Margaret Mayo - His Virgin Bride - The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought - For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences

‘I don’t know what to do, Emma,’ Simone sobbed. ‘I’m so scared. When I picked up Chelsea from school I was sure we were being followed.’

‘Have you called the police?’ Emma asked, her heart thumping in alarm.

‘I can’t do that,’ Simone said. ‘You know how they treated me the last time when they came looking for Brendan. They thought I was lying about not knowing where he was or that he was using drugs. They made me feel like a criminal too.’

Emma chewed at her lip. Simone had always had it tough. In the past she had been there so many times for Emma, protecting her from one or both of their parents’ drug-fuelled rages until finally the authorities had stepped in and placed both girls in foster homes. And then at the age of nineteen Simone had finally found happiness with David Harrison, but he had been killed in a motorcycle accident just six weeks after Chelsea had been born.

‘Listen, Simone, I have a plan.’ Emma took a shaky breath and continued, ‘It turns out the man I was nursing left me quite a bit of money in his will. It might take a few days to get it to you, but if you can tell this man Brendan owes the money to that you will settle the debt, perhaps things will calm down until you get some legal advice.’

‘But, Emma, it’s such a lot of money,’ Simone said in anguish. ‘I’ll never be able to repay you, even if I do manage to take Brendan to court over this. It’s not as if he’s ever going to have any money to pay the legal fees, let alone the debt, even if the police do manage to track him down and arrest him.’

‘I don’t want to be repaid, Simone. I just want you and Chelsea to be safe,’ Emma insisted. ‘If things go according to plan you’ll have enough money to relocate to another suburb or even to another state and make a fresh start.’

‘Oh, Emma, that would be a dream come true,’ Simone choked. ‘I hate this place. It reminds me of our childhood, living with Mum and Dad stoned out of their brains all the time. I can’t believe I didn’t see it in Brendan. He was always so charming and loving. How could I have got it so wrong?’

‘It’s not your fault, Simone,’ Emma said. ‘You know what drugs do to people. They turn them into someone else. You have to move on for Chelsea’s sake. It’s not safe for her to be in such an environment.’

‘You’re right,’ Simone said. ‘If Dave was still alive he’d be so ashamed of me for subjecting Chelsea to this.’

‘Honey, don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Emma said. ‘I know how tough things have been for you. No one should have to deal with the stuff you’ve had to deal with. Just be strong, this will all go away and you’ll never have to worry again.’

‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Simone said. ‘I really don’t know what Chelsea and I would do without you.’

Emma felt a little guilty not telling her sister the truth about how she was going about getting the money, but she reasoned that Simone had enough to worry about for the time being. If she were to tell Simone she was about to marry a man she had only met that morning, her sister would think she had gone mad.

But then maybe I have , Emma thought as Rafaele’s handsome features came to mind. She gave the pillow a thump and settled back down but it was ages before she could relax enough to sleep…

Emma’s eyes sprang open as the front door slammed. She heard Rafaele move about the villa with no attempt to keep the noise down, as if he couldn’t care less about disturbing her, no doubt because he considered her an interloper in his family home.

She heard the sound of a glass shattering in the lounge room downstairs and then a course expletive cut through the still night air. She waited a few minutes, listening as various cupboards and drawers were opened and slammed shut as he began hunting through the main bathroom.

‘Where the hell is the first-aid kit?’ Rafaele’s voice roared from the foot of the sweeping staircase.

Emma threw back the covers and, reaching for her bathrobe, tied it securely around her waist and came out on the third-floor landing. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, looking down at him. ‘Have you cut yourself?’

He swayed slightly on his feet as he held up his right hand wrapped in a hand towel. ‘Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. Want to kiss it better, pretty Emma?’

She frowned at him as she came down the stairs. ‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked in a reproachful tone.

He gave her a sinful smile. ‘So what if I have?’

She stood three steps above him to meet him eye to eye. ‘Did you drive home in this state?’

He swayed towards her, the strong fumes of brandy wafting over her face. ‘No, I caught a cab,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t that sensible of me?’

‘It’s not sensible to drink to excess even if you’re not planning to be behind the wheel of a car,’ she said. ‘Let me look at your hand.’

He held it out to her and she gently peeled back the towel to find a gash near the base of his thumb that was still oozing blood.

‘Am I going to make it through the night?’ he asked with one of his mocking smiles.

Emma pursed her mouth and led him by his uninjured hand to the nearest bathroom. ‘Sit on the stool,’ she directed sternly as she washed her hands. ‘You’re very lucky, as it doesn’t need stitching. I’ll put a Steri-Strip on it to pull the edges together.’

She located the first-aid kit and set about cleaning the wound and dressing it. But she found it almost impossible to control the slight tremor of her hands as she touched him. His shirt sleeves were rolled back, revealing strong wrists with a generous sprinkling of dark hair, a potent reminder of his virility.

She was acutely aware of his closeness, his long legs trapping her between the basin and him at one point. He was such an intensely masculine man. She could smell the musk of his skin, this close to him she could see every pinprick of stubble on his jaw, making her fingers ache to touch him there, to see if her soft skin would snag on his rougher one.

She took an unsteady breath and tried to ignore the flutter of her pulse as his dark eyes locked on hers.

‘You have very soft hands,’ he said. ‘I wonder if that prim little mouth of yours is just as soft.’

‘I guess you’ll just have to keep on wondering,’ Emma said, trying to move to one side.

He stood up, his left arm blocking her exit. ‘How about I kiss you and find out, eh, Emma?’

Emma gave a nervous swallow, her belly doing a funny little somersault at the smouldering look in his darker-than-ink eyes. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea…’

He gave her a slow, sexy smile. ‘Why not?’

She unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips. ‘You know why not.’

‘Is there someone else?’

‘No…I mean, yes, there is,’ she lied, but she knew the colour storming into her cheeks was betraying her.

‘You are not a very convincing liar, Emma,’ he said. ‘If you were involved with someone else you would not be sending me those hungry little looks all the time, now, would you?’

‘I’m doing no such thing,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He released her hand and placed the heated warmth of his palm at the nape of her neck instead. Emma couldn’t stop the little shiver that coursed like a tickling feather all the way down her spine, loosening every vertebra along the way. Her heart began pick up its pace, the thud of her pulse so heavy she was surprised he couldn’t feel it leaping beneath her skin where his hand rested.

‘You want to know, don’t you?’ he went on in that same toe-curling, sensuous drawl. ‘You have done it with the father, now you want to know what it feels like to do it with the son.’