Victoria Parker: A Reputation to Uphold

Out of the frying pan and into the fire…

When designer Eva St. George, branded wild and shameless by the media, is caught with tycoon Dante Vitale, it’s guaranteed to make the headlines. With a fledgling reputation to salvage, how can Eva refuse Dante’s exit strategy?

Only, his solution is not to leave but to stay—together!

This ruthless Italian’s sole focus is business, and if they can convince the world they’re truly in love, they both just might get what they want. With enough heat between them to rival the Sahara, the fine line between business and pleasure is going up in flames.

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

The frown in her brow deepened.

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

‘Si. Love .’ The word was like poison on his tongue, making it swell, and his next words sounded thick. ‘I’ve provided them with a true romantic fairytale.’

Without looking up, Eva gave a little scoff 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 backwards onto a satin-covered mattress.

‘You are, tesoro .’

VICTORIA PARKER’s first love was a dashing heroic fox named Robin Hood. Then came the powerful, suave Mr Darcy, Lady Chatterley’s rugged lover—the list goes on. Thinking she must be an unfaithful sort of girl, but ever the optimist, she relentlessly pursued her Mr Literary Right and eventually found him lying between the cool, crisp sheets of a Mills & Boon ®—her obsession was born.

If only real life was just as easy…

Alas, against the advice of her beloved English teacher to cultivate her writer’s muse, she chased the corporate dream and acquired various uninspiring job titles and a flesh–and–blood hero before she surrendered to that persistent voice and penned her first Mills & Boon ®romance. Turns out creating havoc for feisty heroines and devilish heroes truly is the best job in the world.

Victoria now lives out her own happy–ever–after in the north–east of England, with her alpha exec and their two children—a masterly charmer in the making and, apparently, the next Disney Princess. Believing sleep is highly overrated, she often writes until three a.m., ignores the housework (much to her husband’s dismay) and still loves nothing more than getting cosy with a romance novel. In her spare time she enjoys dabbling with interior design, discovering far–flung destinations and getting into mischief with her rather wonderful extended family.

A Reputation to Uphold

Victoria Parker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Tony, who has developed a saintly patience with regard to his ‘missing’ wife. For my amazing children, Ben and Issy, who graciously accept when Mummy is busy. And for Megan Haslam and Kathryn Cheshire for their keen insights and endless encouragement

Thank you all.

And finally, I dedicate this book to Nanna Beena, Auntie Dot, Lynn, Helen and my beautiful sister, Phillipa. To always remember that life is not about waiting for the storm to pass…it’s about learning to dance in the rain. As my characters Dante and Eva are about to discover…

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

‘DON’T DO THIS to me, Finn. Please. Not today.’

Over the din of society’s elite, Eva St George crushed her mobile phone against the shell of her ear and sank a fingertip in the other. Hoping the snowy crackle was a particularly bad line and not an indication that her brother was still knee-deep in Switzerland.

‘Damn.’ Pushing off the oriental silk-covered wall, she swerved through the cliques—women dripping in jewels, adorned in the latest haute couture, and male powerhouses garbed in bespoke evening wear. And all the while her eyes were locked on the ornate double doors leading from London’s most prestigious ballroom. ‘Finn, give me a minute.’

Twenty-foot banners hung from the high ceiling in swathes of candyfloss-pink emblazoned with crystal love-hearts—the emblem for Breast Cancer United, the charity Eva and Finn supported. One night a year, together, they launched the fund-raiser in honour of their mother.

Right now, the omission of togetherness was the sting of a needle sinking into her heart.

Palm flat, she pushed the heavy oak and swept into the vast reception of the Royal Assembly Rooms, wobbling on her five-inch heels as plush fawn carpet gave way to sleek graphite marble.

‘Okay. Talk to me. Where are you?’

‘Look, sis, I’m really sorry. Every airport is closed. I’ve even tried to pay some rookie half a mill to fly me there but he can’t get clearance.’

Pain exploded behind Eva’s eyes and her hand shot up to her temple. ‘Oh, God.’

‘You can do this, Eva.’

Eyes darting this way and that, she spotted an alcove and slunk into the small space, swallowing past the wretched knot in her throat. ‘Finn. They’re expecting both of us. How can I possibly...?’ She stopped herself short. Inhaled long and deep, then pursed her lips, releasing the warm air in one soft stream. Knowing full well she could do it on her own; she just didn’t relish the thought. Speaking in front of hundreds of people who were no doubt waiting for the ‘Diva’ to nosedive wasn’t the nicest prospect in the world. Not only that, in a strange sort of way it felt as if they were letting their mother down. And, since her death, Eva had let her down enough. But the last thing she wanted was for Finn to worry or feel guilty.

‘Don’t worry, okay? I can handle this.’

‘Of course you can,’ he said with an encouraging bluster that said he wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘We’re talking about the woman who has just won the admiration of Prudence West, the soon-to-be Duchess of Wiltshire. Congrats, by the way.’

Eva rubbed her temple, waiting for her brain to catch on to the change of subject amidst the escalating throb, as she mentally altered a speech for two speakers. Problem was, it was taking a while and, by the time she realised what she was doing, her fingers wore more make-up than her face.

Scrambling in her vintage clutch for a tissue before she ruined her best dress, she said, ‘Thanks, Finny. Prudence West is lovely. She adored my gown designs.’

‘So she should—anyone with an ounce of taste can recognise a star in the making. Westminster Abbey, huh?’ His deep voice paused as if he were relishing every word. ‘My little sister under the royal spotlight. I’m so proud of you.’

Eva smiled and thought, not for the first time, how much she missed him. Finn was the only sane person in the family. Well, as sane as any jet-setting racing driver could be.