was there any such thing as bad press? Antonio liked the edge that it would place them on. Hell, he practically lived on it.

‘Why not?’ Dimitri said, throwing his hat into the ring.

Danyl nodded almost reluctantly, his lips a grim line of determination. Antonio might not know the source of the furious look Danyl cast towards the exit Mason Mcaulty had left through, but he very much hoped she knew that she was playing with fire.

‘Whisky?’ Dimitri queried as Antonio finally took his seat.

‘Absolutely,’ Antonio replied, relaxing back and drinking in the sight of his friends. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

‘Say that again and I’ll know you’ve gone soft,’ came Dimitri’s terse reply.

‘If I wanted to listen to a bunch of women gossip, I could have stayed at home and visited the harem,’ Danyl concluded.

Antonio scoffed. ‘You don’t have a harem. If you did we’d never see you.’

But instead of relishing the familiar bond he had with his two closest friends, Antonio found his mind returning to the woman he had just decided to make his new PA.

Emma Guilham...

CHAPTER ONE (#u0c2d3e73-e024-5487-a76f-983a175d9a20)

Eighteen months later...

EMMA SWEPT THE long tendrils of dark hair back from her face and into a discreet neat bun with swift efficiency. Even had she not seen Antonio Arcuri’s occasional frown when a few strands would escape the hold these pins had on her hair, she instinctively knew that this was what her ruthless boss wanted from her. Discretion, speed and efficiency.

As she checked her appearance in the ladies’ bathroom at the New York office of Arcuri Enterprises, the shadowed silver insignia of the letters A and E conjoined in the corner of each large mirror snagged her attention and sent a thrill of satisfaction through her.

She had come so far from her mother’s small but comfortable home on the fringes of Hampstead Heath. She thought back to the quite outrageous way she had been interviewed by Antonio in that limousine, inching its way through London’s Christmas traffic. She had, in her mind, been brazen. But then Emma had honestly thought that she stood no chance of getting the job. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, she had simply spoken the truth.

She had meant every word she’d said, and had stuck to each and every one of them in the last eighteen months. She had fought so hard to be here—to be in New York, to be Antonio Arcuri’s PA. And she wouldn’t let his wholly uncharacteristic, unscheduled and increasingly imminent arrival now put her off her stride.

Ever since the ping had sounded on her phone at one in the morning, alerting her to the fact that Antonio would be back from Italy and in the office in less than six hours, Emma had felt something akin to panic. Only she had assured herself she no longer did panic. Instead, Emma had launched herself out of bed, scanned his appointments and found nothing in his diary to warrant such an unexpected return. So, she had no idea what to expect from her brooding Italian boss.

She had begun to look forward to the times when Antonio was away from the office. Whether it was for his immovable meetings with the other members of the Winners’ Circle syndicate, or his visits to his offices in London, Hong Kong and Italy, she relished the time when she only had to deal with him through the separation of email and the occasional video conference. She welcomed these reprieves from his presence. Because in reality, in the flesh, Antonio was simply...overwhelming.

It was more than his classic good-looks. His bitter-chocolate-coloured eyes, set against defined cheekbones and a determined jaw would be devastating enough on any man. Along with the smooth Italian tan that contrasted with the deep rich wine colour of lips that were almost cruelly sensual. Every inch of him was honed, powerful and predatory. But she knew that even all those attributes combined didn’t matter. It was the vitality—the authority that resonated from his very being—that really called to her.

But she had learned to temper her attraction. Refused to allow it to interfere with her work. She was here to do a job—not to lust after her attractive boss. She refused to fall into the trap so many other women had fallen into. Besides, she had goals—places she wanted to see, things she desperately wanted to do—none of which included Antonio Arcuri.

The door to the large office bathroom slammed open and a string of women rushed in, each armed to the hilt with make-up bags. Emma watched them for a moment, producing the tools of femininity that were used to enhance and seduce, delicately applying a million products as she once had, at the age of seventeen, using them with a heavy hand to mask the ravages of chemotherapy.

But she forced the memory aside. It wasn’t as if Antonio cared at all about her appearance. Just her ability. Emma smiled ruefully at the row of Arcuri’s female staff. Antonio had that effect on women. But not her. She might find her boss devastatingly attractive, but she wasn’t going to be distracted by him.

She wasn’t going to be distracted by any man.

* * *

Settled behind her computer in the outer room of Antonio’s top-floor office, she let a feeling of control and calm wash over her. This was her domain and she loved it.

The clean chrome lines made the CEO’s office on the twenty-fourth floor of the Manhattan skyscraper more than she could ever have imagined. The glass-fronted building afforded a highly sought-after vista of Central Park, allowing incredible views of the famous skyline to be her daily backdrop. The decor screamed money and wealth. Even if she only borrowed it during the day, before returning to her tiny apartment in Brooklyn each night.

Coming to New York had been the first thing Emma had been truly able to check off her Living List, after five years of remission had finally signalled the end of the terrible illness that had taken so much from her. And even if she had stayed in her role as Antonio’s personal assistant for a little longer than she had originally intended, failing to tick off some of the other things on her Living List since coming here...she chose to ignore it. She was happy. And there was always time in the future—in her future.

‘Do you know why he’s here?’

Emma looked up from her desk to find James, a very nervous low-level exec, almost twitching with panic. He swept his glasses off his face, revealing bleary eyes, and cast her a look as other staff, equally nervous, watched from the corridor.

Word of Antonio’s impending arrival must have spread like wildfire for, while it wasn’t unusual to see some of the Arcuri staff beavering away at this ungodly hour of the morning, it was unusual to see all of them. But that was the effect of Antonio Arcuri. He didn’t ask—he expected. He didn’t demand—he simply didn’t have to.

‘Is he here yet?’ James asked now, not waiting for an answer to his first question.

‘Mr Arcuri has business to attend to, nothing more,’ she said reassuringly, not really knowing if that was true or not.

‘It’s just that... Well, given the current climate...’

‘Arcuri Enterprises is strong enough to survive any climate—current or otherwise,’ Antonio’s Italian-accented voice cut in harshly.

Emma hated the way he did that. Crept into rooms like a silent-footed panther. And she felt pity for poor James, who had turned from nervously pale to humiliated red with just one sentence from their boss, before fleeing the room.

Antonio turned on Emma. ‘Why does everyone look as if they’re about to get fired?’ he demanded angrily.

Emma resisted the urge to sigh. He was clearly in that mood. A mood which made it easier for her to resist eating up the sight of his six-foot-plus powerful and lean frame.

‘It is a little unusual for you to break your trip to Italy.’

‘I need Danyl and Dimitri on a conference call immediately. And I need you to start a research file on Benjamin Bartlett. Everything and anything you can find on him and his company,’ he said, throwing the last over his shoulder as he moved towards his office.

‘I’ll get the research team on it right away.’

‘No,’ Antonio said, pausing mid-stride. ‘No one else is to know. I want you to handle it personally.’

With that, he stalked into his office, slamming the door behind him, and Emma sighed again. She closed the open folder on her desk concerning the Arcuri Foundation’s charity gala—a project she had already invested much of her spare time in—knowing that she would have to take it home that evening. And as she dialled the numbers she knew by heart to get Dimitri and Danyl, she wondered just who Benjamin Bartlett was and why he was so important.

* * *

Antonio Arcuri willed the adrenaline coursing through his veins to subside. He discarded his suit jacket on the sofa and instead of taking a seat at his desk stalked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows fronting his office and flexed his hands.

He had decided to give the task of researching Benjamin Bartlett to Emma on the flight back here from his mother’s house in Sorrento. He had been impressed with his calm, unflappable PA over the past eighteen months. Eighteen months in which he’d ruthlessly tamped down his initial and very much unwanted sensual interest in her from the moment she had stepped into the limousine on his way to the Asquith club in London.