A Reputation to Uphold (6 page)

So this morning he’d ignored every flammable headline and had his investigators expose her business interests. She’d built her small bridal couture company from nothing.
Nothing.
Laser gun time. Stunned would be an understatement. Where was her inheritance—her mother’s legacy? Blowing millions of pounds within a few years on the party scene must’ve been one hell of a joyride. He assumed that when the money had run out she’d had to make a trade of some kind.

At first glance he’d thought Finn would have provided capital but no, she’d done it all herself, through banking loans and hard work. And he felt something he’d never thought he’d feel for her. A measure of respect.

‘Now you do,’ she said. ‘Except do me a favour and lay off the congratulations regarding Prudence. She’s already left one message and I shouldn’t think the next royal wants an engagement-wrecker to bless her gown.’

The anguish in her voice sliced at his throat. He knew what it is was like to work night and day with recognition continuing to be far from reach. At twenty-three he’d fought for the chance to save the ailing Vitale empire. The battle had been endless until desperation had forced his father to hand him the reins. It had taken Dante almost six months of working 24/7 to operate back into the black. So he knew the determination, the frustration, the rage.

‘Won’t stop me trying to change her mind, though,’ Eva said with a dose of grit that made his mouth tilt. Ah, there it was. The fight.

‘So why are the shutters locked downstairs?’ he asked.

‘Luckily, I only open the last Sunday of every month. I wanted to contact some of my clients before facing the hounds.’

‘It is best you do not speak with them until we get our story straight,’ he said, hearing his autocratic tone ricochet off the walls.

A small frown creased her brow. ‘Our story? There is no story, Dante, only the truth. If that doesn’t set me free I’ll just have to wait until the furore dies down. There’ll always be other jobs.’ But she wanted this. Desperately. Oh, she tried to hide it, but the stiff smile she tried on for size visibly cracked her composure.

She wanted it, just as much as he wanted Hamptons. Neither could afford tittle-tattle. Yakatani not only preferred committed family men but he was inordinately disturbed by tabloid fodder. With plenty of multi-billionaires in the running, he had his pick of the auspicious crop.

Dante considered the tartan wingback chair, decided not to take the risk and walked over to the windows to inspect the street below. Decent enough area for a boutique, he supposed. Mayfair or Bond Street would be better.

Rolling his neck, he breathed deeply. Truth time. Explanations he wasn’t very good at because as a rule he answered to no one. ‘I had an arrangement with Rebecca.’

He allowed her to soak up the admission, wrestle her thoughts into some kind of order. When her words came they were doused with intrigue. ‘What kind of arrangement?’

‘I needed a fiancée to close the Hamptons business deal.’ And with that one strategic purchase he would make Vitale the biggest retail phenomenon in the world. Then his father would have no choice but to acknowledge his first son—his bastard son—as the rightful heir. Finally he would prove to the old man that he was worthy of the Vitale name. That he was no longer a dirty stain on a virtuous thousand-year legacy. That he wasn’t tarnished by his mother’s bad blood. That he was strong enough to live only for Vitale and nothing,
nothing
would stand in the way of his success.

Fingers delving into his hair, he thrust the memories back into the dark depths. Locked down his emotions with ruthless efficiency.

‘I had no intention of marrying the woman,’ he said. One stab at the marital state had been enough to inoculate him against the institution for life. ‘I only bumped into her a couple of weeks ago in Singapore.’ Dante had known Rebecca from Cambridge days. A striking brunette who had a tendency to flirt with him outrageously. But she had chosen the wrong day and the wrong man to play with.

She’d cornered him and while he’d been sorely tempted to take what was on offer that night, to lose himself, drive out the anger, something had stopped him. Despite her overt sexuality, she’d turned him to stone.

While he’d never been the small-talk type, he had listened. To dampen his fury. To forget his father, his half-brother. It soon became apparent she was neck-deep in debt and needed funds—astronomical amounts. She was desperate. And, like a shark smelling bait, Dante’s killer instincts had kicked in and within seconds he’d pounced on that weakness and a business arrangement had been born.

‘Oh,’ Eva said, ‘you must want Hamptons very much.’ Warm, understanding, her husky voice wrapped around him, taking the edge off the chill that had been pervading his bones for so long.

And, before he knew it, need hit him with the force of a jet, tearing through his body. It took all of his restraint not to walk over there and slide his fingers across her deep silken cleavage, over her décolletage, up the sweet column of her throat. He wanted to sink into that gorgeous thick blonde hair, tilt her head for his kiss and drown in the sinfully erotic taste of her tongue.

Which was inconceivable for so many reasons; his brain refused to wrestle one to the fore. Putting her troublesome tempestuous nature and loose morals to one side, Finn would never forgive him for slaking his lust on his little sister. And this, whatever
this
was, had turned into business and never the twain shall meet.

So he narrowed his focus, his desire, on the only thing that mattered to him. ‘I need this deal, Eva. Except now my business relations with the owner are heading for the toilet. Rebecca claimed it is embarrassing enough for me to be seen embracing ‘
the likes of you
’ without her friends believing her a fool in unrequited love.’ She’d even hinted that she’d fallen for him and such lies inflamed his gut.

Dante turned from the view, leaned against the sill and caught Eva stuffing some letters under the plush cushion of the sofa before she sat down. The hunch she was hiding something expired as she curled her long legs under her bottom and writhed to find comfort.

How different she seemed in her own surroundings. She looked sumptuous and snuggly and... He shook his head. Appearances meant nothing.
Business, Dante—focus.

‘I assume all her friends thought it was a love-match?’ she asked.

‘Her words. Certainly not mine.’

‘So what do you plan to do now?’

Crossing his arms over his chest, he locked on his target. To eyes narrowing warily. He responded to that glimpse of suspicion by raising a dark eyebrow. ‘I’ve already done it.’

‘Of course you have, Action Man. Care to elaborate?’

He ignored the sarcasm; she’d thank him soon enough. Instead his mind drifted to earlier that morning. When he’d stood in his office listening to Rebecca’s histrionics, mouth shaping to quieten her with a lucrative financial bonus. And all the while his eyes kept drifting to the front page headlines. To Eva. And he knew. Even if Rebecca took another cool million and stood by him, Eva would suffer. A good business reputation was something money couldn’t buy and, regardless of fault, of the past, they were in this together. Finn had always stuck by him, whatever the storm, and Dante owed him. He could help Eva while ensuring Yakatani remained happy.

There had been moments;
Cristo
, there still were moments of doubt, of reason—telling him not to trust her. Putting her business acumen to one side, he wasn’t convinced she would come over as ‘wife’ material in front of Yakatani. His investigators might have failed to unearth any recent inflammatory stories but that meant nothing when her weekends could be made up of secluded private parties and dangerous liaisons.

Slowly, inexorably, his gaze roamed over her apartment, the blatant romanticism of her career choice. Something didn’t make sense.
She
did not make sense.

Dante scrubbed his jawline with the back of his hand. He’d just have to keep an extra-close eye on her. If only to ensure she played by the rules.
His
rules.

The tension in his midsection eased, just a touch. This plan could work. It
had
to work.

They could have it all.

‘I’ve given the press a story that will melt their cynical little hearts,’ he said, knowing his tone was sending the temperature in the room into a rapid decline. ‘The real thing.’

The frown in her brow deepened, even as she focused on the fireplace. As if she were somewhere else. In thought so deep her expression was almost dream-like in its intensity.

‘The real thing?’ she asked, her voice as softly decadent as whipped cream.

‘
Sì. Love.
’ The word was like poison on his tongue, making it swell, his next words sounding thick. ‘For surely there is only one reason I could be torn from the bonds of an engagement. The fact that I’ve fallen madly in love with someone else. I’ve provided them with a true romantic fairy tale.’

Without looking up, Eva gave a little huff of disbelief and began to scratch at the arm of the sofa, making patterns of what looked like love-hearts. ‘And who is the heroine in this fabricated tale?’

Dante smiled. The half smile that never failed to make women weak at the knees and tumble backward onto a satin drenched mattress.

‘You are,
tesoro.
’

CHAPTER THREE

E
VA’S HEAD SNAPPED
up so fast a spasm shot up the side of her neck and exploded in her ear.

‘
What
? Are you
crazy
?’

Fairy tales? Her and...
Dante
?

He hitched those broad muscular shoulders, all lazy insolence, and the dark silk lapels of his jacket rippled over the stark white shirt adorning his chest. ‘It’s perfect,’ he said.

Perfect. He was perfect. From his yummy, thick, overlong tousled hair all the way down to his high-sheen voguish shoes. Perfect to look at. Detestable inside. A bit like Christmas cake.

Her mouth worked around words, trying to free her stunned vocal cords. How dare he? How
dare
he!

He
, who just stood there. Wielding a half smile that was nothing short of a weapon of mass female destruction sending her body into nuclear meltdown. A smile that said
roll over and take it
.

Then there was that arch of one sleek dark brow. Expectant. As if waiting for her to thank him. For what, exactly? Digging her a bigger hole to bury herself in?

‘Let me get this straight. You’ve told the press that you’ve fallen in love with
me
,’ she said, jabbing her index finger into her chest before turning it back on him. ‘To save
your
business deal?’

‘
Sì.
And your deal with the next Duchess.’

His words tore at the tower of her indignation, making it wobble precariously. Would Prudence West be pacified by such a story? She supposed a woman in love, about to marry the man of her dreams, would understand such a predicament.

‘But we’d have to feign a relationship,’ she said, sounding horrified even to her own ears. ‘In public.’ She couldn’t do it. It would kill her. Bad enough he was in her apartment. Touching things. Sucking the pleasure she’d always gained from her soothing space and replacing it with wretched visual pictures sure to taunt her for days. But what was worse, far worse, was that while she’d been counting down the minutes until he would leave, he’d been planning on staying for the foreseeable future. With her. A woman he abhorred. So really, ‘Who would ever believe us?’

‘It is done, Eva. Everyone already believes,’ he said, his voice hardening to steel. The self-satisfied look of earlier being replaced by dark irascibility.

Understanding dawned. He actually expected her to jump aboard the Dante freight train to hell. Without so much as a quibble. In effect, she’d require an industrial-strength fire retardant suit!

‘You didn’t think to ask me first?’ she said, her indignation now fully stoked, voice high octane, ready to smash every glass object within a ten-foot radius. She was in control of her own life, dammit! ‘You’re so...so arrogant.’

He stood to his full six-foot-three, eclipsing the sun and sucking all the air from the room. And Eva held her breath until she nigh on asphyxiated.

‘I am taking control of the situation and fixing it. What have you been doing all morning? Lying in bed painting your pearly toes and rewriting your social calendar?’

‘Oooh. You just can’t resist, can you?’

The devil-may-care shrug he gave her made her angrier still.

Eva sighed, rubbing her temple. When was he going to start taking her seriously? ‘If you want me to admit to something then I’ll admit to fretting. Fretting my little heart out and thinking of what to do next. But do you blame me? There is nothing wrong with being concerned about my business. It may be small fry compared to your whale of enterprise but it’s mine and I’ve worked hard for it.’ Her business was her life. For however long she had. The only joy in a sea of uncertainty. She’d do anything to keep it afloat, but feigning a relationship with Dante was sailing into depths unknown and she wasn’t ready to drown just yet.

‘If it is so important to you, where is the problem?’ he said, now irritated to the point of explosion.

‘I don’t like the idea,’ she said, risking another glance at him, voicing the only argument she could think of without the need to purge her life story. ‘It’s lying.’

Frank bewilderment widened his beautiful deep umber eyes. ‘Funny how naive has never been a word I associate with you. You want to be successful, Eva? You have to play the game. You want to save your career? Get ruthless.’

The only thing ruthless about her was the way she haggled with her suppliers for a measly two per cent and dashed to the supermarket when her favourite ice cream was on special. She preferred to play fair. And she loathed lying. Blame it on the tales she’d heard spouting from her father’s tainted lips as her mother lay sick in bed. Blame it on the press for painting her as an alcoholic, drugged up, sexual assassin. Whatever. Lying to the world, to the soon-to-be Duchess, with Dante, made her feel...dirty, somehow.