Victoria Parker - A Reputation to Uphold

Picking up her crystal tumbler, she relished the cool condensation against her palm and used it to motion to an old client. ‘Look, I’m not sure what Finn told you, but I don’t need my hand held to speak to a few friends. I’m a big girl. I suggest you go home to your latest mistress. Business or otherwise.’

Renowned for his stupendous retail mind, his financial wizardry and his ferocious talent in the bedroom, Dante Vitale was a one-night wonder. With the exception of his wife, Natalia, of course. If she remembered correctly, that had been a two-month wonder. Almost as long as her father lasted with one of his fine specimens.

The worst thing was, she’d been so pathetically enraptured with him she would’ve taken one night. But his taste ran to sultry brown eyes, sleek brunettes with svelte sun-kissed bodies. Pure Italianesque. Little wonder he’d never given Eva a second glance. Until she’d literally thrown herself into his path. And even then...

Her face began to burn as the mortal humiliation came back to her in a torrid rush of heat. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle.’ Feet bolting, she managed two steps before a steel arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her back to the bar.

Eva shuddered from top to toe, the melting sensation back with a vengeance as a lock of his shockingly thick hair fell across one eye as he tossed her a ‘stay put’ look.

He ordered a finger of single malt and pinned her in place with the wide span of his hand, only his thumb and forefinger touching her satin sheath. The tiniest contact enough to send all the heat from her face down to her knickers.

‘Don’t you think your dress is a little revealing, Eva?’ he said with a satiric bite. ‘This is a charity fund-raiser, not a nightclub.’ He knocked back the shot and carefully lowered the glass to the polished mahogany bar.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my dress and you know it.’ It was nun-like in comparison to what his usual dates wore. ‘Why are you here, Dante? I understand what Finn was trying to do. He has no idea what happened. But you...’ She shook her head. ‘You should’ve refused. Especially since you can’t bear to look at me for more than five seconds.’

As if to deny her accusation, he deigned to look at her—with such cold detachment he might as well have tossed the whisky-coated rocks in her face.

‘I’m here because I owe Finn, nothing more. As you’ve accurately pointed out, I have far more pleasurable things to do than babysit a loose cannon. But if you think for one minute I intend to break my word to him, you are sadly mistaken.’

She closed her eyes momentarily. ‘People grow, people change.’

‘No. They do not.’ He leaned a touch closer and she went strangely woozy. ‘Especially when they still have the power to stop traffic.’

Only Dante could twist a compliment into an insult with that cynical mouth. His dark eyes flickered down her body and she cursed her penchant for decadent ice cream.

Then he continued in that same thick, dark drawl, ‘That was quite a pile-up you caused in Piccadilly Circus. Did you enjoy the world staring at your body?’

Distaste filled her mouth. ‘That billboard was a campaign for—’

He waved her off with a dismissive flick and Eva sighed. What was the point of arguing with a man who saw everything in black and white? So she stuck with the facts, praying he’d just walk away. ‘Go home, Dante. I don’t need a chaperone.’

‘Apparently you do,’ he said, his caustic gaze dropping to the mineral water she held in a death grip. ‘At least you’re not plastered.’

She gasped. And to think she’d once thought herself in love with the guy!

‘You’re locked in the past. You don’t know me. I drown in work these days.’

‘Really.’ One word, brimming with derision, and she wondered if he even knew what she did for a living. He’d been in Singapore for the past year or so, Italy before that, but he’d seen Finn on occasion. Maybe he didn’t care enough to ask, but frankly she’d had enough of being dragged through the wringer.

Her mouth shaped for speech, ready to tell him what she’d achieved. All about her stunning new boutique, the new contract for the soon-to-be Duchess she’d fought tooth and nail for—

When suddenly he snorted like a displeased horse. ‘And what work would that be, Eva?’ Eyes glittering, he traced her décolletage, a look that turned almost cruel—a striking contrast to the velvet now stroking his voice. ‘Slipping between the warm sheets of the morning papers...hot off the press. Now I’m back in London, what will I wake to find tomorrow? I wonder.’

Eva gritted her teeth and tightened her fingers around her clutch, the temptation to swipe the mocking look off his face far beyond her usual realm of control. Honestly, what was the point of defending herself? He’d made up his mind. It shouldn’t hurt so much, it really shouldn’t. And the only reason her insides felt as if they were being picked apart was because she wanted him gone.

Chin up, she was determined to stand her ground. This time there would be no regrets.

‘Is this the support you promised Finn? To come in here, berate me, when you obviously have no idea what I’ve been doing for the past few years? Claw at my confidence before I have to go on stage? Wow. I’ll be sure to tell him what a grand job you did. Now, get your hand off me and disappear into the night. That is your usual parting gift, after all.’

* * *

Dante tightened his grip on her warm stomach and felt the muscles clench under his palm, the tiny contractions spiking his pulse so hard his jaw set. It took no more than a second to convince himself he was misreading the pain in Eva’s eyes. Then he snatched his hand back and set her free.

A wisp of her sultry scent drifted up his nose as she spun with the grace of a ballerina and sashayed through the clumps of dowdy patrons—a dark pink firework amongst a sea of sickly candy, her position as co-founder of the charity blatant in her choice of colour.

Dante tore his gaze from her sinful behind and ordered another shot of single malt.

Maledizione! He’d handled that really well. And she was right. He should’ve told Finn to find someone else. The crackling atmosphere was like a dark storm brewing in the room, threatening to rain destruction on them all.

Flawless, that was the word people used for her beauty. But it was a lie. Her flaws lay buried deep, hidden under dark lashes, lurking in the wary shadows of her mesmerising mossy-green eyes.

Assuming he’d buried his memories was his first mistake, because he could still feel the damp warmth of her blanched almond skin beneath his lips, the pure tone hinting at an innocent enchantment that was her dangerous allure. The only truth was her curves, which should, quite frankly, be illegal.

Heat, swift and decadently erotic, flooded his veins.

Eva St George. Wild child. Fantasy pin-up for every hot-blooded man.

Raising the glass to his lips, he downed the second finger of Scotch, the warm amber liquid lubricating his throat and inflaming the annoyance swirling in the pit of his stomach. He should not have touched her again. But if there was one thing Dante loathed it was a woman turning her back on him. He did the walking. He was in control. Always.

It didn’t help that the only time he’d ever lost it was with Eva. No matter how many times he insisted he had merely been comforting her on the night of her mother’s funeral, he couldn’t escape the fact that sanity had slipped from his grasp. And he’d almost taken her...Cristo, on the floor of the pool-house!

And tonight. She must be hurting. That was the pain in her eyes. That was why Finn had asked him to come. Because he knew Dante would remember. For all her wild ways, she’d loved her mother and watching her struggle with remembered grief was not a sight he relished. That, he insisted, was because of his loyalty to her brother, his friend.