A Reputation to Uphold (10 page)

Dante surged from his leather chair and, palm flat to the chilled glass, braced his weight against the vast window of his UK headquarters. The unrivalled views of a festive Mayfair were doing an abysmal job of assuaging the tension snaking through his ribcage.

Where the hell was the Princess of the Press? Why wasn’t she revelling in the attention? It was almost as if she hated it.

‘What is the problem, Eva? It worked, didn’t it? Are the reporters free from your doorstep?
Sì
. Have they soaked up every drop of exaggerated mulch?
Sì
. And let us not forget how you appeared to get into the spirit of the thing.’

Cristo
, that was an understatement. The woman was a siren, hell-bent on his destruction!

‘Yes, well, anyone would’ve got into the spirit of the thing when dealing with an expert in the field. Just
look
at me.’ He was looking at her. Filling the front page. All long black sculpted legs and thick caramel hair cascading down her spine, five seconds away from having sex on the pavement. ‘I’m all over you like a sticking plaster. Finn is going to get the shock of his life. Please tell me you’ve spoken to him, explained that it’s all a...a lie.’ What was it with the woman and lying?

‘There are no lies between us on that page, Eva.’

‘I’m not talking about the lust and you know it. I’m talking about the engagement.’

Dante paced the fifty-foot length of his office. ‘No, I haven’t spoken to Finn. His line is still down.’ And, knowing his best friend, he’d be taking advantage of being snowed-in with the latest starlet to fall for his charms. At least one of them was getting some kind of satisfaction, he supposed.

‘Oh, God, I hope he’s okay.’ The concern in her voice snagged at something deep inside him.

If there was one thing he could say about Eva, she adored Finn with all her heart. At one time that sibling loyalty had made his chest clench with envy. For, after being wrenched from his mother’s pitiful grave and dropped into the opulent world of Primo Vitale, his father’s legitimate heirs had been consumed with hatred.

Not that Dante had cared. After a childhood spent in a squalid, debauched hell, he’d been darker than sin himself and ready to take on the world. Little had they known it would be Dante who would save them all from financial ruin. It would be Dante who now held power in the palm of his hand, able to crush their world at will.

‘Dante, are you still there?’ Eva’s voice, rich and decadent, washed over his taut, hard body in soft lulling waves.

‘
Sì
,
cara
, I am here. We are talking about a man who drives at the speed of light
.
It will take more than snow to knock him off course.’

Her soft breath whistled across London as if she tried to be calm, to believe. ‘You’re sure?’

A small smile curved his lips. ‘I am convinced Finn is safe and well. But, if it makes you feel any better, I will contact one of my men in Zurich to search for word of his team.’

‘You will? Oh, well, I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.’

Dante stiffened his spine, smoothed his hand down the front of his tailored jacket and hauled his thoughts back to order.

‘Good. Now that is settled and you have calmed—’

‘I have not calmed. And I’m not finished with you yet either.’ Ah, there it was. The tongue of a vixen. That husky voice. Every sex-dripping syllable wrapping around his groin and pulling tight.

‘I see you have found your voice today.’

‘My brain is what I’ve found. First off...no more kissing,’ she said, more than a little breathless.

It was a good idea. Also impossible. For two reasons. One, this charade must go on. And two, it was becoming impossible to keep his hands off her. Luckily, this time next week, Hamptons would be his, her deal with Prudence West would be saved and he’d be jetting to the Far East. Out of sight, out of mind.

‘Are you listening?’

‘To every word,’ he replied, scrolling through his e-mails to see if there’d been any word from Yakatani.

‘I don’t believe you. Put your phone down. I do realise I’m a mere female but I want your undivided attention when I say this.’

‘Say what?’ he murmured, distracted by the incoming fist to his gut in the form of a text from his half-brother, Lazio—one he deleted without reading and moved on.

‘No more fake loved-up flower arrangements. No. More.’ Her voice cracked and his eyes sprang up from the screen. For a second he imagined she was struggling to breathe, to talk, but when she spoke again her sass was full throttle. ‘It’s one thirty and my boutique resembles the Chelsea Flower Show.’

‘You do not like flowers?’ he asked incredulously. Women adored flowers. Usually in every colour and variation. Maybe she was a lingerie girl... He stopped before crashing into another wall of lust. Never in his life had he bought a woman lingerie and he wasn’t about to consider the notion now. Especially with a woman he’d never get to see modelling it. Torturing himself with self-denial he was not.

‘Hate them,’ she said tightly. ‘Although I must admit it’s a recent development.’

‘How recent?’

‘This morning recent.’

Dante settled back in his chair, the leather cushioning the blast of affront. So she didn’t want his ring. She didn’t want his kisses. And now she hated flowers because he’d sent them. A unique state of play, to be sure. Still, he assured himself, if Eva was so opposed to romance that was her problem, not his.

‘Now that’s sorted,’ she said, ‘I have to work. So I’ll see you Wednesday for dinner with Yakatani?’

Leave her
alone
? For two days?

‘I think not,
tesoro
. Until my name is on Hamptons’ deeds, think...sticking plaster.’

* * *

Eva smoothed her satin sheath down her front, snagging on her oddly heavy left breast and winced.

Hormones. Nothing more. Nothing less.
What with the ring and the lust, and the flowers and the lust, and the kissing and the lust she was in a volatile state. Add in the fact the man couldn’t seem to leave her alone and she was a wreck!

Monday evening, Dante had demanded dinner at a fancy hotel, where he’d spent half the time on his phone with some Russian oligarch. Tuesday evening was the Scottish Ballet premiere, which in any other circumstances she would’ve adored. But she’d fallen headlong into the inferno on the red carpet beforehand and the flaming heat had burned bright for the entire performance. By this morning she’d learned her lesson in the art of submission and tied herself up in so many appointments he couldn’t demand lunch.

Now all that was left was dinner tonight. Yakatani, Dante and Eva. Easy. Private. No kissing. With a bit of luck he’d close his deal and leave her in peace.

Sucking in air, she pressed the flat of her hand to her stomach. Stomach ache. Every day. All day.
It’s hormonal. It’s the kissing. You know this.
But,
oh, boy
, the kissing. Made her want more. Of him. Of that sinful mouth. Not only humiliating, considering the man was made from the same cloth as her father, but it was all for show.

Oh, yes, the devil had the entire British press wrapped round his pitchfork. Every day there they were, front page headlines. It was awesome to behold and, though she was loath to admit, it was far nicer seeing captions professing devotion than detailing the latest ‘Diva Scandal’. Even Prudence West had agreed to meet her on Friday to discuss ‘everything’ and she was
not
blowing it.

Grabbing her long crushed-velvet coat from the back of the couch, she checked the clock before sinking her arms into the cool silk lining and buttoning from neck to knee. The long hand clicked to the hour and Eva heard the rumble of a machine so loud the building shook as if she lived beneath an airport.

Lights off, she walked to the living room window to see...
wow
, a blood-red Lamborghini Aventador parked outside the boutique. The coveted super-car, named after a famous bull, riding double yellows.

The air whooshed out of her lungs as the sexy-as-sin machine open its jaws and Dante unfolded his tall muscular frame from the low-slung seat.

Thump, thump
went her heart when, with a deft flick, he shut the car door and fingered his yummy hair. More with frustration than for appearance’s sake.

Then her knees turned to water as he ate the pavement like a black panther, all deadly, lithe masculine grace. Dynamic. Energised. And
outrageously
sexy.

Mouth dry as hessian, it took her a few seconds to realise what his intentions were.

‘Oh, no.’ The place was a tip!

Quickly, she grabbed her vintage ruby-red clutch, rushed to the front door, swung it wide, moving forward a pace, and slammed straight into his chest.

‘Miss me
that
much,
tesoro
?’ he said, voice dripping with sin as he curled his fingers around her upper arms to steady her.

‘Like a hole in the head.’

He pursed his lips as if containing a smile and before she remembered the sinful flavour of that mouth she backed up a pace, clutching her handbag to her chest. ‘Shall we leave? Don’t want to be late for the big event.’

His hot gaze trailed down her body, lingered on the flare of her hips...her bare calves until she felt positively giddy.

‘What have you got on under there?’ he drawled, for what felt like the hundredth time this week. ‘And...’ his eyes lit with fury ‘...
where
is your ring?’

Oh,
great
. ‘I forgot, I was in a rush—just give me a second.’

‘You
forgot
?’

Eva breathed deep, fighting off the need to punch him in the arm. Knowing her luck, she’d break her knuckles. ‘What are you getting into a tizz about?’ If she didn’t know any better she’d say he was offended. ‘It gets tangled up in my hair in bed and...’

Eva glanced at the crimson plaster wall of her hallway, seriously tempted to bang her head off it.

‘You—’ he croaked, before clearing his throat ‘—you wear it in bed?’

She couldn’t look at him—she just couldn’t. ‘I tend to play with—’
Oh, boy
, was it too much to hope the floor would crack open about now?

‘Play with...?’

Eva swallowed. ‘My hair. In my sleep.’ This was awful, awful, awful. ‘I’ll get it.’

About turn, she headed for her bedroom, his footsteps echoing on the oak behind her, the snickity-click of the front door closing. ‘Just stay there. I’ll be one minute.’

In she went, out she came. Took one look at his dark, thunderous face. ‘I’ll check the lounge.’

‘
Cristo
, I realise it means very little to you, but how can you lose a ring in a day?’ Was it her imagination or was there a thread of hurt in his voice? ‘When tonight is the night you need it most!’ No. Not hurt. He was angry as hell.

Light splashed over the room and she winced at the ivory threads worming across the carpet, the sewing paraphernalia littering every surface.

‘
Maledizione
! You expect to find it in
here
?’

‘Of course I will. Come on, don’t you ever put things in a place where you’ll never forget? Then forget?’

‘Oddly enough, no.’

After a few minutes, Dante joined in and from nowhere the memory came to her and she strode over to the black mantelpiece. Halfway there and she snagged on Dante digging his hands down the sofa cushions in case it had fallen from the arm. And her stomach plummeted to the floor. ‘Stop!’

Dante froze, slowly straightened to his dizzying full height.

‘There it is,’ she said, one unsteady finger pointing to the mantelpiece. ‘I remembered. Told you I would.’

Insides shaking, she prayed he’d walk away. He could
not
see those papers from the specialist. He’d want an explanation and she couldn’t lie and he’d tell Finn and Finn would worry and maybe tell Dad and
oh, God
, she had to get him out of here. Distract him somehow.

‘Come on, I’m starving,’ she said, practically shoving him out of the door. ‘Where are we going, by the way?’

‘Takumi,’ he murmured, distant, suspicious.

‘I think I read about that in the papers.’
Keep talking, just keep talking
. ‘Some spectacular star-studded opening.’

‘It’s Yakatani’s new venture. Or should I say his son’s. Takumi is the Michelin chef taking the country by storm. Tonight is the opening.’

Eva stalled halfway down the hall. ‘I thought this was dinner. Me. You. Him. Private.’

‘It is dinner,’ he said, now exasperated. Which was fine. It was better than being suspicious. ‘And getting to private is the goal here. It is an honour to be invited. Meeting informally is the perfect launching pad.’

Yeah, to fire her off to the moon.

‘Think you could refrain from kissing me on the carpet tonight?’ It was a stupid request. Because, from the look on his face, she’d just waved a red rag to a bull.

CHAPTER SIX

A
LINE OF
super-cars and limousines snaked a path to Drathon Tower, sitting on the bank of the River Thames, soaring into the sky, all black tinted glass and subtle curves.

Dante watched Eva lean forward, head tilting to peer up through the windscreen as the parking attendant waited for his signal.

‘What were you saying about this meeting being the perfect launch pad? It looks like a rocket, don’t you think?’

It looked phallic to Dante but he was beginning to think his mind was continually in the gutter these days. Or at least since Saturday when this little missile had projected into his life.

Cristo
, never had he spent so much time with one woman—
hell
, with one person. And the sight of his ring on her finger, stamping his possession all over her slender hand, only made him even more aroused. Knowing she wore it to bed, that she touched herself, caressed all that beautiful almond skin with
his
ring on her finger only turned up his internal temperature gauge.