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      ‘I am prepared to compromise quite a few of my standards in order to secure what is rightly mine, including sleeping with the enemy if she so desires.’

      Her eyes flashed at him again. ‘This particular enemy has no such desire.’

      He smiled and stepped closer, close enough to take her chin between his index finger and thumb. ‘Are you prepared to lay some money down on that, Emma?’ he asked in a silky tone.

      He felt her tremble under his touch and his groin leapt in response. Her mouth was like a soft, plump cushion of pink flesh just begging to be kissed. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do it. He lowered his head, slowly, watching as her eyes widened before her lashes began to come down, her lips parting slightly, her sweet breath mingling with his, giving him all the invitation he needed.

      Emma came to her senses just in time. She slipped out of his light hold, her heart hammering, her breath catching and her senses on fire. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she said, rubbing at her chin as if he had burnt her.

      ‘I was doing what you were all but begging me to do,’ he answered smoothly.

      She glared at him. ‘I was doing nothing of the sort. You touched me. I didn’t touch you.’

      ‘You will have to touch me tomorrow. In fact you will have to kiss me in front of the congregation, so perhaps we should rehearse it a couple of times now.’

      Emma couldn’t quite control the flutter of nerves in her belly. ‘I-I don’t think that will be necessary,’ she faltered. ‘Surely we can just…you know…wing it at the time…’

      He gave a wry smile. ‘Wing it?’

      ‘Ad lib,’ she said. ‘You know…go on instinct…’

      His eyes darkened to black pools of ink. ‘I thought that was exactly what I was just doing,’ he said, ‘and so were you if you were honest with yourself.’

      ‘Maybe I was thinking of your father,’ she said, even though she knew it would infuriate him. Better that than admit to him how much she had wanted him to kiss her. That was just asking too much of her pride, battered as it was.

      His features went tight with anger. ‘You gold-digging little whore,’ he bit out savagely. ‘I swear to God you will not be thinking of my father when I finally take you to my bed.’

      His confidence fuelled Emma’s defiance. She gave her head a little toss and gave him a taunting look. ‘That is not part of the deal, Rafaele, remember? If you want the goods on display, then you will have to pay extra for them.’

      A nerve pulsed like a jackhammer at the side of his mouth. ‘Goddamn you,’ he ground out. ‘I am not paying another penny for a cheap little tramp like you. When you come to me you will do so because you want it so badly you cannot help yourself.’

      Emma stood her ground as he brushed past her in a swish of anger-filled air that lifted the strands of hair about her face. She closed her eyes once the door clicked shut behind him, her chest deflating on an expelled breath, her throat tight with the effort of holding back a stray and totally unexpected sob.

      * * *

      Emma heard the lawyer arrive just on three in the afternoon and made her way downstairs to the library. She wished she had thought to ask Rafaele what he intended to tell his legal advisor about their relationship. As she came into the room she looked at him for guidance but his expression was impenetrable.

      Brief introductions were made and she sat down and began reading through the wordy documents, deliberately taking her time before she signed the places marked with a sign-here sticker. Emma had no problem with signing a pre-nuptial agreement—several of her friends back home in Australia had done so when they had begun living with their partners or got married. She totally understood Rafaele’s position, he couldn’t risk a division of his assets upon their inevitable divorce, but somehow she wished things were different between them. She wasn’t used to people taking an instant dislike to her. Even her parents, for all their faults, had not really hated her; they had just loved their drugs more.

      She signed the last place and gave the lawyer a smile. ‘Thank you for going to the trouble of printing a copy for me in English.’

      ‘Prego.’

      Once the lawyer had left Rafaele turned to Emma. ‘I have left my mother’s dress and veil in the dressing room upstairs. If it is not suitable will you let me know immediately so I can come up with an alternative?’

      Emma arched her brows at him. ‘You must have some very fancy connections in that little black book of yours if you can come up with wedding finery at short notice.’

      ‘There are certain advantages in being extremely wealthy,’ he returned with a stretch of his lips that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

      ‘Yes, well, you’re lucky, I suppose, that you’ve got that going for you in compensation for your other numerous shortcomings,’ she said with a pert tilt of her chin.

      ‘If you are looking for an apology for this afternoon’s discussion I am not going to give it to you,’ he said.

      ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be civil,’ she threw back. ‘I know that about you at the very least.’

      His black-brown gaze clashed with hers. ‘You will know a whole lot more about me before this marriage is over, let me assure you.’

      She gave a bored sigh and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I can hardly wait.’

      Rafaele felt his control slipping. She was goading him deliberately, making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. He had never met a more infuriating woman, or a more desirable one. He wanted her so badly his body burned with it. The blood was already thick and heavy in his groin, the pulse of lust so strong he could feel it pounding in his ears. But acting on it was out of the question, or at least until they were officially married. She stood between him and his last link with his father. If he made a wrong move now she might pull the plug just to spite him. How could he trust her? For all he knew she might have cooked this scheme up with that cold-hearted bitch Sondra Henning. They could share the spoils of their victory, leaving him with nothing.

      He was not going to let that happen.

      He rearranged his features and forced his tense shoulders to relax. ‘This is not getting us anywhere,’ he said. ‘We are arguing like children in a playground. Tomorrow is going to be difficult enough for both of us.’

      ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she said. ‘That is why I am going to have an early night. If you want dinner you will have to make it yourself.’

      Rafaele frowned at her churlish expression. ‘I do not expect you to prepare my meals, Emma. That is what I have a housekeeper for. I have employed a temporary one to fill in until my father’s lady returns from leave. She will start next week. I could not get anyone any sooner.’

      ‘Have you told her our marriage is not a real one?’

      ‘I did not see the necessity to do so,’ he said.

      ‘Isn’t she going to think it rather unusual we will not be sharing a bedroom?’

      ‘Many couples do not share a bedroom for a variety of reasons,’ he said. ‘I will tell her I am a very light sleeper if you like.’

      ‘Fine,’ she said and turned to leave.

      ‘Emma?’

      He heard her draw in a breath of petulance as she turned back to face him. ‘Yes?’

      He searched her features for a beat or two. ‘I hope I do not need to remind you that I expect you to refrain from bringing any of your lovers back here to the villa.’

      She arched her brows at him. ‘Do I get the same guarantee from you?’

      ‘Any affairs I conduct will be discreet.’

      Her

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