“A kiss for luck, baby?” the blonde behind me whispers into my ear. She’s running her hands down my chest, and I don’t resist when her lips fasten over mine. I don’t make eye contact with her, though.
I’m too busy locking stares with the glaring little pickpocket who's shooting fire at me across the table.
Chapter 5
Emma McErlane
I hate him. I fucking hate him!
It’s bad enough he’s married, but now he’s sitting here with a pair of bimbos and eye-fucking me into the bargain. This man has got to be the most arrogant bastard on the planet.
“Skanky fucking knobhead wanker,” I say under my breath.
“What was that?” Roy says, glancing up at me.
“Oh…uh…just wondering where the guy with the canapes went to,” I answer quickly.
Keep it together, Em. He’ll think you have Tourette’s.
“Canapes, eh?” Robbins has a handful of the flesh of my thigh. “I’m guessing you got your appetite back. That’s good news.” He pats my rump. “But you’ll need to keep a handle on that. Can’t have you running to seed…”
Running to seed? Is he for real? The bastard’s more than twenty years older than me. As I stand behind him, I can get a clear view of where he’s carefully combed his hair to hide a bare patch on his crown.
Oh, God help me. He’ll be bald and paunchy before I hit thirty. My life is officially over.
You could take a lover, Em. Isn’t that what society wives do?
I realize I’m staring at Raoul Caraldi again…who has the absolute nerve to be looking at me while locking lips with that curvy blonde.
Wanker!
I’m surprised he doesn’t need a snorkel – I don’t think he’s planning on coming up for air anytime soon. But still, I’m lost in the liquid mercury of that stare.
“Take a seat and stop babbling, girl,” my father snaps irritably, making me realize I’m still speaking my thoughts out loud. He’s in a vile mood – probably thanks to the dwindling pile of chips in front of him. Raoul isn’t faring much better, but he doesn’t seem remotely upset. It’s like he’s enjoying letting these sharks take his money or something.
Probably showing off for the skanks.
“Emma, goddammit!” My father is about to tear a strip off me. I can sense it.
“Nah, I know what this is about, McErlane,” Roy says to my dad. “The ladies can’t help but get huffy when they’re around beautiful women.” He’s still leering at Raoul’s fucking bimbos. “Say, that’s a mighty fine pair of titties you got there, princess,” he says to one of them. He turns his attention to Raoul. “What did those set you back, Caraldi?”
“What?” Raoul drags himself free of the clinging woman and stares for a second. Roy seems undeterred.
“Don’t you worry, Sugarplum,” the senator pats my arm. “After the wedding, I’ll be sure to get you a decent pair of tits. God knows I wouldn’t want you building those puppies by getting too fat.” He swats my rump. “This is a pretty dress, but a couple of pounds more, and it’ll be bursting at the seams, huh?”
I grit my teeth and drop a hand onto my father’s shoulder, squeezing firmly. He shoots a brief look up at me, and I plead with him with my eyes.
Daddy, please…please…
If I could just say the words.‘Don’t make me do this!’I silently beg him.
A slight flicker in his jaw tells me he knows exactly what I’m trying to say. He looks away. I feel myself slump. I’m not the kind of person who accepts defeat readily, but suddenly, it feels like I’m carrying the entire world on my shoulders.
“I love that dress on you.”
There’s a sudden hush around the table as everyone turns to stare at Raoul, who just said the words, looking straight at me.
“Versace?” he asks, quicksilver eyes pinning me in place.
