A Reputation to Uphold (8 page)

‘Yes. I’ll do it.’

‘Good,’ he said, pushing his weight off the sofa, the outrageously expensive silk of his suit rippling over his hard body, his face a picture of that-moment-didn’t-happen dispassion as he strode towards the door. ‘Get your coat—we’re leaving.’

Gripping the curved lip of the sofa back, she twisted at the waist, swivelling towards the door, brow furrowed deep with suspicion. She didn’t like the sound of that command. There was nothing businesslike about going out on a Sunday morning. ‘What do you mean,
we
are leaving? To go where?’

‘Shopping. I’m going to buy you the biggest diamond you have ever seen,
cara
. Let the fairy tale begin.’

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HUMB FLYING OVER
the screen with speed and dexterity, Dante tapped a reply to an e-mail on one phone and pressed his second phone to his ear. Fluid French streamed from his lips as he spoke to one of his directors in Paris, conscious to the point of aggravation of the woman sitting beside him.

Quiet, subdued, Eva had barely said two words since leaving her apartment. It unnerved him. Made him want to climb into her brain. Quite a change from thinking about climbing inside other parts of her.

His thumb paused as he ruthlessly tamped down the ferocious heat pumping through his blood.

Cristo
, he’d seriously miscalculated this side of his proposition. Attraction.

If he’d thought the skimpy top and gypsy skirt of earlier was synapse-scorching, it was nothing compared to what had greeted him when she’d finally deigned to exit her bedroom.

Skin-tight black jeans, knee-high boots with a kitten heel, a white polo neck clinging to her gorgeous breasts and the sexiest little brushed suede jacket he’d ever seen, the colour of peridot. Zesty and fresh, the lime-green was a distinctive signature found deep within the earth under tremendous heat and pressure. It suited her volatile temperament and his inner state to perfection.

Jacques, his Director of European Operations, fell silent as if waiting for Dante’s reply. To what he had no idea. And another flicker of annoyance sparked in his gut. With ruthless precision he ended the call and attempted to douse the flames of his ire. He didn’t need this kind of distraction. What was it about the woman that made him so hot? And why did his body insist on replaying that moment back in her flat when she’d reached up...touched his jaw and sent a bolt of lightning shooting through his body?

Glancing across, he found her biting her ring finger nail as she stared out of the limousine window, a deep frown pleating her brow.

Dante tucked one finger down the back of his tie knot and gave a good tug. ‘What is it, Eva?’

Hand falling from her lips, she began to stroke the leather door panel with the tips of her fingers. Without turning to face him, she said, ‘I don’t understand why you have to buy me an engagement ring when this isn’t real.’

Dante ground his back teeth. ‘To everyone else it is real. Let us not forget I was engaged to another. For this to work we are talking undying love here. The sweeping-off-your-feet variety. For this to work I cannot introduce you to Yakatani without one.’ Affecting a careless shrug, he forced his voice to become neutral. ‘When it is over, you may take the ring as a token of my appreciation.’

Shifting on her bottom, she turned sideways and her eyes speared darts of disgust. ‘Is that what you say to all your women?’

‘I’m a very generous man,
cara.
’ Often he sent jewellery as a gift. They were a fond
arrivederci
, not a love token.

Cristo
, he’d never given a love token in his life. Even Natalia, his father’s idea of the perfect bride, had chosen an engagement ring from the Vitale collection.

The memory brought his head up from the screen. Why was he escorting Eva himself—or frog-marching her if the displeasure on her face was anything to go by? And right there he had it. Even if he gave her an unlimited credit card she wouldn’t go. The woman wore sheer obstinacy for skin and she didn’t
do devotion
. But at least she was honest. If he could admire her for anything today, it was the truthful delivery of that statement. Any other woman would have lied or at least tried every trick in the book to play heart’s desire—such lies inflamed his gut.

While he was in no doubt that his dark, brooding looks drew them in, it was the drugging scent of bank notes—the aphrodisiac of power—that dropped them before his feet.

Eva’s eyes began to sparkle brighter than the winter sun slashing through the black leather interior. ‘Hold on... I have my mother’s ring at home—we can use that.’

‘No,’ he said in a firm tone, brooking no argument. Or at least it would have, if it wasn’t Eva he was speaking to.

‘Why not?’ she tossed back. ‘It’s a good idea. Why waste your money on me?’

With no intention of telling her his body simply rejected, rebelled and downright screamed
no way
, he kept the strength of his response leashed. ‘I am not wasting anything. It is insurance. Suppose someone recognises it? Your father. His latest viper wife.’

‘You’re right. Good point.’

Dante blinked wildly in mock horror and slapped his hand over his heart. ‘Say that again,
Tesoro.
I shall record it for future reference. May even convert it to a ringtone.’

‘Ha bloody ha.’ Turning to face front, she wriggled back into the plush padding and he noted the tiny smile she tried to stifle. One that vanished with her next thought. ‘I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.’

‘Ah, yes. Which number is this?’

‘Sixth.’

‘Has your father never heard of sex outside of marriage?’ For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why Nick St George kept returning to the snake pit time and time again.

‘Oh, I’m sure he has,’ she said, directing her gaze back to the sweeping view of Knightsbridge, the hurt in her voice unmistakable.

Dante had never given the man much thought. Only remembered the subtle weakness that hovered over him. But sitting here, now, hearing the anguish in Eva’s words, he began to question Nick St George’s untimely departure and how it had affected Eva, a girl so close to her mother.

Before he knew it, his voice softened, ‘I do not blame you for being hurt by the events of last night. It was beneath him to allow it.’

A new emotion burst through the sultry static crackling in the air. ‘You don’t know anything about my dad,’ Eva said, her temper bubbling to the surface. ‘So please keep your opinions to yourself. He has no control over the actions of his wife, therefore he can hardly be held accountable.’

It wasn’t so much the words as her tone that threw him. She was
defending
him!

‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘The woman certainly took great enjoyment in setting you up. No matter. The joke is now on her.’

Eva snorted. ‘Oh, yes, until we break up. Then I’ll be a laughing stock.’

‘A
laughing
stock?’

‘Oh, come off it, Dante. Everyone will think you’ve thrown me over for a new improved model. Who on earth would believe otherwise?’

For a moment his thoughts derailed with the nonsensical idea that she harboured a lack of self-confidence.
Improved
? How was that even possible? In the beauty stakes, she was untouchable. And hold on...

‘
New
? I very rarely date women under—’ He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a date, never mind her age. No wonder his legendary control was tauter than a tightrope and just as hazardous.

‘You were saying?’

‘I do not consider age when I take a women to my bed.’ He didn’t. Did he? ‘The only thing I ensure is that they know the rules.’ His rules. And he supposed women in their early twenties were less complicated. They were perfectly happy with what he offered. Good sex and a lucrative farewell.

‘In any case, I am older than you. Four years at least,’ he said, wanting to get off the topic of sex and beds before he grabbed her small waist and hauled her atop his lap to straddle him. Then she’d know exactly what age, make and model he was currently lusting after.

‘It’s different for men,’ she said, warming to her topic, hands wafting in the air. And Dante felt a small smile tug at his lips. She’d always been expressive. At least some things were still the same. ‘Look at George Clooney. Or Sean Connery. The older they get, the yummier they get.’

His lips flattened with the speed of an express train.

Yummier
? ‘You find older men attractive?’ What was the black emotion swelling in his chest, pinching his ribcage, making him shift in his seat? ‘But you have only just turned twenty-seven.’

‘I...’ Head whipping round, she searched his face. ‘You remember my birthday?’

November fifth. Bonfire night. How could he forget? She was born to cause havoc. ‘I remember your eighteenth birthday party. The Masquerade Winter Ball.’

‘Oh. No wonder you remember the season. You brought that dark-haired French actress who went skinny-dipping in the lake and almost contracted pneumonia. What was her name again?’

No idea.

‘My point, Eva, is no one will believe our break-up is due to upgrade requirements. We will give a short statement to the press claiming irreconcilable differences and we only wish to be friends.’

She ‘
pfff
’d, the vibration rippling over her lips. ‘Irreconcilable. How very apt. Except friends tend not to hate each other.’

‘
Hate
is a strong word,
cara
.’ While he felt a hyperbolic spin of emotions, not all of them were of the hostile variety. ‘Haven’t we just had this conversation?’

‘Lust is different,’ she said huskily. ‘We’re ignoring that bit. This is business. Safe.’

How long would she last without sex? If her sexual appetite were anything like his today, she would be hungry by Wednesday, famished by Friday. And on Saturday...

A flashback seared his retinas and he glanced at the blinding sun in an attempt to burn the image from his mind. Utter waste of time and effort. For still he could see her as if it were only yesterday. Eva locked in the arms of her rock star...his filthy hands fanning the upper curve of her ass. His Tequila-drenched mouth buried in her neck. Mere hours after Dante had done the exact same thing.

Bitter acid flooded his tongue.
Maledizione
, what was it with women? Why couldn’t they honour one man? But hadn’t his father told him this from the day Dante had walked onto the Vitale estate, no more than fifteen years old? That his own mother had been a whore just like any other.

Dante hauled air into his tight chest. He wasn’t used to this wild emotional state. He was calm. Nothing rattled him. Except
her
.

Keeping his voice steady and even, betraying none of the tumultuous churn of his thoughts, he turned on her. ‘It’s time we discussed the rules.’

She visibly stiffened before him. ‘Rules?’

‘
Sì.
Rules,’ he bit out. ‘No provocative dress.
No
drinking. And, most important of all...you will remain faithful to me,
comprende
?’

Eva drew back, blinking over and over. And he wondered then how much of the darkness was showing on his face. ‘F...faithful?’

‘
Sì
. Completely. Utterly. Faithful.’ Diving into her eyes, he attempted to curb the lash of his tongue but it was a useless pursuit. ‘When the furore settles and we separate, you may sleep with whomever you wish. In the meantime, do not betray me. You will not like the consequences,
tesoro
. This may be business but I will not be made a fool of. Even in appearance. No boyfriends. No. Sex.’

* * *

Hot, heavy and sticky, the air clogged her throat, seared her skin and evaporated the moisture from her mouth as they faced off in the rear of the car.

For the briefest second she thought she saw pain in his eyes but this was Dante they were talking about—all cold, ruthless determination and closed off to the power of ten. Otherwise she would think the idea of her sleeping with another man bothered him. And maybe it did. Not on an emotional level but on the playing field of pride. Eva knew all about pride.

‘This from the man who specialises in one-night stands and two-month marriages,’ she said, wincing at the bitterness in her voice. Still, ‘I would
never
embarrass you in such a way. I thought the whole point of this charade was to protect our reputations, not crucify them. Honestly, Dante, I’ve had enough. I am sick and tired of your caustic references. I do
not
sleep around. Never have, never will.’ And wasn’t
that
the understatement of the century! If he only knew...
Don’t go there, Eva. Just don’t go there.

Time stretched paper-thin as he searched her face for the sincerity she prayed was there. Eventually he drew back, nodded.

The jerky reluctance in that movement didn’t fill her with confidence but it was a start. ‘And do I have your word that I will gain the same consideration from you?’

‘
Sì
, of course,’ he said, voice coated with umbrage.

‘Oh, you’re offended by that demand? Well, now you know how I feel. Neither of us truly knows the other, so can we stop this? Call some kind of truce. Please?’

Because surely the only way to get through this wretched charade with her soul intact was to try to get along with him. Maybe they could be friends.
Oh, yeah, when he thinks you’re a bed-hopping harlot who carouses on the dance floors at night?
Like that was going to happen.

Well, she decided, she’d just
make
it happen. While he claimed not to trust her, he
was
taking a leap of faith. So this was her chance to prove to him that she wasn’t the Diva, party-girl-extraordinaire. That she’d pulled her life around. And maybe, just once, he would look at her, converse with her with something other than derision. Was that really too much to ask?

Maybe it was, if the assessing scowl on his face was anything to go by.