JACQUELINE BAIRD - Mediterranean Men Unleashed - The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride

Anton was a man with a very high sex-drive—even she in her innocence had gathered that in the last few days. She doubted he had even noticed the difference from their wedding night, when she had loved him freely and told him so frequently, to the silent lover she had forced herself to become. If it wasn’t her he was having sex with it would be some other woman.

The thought caused her pain, and with the pain came a hint of an idea, maybe a way out …

Anton was an incredibly wealthy man, and yet by some oversight he had never suggested she sign a pre-nup. Or, more likely in his conceit, his supreme confidence in his ability to keep her sexually satisfied, and with the lavish lifestyle he offered, he probably didn’t think he needed one.

But the likelihood of him staying faithful to her or any woman wasn’t very great. Suddenly it occurred to her all she had to do was wait. He had said she could carry on with her career, and his took him all over the world. Inevitably they would spend a lot of time apart; she could make sure of it. Once, only once, would she need to discover he had been with another woman, and she could divorce him. Then take rather a lot of his money, at least enough to make sure he could never threaten her family ever again.

It was a horrible cynical idea and not like her at all, but then living with a cynic like Anton it was hardly surprising she was learning to think like him.

In fact she could take a leaf out of his book, and spend the time on his island indulging the sexual side of her nature, a side she had never known she had before. He had said it was just lust that brought a couple together, and eventually it burnt out. Well, by the end of the week, her body sated, she might finally be rid of her helpless longing for him, or at least better able to control herself.

Yes, she decided. She would do it—make the rest of her honeymoon a sensual feast even though the marriage was a fiasco.

Washed and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, Emily walked downstairs and out onto the veranda where breakfast was laid out. Anton had already eaten, by the look of it. He had left their bed to take an urgent call an hour or so ago. Where he was now, she didn’t know.

She crossed to the balustrade and stood admiring the view. The villa was set on the top of a hill that overlooked a beautiful bay; the gardens ran down in a riot of colour almost to the beach, the white sand reaching out to the deep green sea. Around the headland she knew was a small harbour and fishing village, because that was where they had docked yesterday afternoon. But here it felt as if she were the only person in the world.

A hand wrapped around her waist and settled on her stomach, urging her back into the warmth of a large male body.

‘So do you like my home?’ Anton’s deep voice rumbled against her ear.

‘Like is too tame a word—this place is like paradise.’ Or it could be under different circumstances, she silently amended.

The villa was beautiful with five bedrooms, three reception rooms, a study and a circular, elegant hall with a marble staircase. Not excessively large, but with a basement gym and games room, and fabulous terraced gardens including an infinity swimming pool. A staff of four ensured the house ran like clockwork, and a team of gardeners kept the grounds in perfect condition. The place had everything; much like the man who owned it, she thought, and inwardly sighed.

‘Good. So what do you want to do today?’

‘Explore, swim in the sea,’ she said, wriggling around in his arms, and placing her hands firmly on his chest. ‘So far I have only seen the harbour when we arrived, the house and the bedroom suite.’

‘Your wish is my command.’ He grinned, and half an hour later they were driving along a narrow road in an open-topped Jeep, Anton wearing the most disreputable pair of cut-off jeans that bordered on the indecent and nothing else, Emily with a baseball cap on her head at Anton’s insistence, her arms and legs liberally covered in sunblock.

The Jeep screeched to an abrupt halt at the harbour, Anton leapt out and before Emily could move he had reached over and lifted her to the ground.

‘First I’ll take you for the best cup of coffee in the world, but don’t tell my housekeeper I said that.’ He chuckled, and pulled out a chair for her by a rickety table outside a small café.

Immediately the owner came out, and Emily’s eyes widened in surprise as the man greeted Anton with a bear hug, and hearing Anton speaking in Greek, so obviously at home, she felt her heart squeeze a little. She was introduced to the owner, coffee was served, with small sweet-tasting cakes, and as they sat there the entire population of the village must have walked by and she was introduced to them all, old and young alike.

This was an Anton she had never seen before, laughing, chatting and totally relaxed.

‘Come.’ He reached down a hand to her. ‘Time to explore.’

They spent the day driving around the island, which actually did not take long. They lunched on bread and cheese, high up in the centre of the island as guests of a goat-herder that Anton knew, and then spent the afternoon down on a secluded beach.

Anton stepped out of his disreputable shorts, and, totally naked, persuaded her to do the same. They swam and laughed and Emily discovered it was possible to have sex in the sea. Finally they returned to the villa as the sun was setting, Emily slightly sunburnt and covered in sand, Anton looking more bronzed and fit than ever. They shared a shower, dined on the veranda and had an early night.

It was the honeymoon she had hoped for, and, even though she knew it was a sham, Emily shed all her inhibitions and enjoyed every second. She knew she would never love another man the way she had loved Anton, and with that in mind she blocked every negative thought from her brain. One week of sensual bliss was what she had promised herself, and amazingly it was.

‘SO WHAT would you like to do for your last day?’ Anton asked, letting his eyes rest on Emily. She had pushed her chair back from the table, and was sitting with her long legs stretched out before her, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands, her gaze fixed on the garden and sea below.

She turned her head slightly. ‘I thought I might have a swim in the pool, and then pack.’

God! But she was stunning. She positively glowed, a golden girl in every respect. The whole population of the island adored her; she was fun and friendly to everyone. She had obviously got over their argument about her father and that stupid Harding woman. But then he had always known she would after a week in his bed, he thought complacently.

Actually, he had never spent a better week in his life. She was his perfect match, in bed and out, and more than he could ever have wished for. She was wearing a flesh-coloured bikini with a fine sarong loosely draped around her and fastened with a knot between her breasts, and he felt his body stirring even though it wasn’t long since they had indulged in the shower. Actually, for an innocent she had surprisingly seductive taste in lingerie, he realized, but then she was naturally sensuous, and so long as it was for his eyes only not a problem.

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