A Reputation to Uphold (12 page)

Why did he keep throwing her off balance? Why couldn’t he stay arrogant and unbearable? Why did he have to tell her she looked exquisite when there was no one around to hear him? No audience to play to. Encourage her to speak, hang on her every word as if he truly cared what she thought.

A sweet sharp ache pierced her chest.

Lies. All lies. He was playing the perfect charade.

And yet, for several beats of her heart, they’d shared one long loaded look and she was eighteen again, her mother well and life was wonderful because Dante had burst into their world like a dark storm to whip her body and mind into a frenzy of want and need. And she’d taken every look, every innocuous word and spun them in the spinning wheel of her mind to weave the perfect spell—dreams of a forever kind of love. Where he’d be her first, her last, her everything.

Dante Vitale had been The One.

Then...suddenly her world had begun to fall apart. Suddenly her mother had been fighting for her life. Suddenly they’d been crushed by lies and betrayal and Eva had been catapulted into reality. Where women were fleeting diversions. Disposable. Dispensable. Where Dante soared to stratospheric heights, indulging in one-night-stands with his striking svelte brunettes, Eva knowing she could never compare.

A groan—pained, hers—echoed through the room. Because all it had taken was his warm hand reaching for hers as her mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground and she’d forgotten all about how she was
nothing
like his other women. Only craved his touch, ached for him to still be her first, knowing it was her last chance...

Disaster.
One she couldn’t bear to remember. Because she’d start asking herself questions. Like: why? Why kiss her with the fervour she’d longed for, only to stop? Disappear. She must’ve disappointed him. Somehow.

Much like her second attempt at a physical relationship.

After that, she hadn’t needed any more proof that she wasn’t made for sex. So, in reality, when she’d been told she was high risk, the decision to avoid men altogether had been easy enough to make.

But now he was back.

Dante Vitale, the only man who’d ever made her feel true desire, was back.

And if he’d been disappointed five years ago, God only knew what he’d think now. Now she was broken. Racked with fears even she struggled to comprehend.

She didn’t want to want him. To lie in his arms and be held, desired, made love to with a dark thrilling intensity. So why, every night, when her flesh was stone-cold and the silence was a physical ache, was she dreaming of that with him?
Still
, after all this time.

Impossible.

It was all too late.

One more weekend. Then this charade would end and she’d find peace. The desire would wane. It had to.

She’d forget him again. She must.

Right now it was time to save her business. All she’d ever have. And she was doing it
her
way. The only way she could live with herself.

She was telling Prudence West the truth.

CHAPTER SEVEN

S
LEEK, SOPHISTICATED
,
AND
as sexy as its billionaire owner, Dante’s white super-yacht sliced through the mangroves, trailing ribbons of white froth in its wake.

Hair whipping about her shoulders, spray slapping against her skin in a refreshing cool mist, Eva basked in the endless beauty before her—towering rock faces on either side scored by the hands of time, the rugged façades sprawling with greenery and delicate ivory flowers she couldn’t quite place.

The sun was sheer bliss, a blazing orange, rich and soothing against a sky so blue it could only be described as God’s blank canvas.

Paradise on earth.

‘Comfortable?’ Dante asked, a savage edge still lingering in his tone. A censure she ignored. Yes, she’d been running late for the flight but the man was lucky she was still standing after the week she’d had.

‘Very comfortable, thank you,’ she replied, all sweetness, determined to lighten the mood, if only to get her over the next two days, as she lounged back in the buttery white leather chair.

Despite his dangerous aura, Dante leaned insolently against the back of the dark wood helm facing her, his tall muscular body draped in tailor-made trousers the colour of crème bisque and a navy blue polo shirt—all suave class and sophistication.

Arms crossed over his glorious wide chest, her eyes seared over the densely corded muscle of his forearms before gliding to the open neck. Navy collar flipped high; the crisp edges flirted with his hair but it was the aviators wrapped around his face that almost tossed her over the edge.

Even after all these years, working with models, hanging out with the most handsome men in the world, Dante was still the most savagely beautiful picture of masculinity she’d ever seen.

Tearing her eyes from virile perfection, to her glass of freshly squeezed passion fruit juice, to the sheer beauty whistling by, she said, ‘Oh, how the other half live.’ It was meant to be a joke, a compliment. Instantly, she knew her mistake.

Dante’s lips twisted. ‘You’ve been cushioned by wealth all of your life, Eva. Still would be if you hadn’t blown your mother’s legacy on the party scene.’

Hand tucked into her side, Eva clenched the folds of her white sundress. ‘How do you know about my legacy?’ Blown on the party scene? My God, he really had a low opinion of her. Insides twisting, it took every ounce of effort to hold his slashing glare.

‘Finn told me,’ he declared.

‘I forget how close you two were. Still, I’m surprised he told you something so personal yet you had no idea about my business.’

Something close to guilt washed over his bronzed complexion as he glanced to the east. ‘It was a long time ago. The information was not freely given. I asked him if you were provided for. That is all. We have never spoken of you since.’

Grateful for the huge sunglasses covering half her face, she tipped her face towards the sun.
What were you hoping for, Eva?
That he would ask about you because he cared? That he couldn’t help himself. Just as you couldn’t resist the temptation of hearing one word about him?

Silence stretched, pulling her nerves every which way, until the boat swerved around the rugged edge of a cliff face...

‘
Wow
! That’s your island?’ Clear aqua water lapped at sand so white, so fine, it reminded her of icing sugar. Shallow beaches framed with lofty palms swaying to and fro in the slightest breeze. And, set back within dense foliage, an enormous multi-level mansion, stucco walls, wide panoramic windows. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Anything so stunning. So...dramatic. Dropped smack bang in the middle of paradise.’

‘Welcome to Phang Ton.’

The way he said it... ‘Phantom.’ Like a dark shadow disappearing into the night. ‘It suits you.’ One minute here, gone the next. Leaving a hole as huge and devastating as his home. But not this time. This time there’d be no shadows lurking in her world, taunting her at night.

After the longest flight of her life, she was back in the game. He would have Hamptons in his hand even if it killed her.

All she wanted was for him to look at her with respect. True respect. If they could be friends, she would have closure on the past. Move on. This was her last chance. Because after this weekend she could never risk seeing him. Ever. Again.

The boat veered into a wide private dock where a phalanx of security and staff lined up on the highly polished deck. Dressed in white, they stood to attention, welcoming their master back into his powerful lair. And in that moment she felt a ripple of unease curl around her vertebrae, shimmy down her spine at the thought of the days to come. A role she’d never undertaken before—the role of hostess to a man who demanded perfection—and Eva was far from perfection. If this past week had stretched her acting abilities to the point where her nerves were fraying under the pressure, she just hoped this weekend didn’t tear her apart.

* * *

Two long, hot days of sailing and scuba-diving in the glorious depths of the Andaman Sea blurred into nights of cocktails, laughter, dinner and dance. And by Monday evening, as Dante stood on the deck and waved Yakatani and his wife goodbye, a tidal wave of satisfaction washed over him.

Knowing Eva was waiting for him out back, he swivelled on his heel and jogged up the tiled steps, swerving into the staff entrance at the side of the house. After snagging a bottle of champagne and two platinum-lipped flutes, he headed back outdoors, this time veering left to skirt the balcony to the rear where the fresh scent of the island’s jungle-like interior hung in the vaporous air.

One look and Dante took the usual swift kick to the guts.

There she was. Standing beneath the terracotta-tiled canopy gazing at the lush foliage, one hand twirling the tiny pearl at her lobe, the humidity clinging to her almond skin. Dressed in a white short-sleeved broderie anglaise shirt and a matching knee-length flirty skirt, she appeared angelic. A vivid contrast to the untamed danger surrounding her.

Lowering the chilled bottle to a small table, he noticed the pensive expression on her face and his heart did a strange pang.

Clearing his throat in warning, Dante watched her spin around, her face brightening as she walked towards him.

‘Well?’ she said, coming closer, caramel locks bouncing about her breasts, her gaze darting over his face. ‘Stop teasing me. What did he say?’

Either she was emotionally invested in this deal or her acting skills were outstanding. Because he wasn’t sure, he tried for an unconcerned shrug. ‘Sign in two weeks.’

Fire, fierce and instantaneous, lit those stunning green eyes. ‘Yes!’ she whooped. And flung herself into his arms, or maybe he picked her up—
who cared?—
because he locked his arms tight around her and swirled around the floor. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ the words unnecessary because the way she kicked her feet into the air as he took her lush weight said it all.

Dante buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of camomile, so pure, so soft, so innocent.

A mass of emotions assailed him. That was why he held her tighter still, rocking, trying to block the image, the memory, the sudden question in his mind—one he’d
had
to stop asking himself a long time ago...

Why? Why had she run straight into the arms of another man mere hours after they’d parted in the pool-house? He wanted to know. Why? Why she’d acted so desperate for one night with him when any man would’ve done? But what was the point of dredging up the past, only for her to deny what he knew to be the truth. He wasn’t even sure he could say the words without showing the unwelcome force of his emotions. What a fool she’d almost made of him.

Arms going slack, he gently lowered her to the floor and when she’d gained her footing he took a giant step back.

No matter the past, there were things she deserved to hear. ‘You were amazing,
cara.
Made quite the impression. Yakatani has invited you and me to stay in Japan whenever we wish.’

Cheeks pinking, she smoothed the hug-wrinkles from her blouse with unsteady hands. ‘Oh, dear. How did you get out of that one?’

‘I didn’t. I had more important things on my mind.’

‘Like?’ she asked.

‘Thanking you.’

A warm smile—small and sweet, untutored and beautiful—curved her lips. As if he’d reached to the sky and plucked a star, just for her. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said quietly, that sense of melancholy returning—one he couldn’t understand, one he wanted to erase.

‘Come,’ he said. ‘Let’s celebrate. I have a bottle of the finest fresh from the cooler.’

While Eva held the glasses up, Dante had to force his eyes to do their job until the amber effervescence bubbled to the platinum band, in one, then the other. After sliding the bottle back to the table, he took one glass and toasted, ‘To the future of Vitale. The biggest retail phenomenon in the world.’

‘Congratulations, Dante. I hope it brings you much happiness.’

Happiness? Hell, no, his memory was too good for that. Still...

Clink
went the flutes as the finest crystal collided in mid-air. ‘Grazie,
cara
.’ Years of hard work to ensure Vitale was crowned the world leader. To prove he was worthy of the name. That he, the bastard heir, had succeeded in doing what no other man had.

Tart and smooth, the cool liquid fizzed over his tongue, popped and crackled down his throat as he watched Eva from the corner of his eye. Simply cradling the glass. The exact same thing he’d watched her do all weekend.

‘Why aren’t you drinking?’

‘I don’t drink alcohol. But that doesn’t stop me toasting your success.’

Dante’s face twisted in disbelief. ‘Eva. Come, now. I spend very little time in London but your antics were enough to reach news-stands the world over. Photographs, too many to count, you and...’
Your lover
. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he even say it? ‘...Van Horn. Other male friends besides. Drinking. Partying.
Exclusive
clubs.’ The words began to fire out of his mouth like bullets because suddenly it wasn’t Eva he could see. It was his mother. Stumbling through the door, yet another man in tow. Another noise from her room. Part pain. Part pleasure. Dante covering his ears with the palms of his hands...

Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed, over and over.

‘I know how it looked,’ she said, her hesitant voice pulling him from the depths to meet a sense of shame hovering in the air. ‘Believe me, I know. And I can blame the press for exaggerating my every move. For painting me the Diva. But I was the maker of my own downfall. I put myself in their path. I knew what I was doing at the time. Or at least I thought I did. In hindsight, I think I was...lost. Searching for what, I don’t know.’

Dante blinked, bringing her face back into focus. There she was. The Fallen Angel. But at least she could stand tall and admit her mistakes. Had his mother ever done that?

‘The paparazzi bothers you now.’ Because she had a reputation to protect. So the Diva he’d expected had failed to make an appearance.