Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride. JACQUELINE BAIRD

the helicopter, and took the stairs two at a time to the lower deck. He was feeling great, fired up … His passion for motor racing had been fulfilled with a day in the pit watching the time trials for tomorrow’s big race. The team he supported had pole position. He flexed his shoulders … and soon his other passion would be fulfilled with Emily.

      She had appeared to accept his take on marriage without further argument, and yesterday she had proved to be a hit with their guests.

      Last night had been incredible; his body stirred thinking about it. He had climbed into bed, taken her in his arms and kissed her. At first she had tried to play it cool, but within minutes she had gone up in flames just as she had every time before.

      Yes, life was just about perfect … He needed a shower. Maybe Emily would be in the cabin. She wasn’t and, ten minutes later, dressed in shorts and shirt, he walked out on deck looking for her. Carlo was leaning over the guard rail with Tim Harding and Max beside him, but there was no sign of Emily.

      Anton strolled over. ‘Hi, guys.’ He leant against the railing next to him. ‘Have you seen Emily around?’

      Max pointed to a small yacht anchored about two hundred metres away. ‘She is over there with Gianni. Apparently the boat belongs to friends of his and the pair of them decided to race each other across and back. They arrived there twenty minutes ago.’

      The feel-good factor vanished. He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and realized it was gut-wrenching fear. His impulse was to dive off after them, but he realized it was pointless, and then blind rage engulfed him and he turned on Max.

      ‘You let my wife dive thirty feet off the bloody yacht,’ he swore. ‘Are you mad? You are supposed to be a bodyguard.’

      He stilled, his chest tightening as he recognized the source of his rage. He felt an overwhelming need to protect Emily, something he had never felt for any other woman except his mother and sister.

      ‘Sorry, boss, I couldn’t stop them. They were balancing on the rail when I came out on deck. But you have nothing to worry about. Emily swims like a fish. In fact the three of us still can’t decide which one won.’

      ‘That is why we are waiting here to see them come back,’ Carlo said. ‘We have a little bet on the result.’

      Anton could not believe his ears. ‘Forget your damn bet. Nobody is swimming back. I am getting the launch.’

      Carlo lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes. ‘Too late.’

      Anton looked across just in time to see two figures dive into the sea.

      He’d kill her; he’d shake her till her teeth rattled. He’d chain her to him … But first he needed her back safely. A boat could cut across her path, she might get cramp—the opportunity for disaster loomed huge in his mind and with bated breath he watched with Carlo and Max as the swimmers drew closer.

      Reluctantly he had to admit Emily was superb. She glided through the water with barely a ripple, her long pale arms rising and falling in a perfect crawl, keeping a punishing speed. He watched as they approached the stern and saw Emily grab the ladder first.

      ‘I won,’ Emily cried, hanging onto the ladder with one hand and brushing the hair from her eyes. Gianni’s arm came up and grasped her waist.

      ‘OK—so it is one all.’

      Breathless and grinning, they scrambled up onto the deck.

      Anton stood transfixed. Emily, wearing the briefest of bikinis, stood glowing with life and vitality laughing with Gianni. Jealousy ripped through him and he had to battle the urge to rush across and shove the younger man overboard.

      ‘Best of three. I’ll race you tomorrow,’ he heard Gianni say and his wife was totally oblivious of him as she responded.

      ‘Right, you’re on.’

      Anton moved to grab Emily, but Carlo’s hand on his arm stopped him. He looked up at him and said softly, ‘So, my friend, now you know how it feels?’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Anton demanded.

      ‘You know Emily and Gianni are just friends, as I know you and Eloise are just friends. But when you love a woman it doesn’t always follow that you can easily accept her male friendships. Take my advice—don’t make an issue out of their harmless fun.’

      Carlo’s words gave him pause for thought. Of course he did not love Emily. But he knew Carlo imagined he loved Eloise, and it had never occurred to him his friendship with Eloise might hurt Carlo.

      Then again he wasn’t Carlo, and Emily wasn’t having fun with anyone but him …

      ‘You will not be racing tomorrow, Emily.’ He strode across and took her arm. ‘And you, Gianni, will not encourage my wife to risk her life in such a damn-fool way.’

      ‘Oh, don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy,’ Emily said, lifting her eyes to his. ‘You have your motor racing. I prefer a more natural race.’

      He felt every one of his thirty-seven years and he did not appreciate the reminder. His dark eyes narrowed on her beautiful face. ‘Have you forgotten tomorrow we are all attending the Grand Prix? And Gianni is leaving on Monday so it is never going to happen,’ he said bluntly.

      ‘Oh, yes.’ She turned away from him. ‘Excuse me all, I need to shower and get ready for the party.’ And he had to let her go, as Tim Harding asked him a question about the time trials.

      Coloured lights strung from prow to stern lit up the great yacht. Dinner was a buffet as the original guests had been increased by about another thirty from shore. Apparently another tradition of her indomitable husband. She glanced across to where he stood surrounded by friends, mostly of the female variety. He was wearing a white shirt open at the neck and dark trousers, and looked devastatingly attractive. The dress code for the men appeared to be smart casual, actually designer casual, Emily amended, glancing around, but her eyes were helplessly drawn back to her husband.

      As she watched he laughed down at the woman hanging on his arm, and Emily looked away. Anton was always going to be the centre of attention, the outstanding Alpha male, in what she quietly conceded was quite a gathering of such men. But then why not? Monaco was the playground of the rich and famous and never more so than this weekend.

      ‘Hi, Emily.’ She glanced at Gianni as he stopped beside her. ‘May I say you look wicked,’ he said with undisguised appreciation in his golden eyes. ‘Mind you, I think you are wasted on this crowd. What say we do a bunk to my friend’s yacht?’

      But before she could respond Carlo appeared in front of them. ‘Damn Eloise. That woman could shop for Peru,’ he declared, exasperation in his tone. ‘You do know she only arrived back ten minutes ago—the helicopter had to go and pick her up, hopelessly late as usual.’ He snorted. ‘She said it wouldn’t take a minute to change.’ And grasping a glass of champagne as a waiter walked by, he added, ‘I will believe that when I see it.’

      Gianni responded with, ‘Here she comes now, Dad.’

      Emily’s mouth fell open in shock. The woman was wearing a white off-the-shoulder dress that revealed her breasts almost to the nipples—not that it mattered as the fabric was see-through, a silver belt was slung around her hips, and the rest of the garment barely covered her behind. Emily glanced up at Gianni and saw the slight tinge of embarrassment on his handsome young face and she felt for him.

      ‘New dress?’ Carlo demanded and Emily’s attention returned to him. His eyes were popping out on stalks. He had obviously not seen it before, she surmised, and her lips twitched in the briefest of smiles. Not that there was much to see other than the fact the woman was also wearing a thong. Outrageous didn’t even begin to describe it.

      ‘No, darling.’ Eloise pouted. ‘You told me to hurry so I just flung this old thing on.’ She preened, doing a twirl.

      ‘She obviously missed,’ Emily said under her breath to Gianni. His golden eyes widened and he cracked up