A Reputation to Uphold (24 page)

‘Hearts longing for my money, Eva. You ask my ex-wife why she agreed to my father’s lucrative proposal. Only to sleep with my half-brother Lazio weeks later. I found them together.’

Eva slumped back down onto the sofa opposite. ‘No wonder you were so cynical about women. I wish you’d told me.’

‘In the seven weeks we were married I think I saw her two, three times. I sabotaged her every effort, Eva. Without really understanding why. When I found them entwined I felt nothing but anger at myself and sheer relief. Natalia said she couldn’t compete with Vitale but it isn’t until now I realise she was competing with you.’

‘Oh, Dante.’

‘I do not blame her any more. If she feels for Lazio one hundredth of what I feel for you, I understand perfectly.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me how you felt all those years ago?’

Raking his hand around the back of his neck, he exhaled a long ragged breath. ‘My mother used to tell me I was like my father. Cold. Dark. Unlovable. But since you and I talked I was beginning to think she was beyond sad. Demoralised. I think he did that to her. And I reminded her of him every single day.’

Eva stroked down the side of his face with the back of her fingers. ‘You’re not cold, Dante. You’re white-hot heat. And yes, you’re dark, but I love you for it. It draws me in and it turns me on.’ Just talking about his dark male dominance sent ribbons of heat through her veins.

Licking her suddenly dry lips, she told him, ‘I crave you. All that dark smouldering passion makes me feel alive. But you have this other side too. It’s always been there. Like when you held my hand the day of my mother’s funeral. It’s your secret side. It’s Dream Falls. It’s the man who showed me not to be afraid of my body. It’s the man who came in here and opened his heart, expecting nothing in return. Only wishing to be there for me. It’s the man I’m proud of, the man who is more worthy than any other I know. The most lovable man in the world.’

‘Eva?’ he said, as if doubting, trying to believe, as he swooped down for another kiss, this one no less desperate than the last.

Down, down they went, tumbling onto the sofa, his hard weight pressing her into the plush cushions. And Eva thrust her fingers in his thick hair and held on tight as he spent all his doubt, all his fears, all his anguish by making love with sliding lips, his tongue slow and easy, stirring her insides with seductive persuasion.

‘Eva...Eva...tell me again,
cara
.’

‘I love you,’ she said on a panting breath. ‘Always.’

Closing his eyes for a beat, he delved into the inside pocket of his dark suit. Pulled out his fist. Unfurled his fingers.

‘Oh, Dante,’ she cried, her eyes filling, spilling over, tears trickling down her face.

‘
Cristo
, Eva, these are good tears,
Sì
?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes,’ dashing them away. ‘But how
could
you toss it into the lake? I was furious with you.’

Contrition slashed across his high cheekbones. ‘Not my finest moment,
cara.
I thought I’d lost you for ever. I went back the moment you left the island. I swear it.’ He slipped her beautiful yellow diamond down her ring finger, embedding the heavy weight, and everything fell right in the world.

‘So many people have let you down in your life and then I did the same. But I was so scared that day. I didn’t want to need your love. The only control I had was to be the one who left. Before I sank even deeper.’

Dante caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart, the accelerating beat echoing her own. ‘Marry me, Eva. Let me make you mine. No contracts. No baby if you wish. Just you and me.’

Fresh tears stung the backs of her eyes. How many times had she dreamed of this moment? Just like this. With pure, unadulterated love in his eyes.

Then it struck her. What he’d said.

‘Hold on. No baby if I wish? But I might be already.’

‘What?’ He reared back a touch. ‘You said you were not.’

‘No, I said I didn’t know yet. I’ve been working up the courage to do the test. Praying I was because I wanted your baby so much and I’ve been so miserable without you. I was half-tempted to sign your stupid contract. The pain when you’re not close...’

‘Ah, Eva,’ he said, nuzzling deliciously down her jaw, pressing his lips to her neck. ‘I feel it too,
cara.
’

‘Then I felt selfish for wanting your love when it may only bring you pain. Except...’

He sucked gently on the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. ‘It is worse without one another.’

‘Yes,’ she said, curling her face into him, breathing in his dark, rich scent, heat spiralling down her midriff. ‘Now we can do the test together, right?’

‘Later.’ Lips curving in that devilish half smile that made her tummy flip, he launched to his feet and
whoosh
she was in his arms and his lips were crashing over hers once more, his tongue a velvet lash of tormenting pleasure.

Body coiling with sweet anticipation, she wrapped her legs tight around his waist, gyrating against the thick length of his ardour, revelling in the growl rumbling up his chest as he made his way through to her bedroom.

‘I have work to do.’ He tossed her atop the bed and tore his jacket from his shoulders.

Writhing against the pearly-pink coverlet, she watched him tear off his shirt, gingerly snap his trousers open over what she guessed was a whole load of hard, pained want. Only for her. ‘You still haven’t given me your answer.’

Eva smiled. Rose to her knees and inched the hem of her dress up and over her head. ‘Oh, so we’re talking proposals here?’

Dante kicked his trousers to the floor, his gaze enraptured, burning through her white lacy knickers, his words tight. ‘We certainly are. I have developed a penchant for persuading you. Teasing, tempting.’

Eva flipped the front catch of her bra and sank back against the cushions, her legs scissoring with impatience. ‘Go ahead, do your worst, Vitale.’

‘Fear not,
cara
,’ he growled, crawling over her, all raw predator grace. ‘I intend to...’

A long while later...

Sprawled on crumpled sheets, facing one another, Dante entwined his legs with hers and corkscrewed a lock of her hair around his finger, languishing in contentment, a happiness he’d never known before. ‘So which of the screaming yeses was agreeing to marry me,
cara mia
?’

‘All fifty of them. Your technique is astoundingly good.’

No. It was all her. Only Eva could make him feel this insatiable. Invincible. Worthy. And watching her glorious body tense in exquisite violence when she came in the throes of ecstasy was downright addictive.

‘I aim to please,’ he murmured, cupping her breast in his palm, luxuriating in the way she pushed into his hand. ‘Although I would like to hear it one last time before that little stick turns blue.’

‘Even you can’t make me come in ninety seconds, Dante.’

‘Wanna bet?’ he growled, cinching her waist and rolling onto his back, taking Eva with him.

A purely feminine laugh stretched her lips wide as she straddled him and tugged the covers over their heads. ‘I love you,’ she breathed, undulating to take him inside her.

White heat unfurled high on each of his thighs and while he could still speak he said huskily, ‘I love you too
, cuore mio.
Always.’

Dante gripped the delicious curves of her behind, groaning when she wrenched her lips free and leaned towards the night stand. Still he kept hold, so she never left the tight lock of his body.

‘It’s midnight.’ White stick in hand, she came back and whispered against his lips. ‘Merry Christmas, my darling.’

Heart hammering against his ribcage, he could scarcely breathe. What he’d done to deserve such a gift as Eva, he’d never know. But as he snaked his hands up her waist to wrap his arms around her, he knew he was never letting her go.

‘After three we both look,’ she said. ‘One, two, three...’

Dante didn’t look at the stick. He didn’t need to. The answer was written all over her beautiful face. And right then he swore to do everything in his power to preserve that look of unadulterated joy, nourish it for the rest of their lives. Making every precious moment count.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Challenging Dante
by Lynne Graham

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CHAPTER ONE

D
ANTE
L
EONETTI
,
INTERNATIONAL
BANKER
, renowned philanthropist and the Conte di Martino to those whom such archaic titles mattered, frowned at the news that his childhood friend, Marco Savonelli, was outside his office waiting to see him. Something
had
to be seriously wrong to drag Marco from his village doctor’s surgery all the way to the fast-moving financial centre of Milan.

Lean, darkly handsome features composed in a frown, Dante pushed long brown fingers through his luxuriant black hair in a gesture of concern rare for a man with his tough, self-disciplined temperament. Surely Marco’s visit could only be related to the fund? Between them the two men were engaged in raising money by a variety of means to finance pioneering medical treatment in the USA for a village child stricken with leukaemia. From the outset, Dante had offered to cover the entire cost of the venture but Marco had persuaded him that it would be much more diplomatic to allow the village community as a whole to assume responsibility and volunteer their services to raise the thousands of euros required. Various public events had accordingly been organised and a fancy-dress ball at Dante’s family home, the Castello Leonetti in Tuscany, was the next big date and indeed the grand finale on the calendar, Dante recalled grimly, for he would have preferred to make a huge donation rather than be forced to dress up in comical clothes like a child at play. He had no patience for such nonsense.

His phone pinged and although he sighed he was conditioned by years as a banker to always be on the alert. But the message was not from one of his aides warning him of some potential crisis. It was from his mistress, the beautiful Della, and he frowned down at the picture of her superb breasts, his handsome mouth curling with irritation as he deleted the shot with an impatient stab. He didn’t want dirty pictures on his mobile; he was
not
a teenage boy, he reflected grimly. Clearly it was time to give Della the proverbial golden handshake and make a smooth exit. Unhappily the prospect of pastures new to explore held no attraction for him yet he knew he was bored with Della and even more bored with her colossal vanity and her avarice.

Yet, genuine warmth filled Dante’s uncommon green eyes when he crossed his big office to greet Marco Savonelli, a stockily built male in his early thirties, and the exact opposite of Dante in temperament for cheerful Marco was rarely seen without a smile on his face. Well, just this once his friend wasn’t smiling, Dante noted. Indeed Marco’s expressive face was unusually tense and troubled.

‘I’m really sorry to disturb you like this,’ Marco began awkwardly, very much a fish out of water as he took in the opulence of his surroundings. ‘I didn’t want to bother you—’

‘Relax, Marco. Take a seat and we’ll have coffee,’ Dante advised, urging his old friend in the direction of the luxurious seating area.

‘I had no idea how fancy your place of work would be,’ the other man confided ruefully. ‘To think that I thought I’d reached the height of sophistication when the practice manager installed my computer...’

The coffee arrived at lightning speed. ‘It’s not like you to take time out from your patients,’ Dante remarked, eager for Marco to tell him exactly what was wrong. ‘Has someone embezzled money from the fund, something of that nature?’

Marco, evidently very much more innocent than Dante had ever been, shot him a look of horror. ‘Of course not! It’s nothing to do with the fund and...er...actually, I was coming to Milan anyway to visit my aunt Serafina on my mother’s behalf, so I thought I would just drop in and see how you were while I was in the neighbourhood.’

Dante, sharp as a tack when it came to reading people, recognised a cover story coming his way and marvelled that Marco believed that he could fool someone as astute as he was. ‘Is that so?’