Victoria Parker – A Reputation to Uphold (страница 8)

‘By hand?’ he asked. Knowing it to be impossible because it would have taken her—

‘Yes, of course. Took me almost a week.’

Every day he was shown a multitude of beautiful clothing, but this... ‘It’s exquisite. I see you have inherited your mother’s eye for detail. Her unmistakable genius with fabric.’

Even as she stood behind him he could sense frank bewilderment that he’d complimented her work.

Having been subjected to his father’s particularly vicious brand of criticism since the day he’d been torn from his mother’s graveside, he had no problem with dishing it out. No longer did it make him angry to hear; it only made him strive to be harder, stronger, more powerful than ever before. But the beauty in Eva’s raw talent stopped him dead in his tracks for there was not one fault in any stitch or placement of pearl.

‘Why didn’t you tell me the extent of your success last night? Your boutique?’

She gave a little huff. ‘Oh, come off it, Dante. You had no interest in my life or anything I had to say.’

He didn’t mistake the touch of hurt in her voice and he was man enough to admit he deserved it. One desperate phone call from Finn, one look into those dazzling green eyes and he’d known trouble was coming. Deflecting it, however, hadn’t brought out the best in him and in the end it had been a pointless pursuit.

‘I had no idea about your work.’ Now he wished he hadn’t closed his ears to Finn’s animated renditions. Without them, he’d been left with one possible avenue.

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.