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Avoiding his eyes, Emmie snorted, shaking her head. It was strange to see bitter cynicism on her young face, usually so earnest. “I’ve never seen you commit to anyone, Theo. Even before I started working for you, I knew you were a playboy. How could I possibly be the woman to tame you?” She looked down at her old sundress, her flip-flops, the chipped pink polish on her toes. “Look at me. And look,” she said as she lifted her chin, “atyou.”
Theo shifted his motorcycle boots against the terrace. His black clothes, which had seemed so reasonable on his private jet that morning, were now far too hot in the sun.
Or maybe it was having Emmie so close.
He exhaled. He knew there was some truth to what she said. He’d never been interested in settling down. No, more than that—he’d actively avoided it, at all costs. He knew he was attractive to women, in a thuggish sort of way, just as he knew that he was good at driving and ruthless in business. He used what he had as a tool to get what he wanted, nothing more and nothing less. His face had been given to him by his parents—by the father he’d never known, and the mother he didn’t want to remember. He couldn’t take credit for his face, apart from the fight that had broken his nose at fifteen.
He could take some credit for his body, due to frequent exercise at boxing gyms. But that was to alleviate stress. A therapist had once told him exercise could help relax him and calm his mind. He’d never gone back to the therapist—he didn’t like how she’d tried to pry into things best left buried—but he’d taken her suggestion about exercise. It often helped to pound a punching bag or willing opponent until he was exhausted and covered with sweat. Drinking could also work, if he didn’t mind the hangover. And sex, though that often had unfortunate consequence of dealing with a woman begging for his love or attention afterward.
Work was the best distraction of all. Until that night in Rio, it had been the only thing he could always rely on, better than any drug, to help smooth the rough edges of the day and the hollow emptiness in his soul.
Then the night with Emmie had changed everything. For the only time in his life, he’d truly been able to forget everything he wanted to forget in an ecstasy so deep it was almost holy.
And now she wanted to refuse him? She wanted to live as his wife, in his home, raising his child—but deny him her body, pushing him into the cold, unappealing arms of other women?
“You’re wrong, Emmie,” he said in a low voice. He lifted his eyes to hers. “I can be faithful. Ihave been.”
She swallowed. “What are you saying?”
Coming closer, Theo pulled her into his arms beside the railing with all of Central Park and New York City at their feet.
“Since our night together, there’s been no one else.No one.And I swear to you now—” he searched her gaze fiercely “—if you marry me, for the rest of my life you’ll be the only one.”
CHAPTER FIVE
CANDLESWEREGLOWINGacross the penthouse terrace as Emmie took a deep breath and stepped out into the warm summer night.
Another wedding, another day as a bride. But this time was so different. The lights of the city sparkled like diamonds, as above, the moon glowed like a pearl in black velvet.
Holding her arm, her father couldn’t speak for the tears in his eyes. Her proud, gruff father openly weeping wasn’t the only reason he was almost unrecognizable. His gray hair was sleekly trimmed, and he was dressed in a designer suit, with a new gold watch on his wrist, a gift from her bridegroom.
Emmie had received the upgrade treatment, too. She hardly recognized herself, either, in the short, deceptively simple shift dress that could best be described as quiet luxury: hemline at the knee, cowl neckline, long sleeves with a slight bell shape at the wrist. Her hair had been styled in a soft, elegant chignon, and rather than veiled was adorned with a large white rose. Her makeup was discreet, far more discreet than the enormous pearl studs in her ears—those, too, were a gift from the groom, and she was sure they’d cost a fortune. But not as much as the emerald-cut diamond engagement ring on her left hand, which was big enough to be seen from space.
Her cheeks burned as she and Karl walked past the fifty or so standing guests watching them with big eyes. Theo had hired the most expensive wedding planner in the city and demanded a small, elegant ceremony to be produced in four days. The woman had done as he’d asked, for an exorbitant amount that still made Emmie wince to think of it. It was unreasonable how much he’d spent, to achieve something they could have done quietly and easily by going to the courthouse downtown. But what Theo Katrakis wanted Theo Katrakis got.
She shivered.
Walking ahead of them was Honora Ferraro, her best friend who’d returned from the Caribbean especially to be her one and only bridesmaid. She held a single long-stemmed white rose, matching the seven of them in Emmie’s elegant bridal bouquet—exactly seven roses, to symbolize harmony and also the four elements and yin and yang and something else. Emmie had been too distracted to follow the planner’s explanation, but she figured she’d take all the luck she could get.
The last few days had been a whirlwind of wedding planning and dress fittings and cake tastings. Other than paying for everything, Theo had been absent, busy at the office, as he said, trying to finish up some loose ends so they could leave to honeymoon at some mysterious location. It had been strange to be sleeping in the guest room of this big penthouse, not quite a wife, not his employee, not even really his guest. But in a few minutes, after they spoke their vows, she would have a new place in the world. She’d be Mrs. Theo Katrakis.
Walking across the terrace to harp music, Emmie tottered on four-inch white strappy sandals. Her gaze rested on her four younger brothers, all looking unusually civilized in sleek designer suits that matched her father’s.
Her family was far more thrilled about this wedding than they’d been about her prospective alliance to Harold Eklund four days before. Emmie privately wondered if it was possible Theo had bought them all off.
But then, was she any better?
She was marrying him for their baby’s sake, she told herself firmly. Their marriage would be a practical one, a partnership to create a stable home for their child. Beyond that, she didn’t give two hoots about Theo’s wealth. As long as a family could pay their bills, she’d seen no evidence that a big fortune made anyone happier in life. It sure hadn’t given Theo much joy that she could see. And yet he kept chasing it.
No, Emmie didn’t care about Theo’s fortune. She was no gold digger.
But there would be other benefits she did care about...
She shivered as her eyes fell on her bridegroom, waiting in front of the pergola with the judge and Nico, his best man. Behind them, Manhattan sparkled beneath the sweep of the summer moonlight.
Theo’s black eyes met hers.
He was wearing a bespoke tuxedo that fit him to perfection, hand-tailored to the hard angles of his powerfully muscled body. She looked up, dazzled by his masculine beauty. Even the slight crookedness of his nose made him more exotic, so strong, so different.
