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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.
Slowly, inexorably, his gaze roamed over her apartment, the blatant romanticism of her career choice. Something didn’t make sense. She did not make sense.
Dante scrubbed his jawline with the back of his hand. He’d just have to keep an extra-close eye on her. If only to ensure she played by the rules. His rules.
The tension in his midsection eased, just a touch. This plan could work. It had to work.
They could have it all.
‘I’ve given the press a story that will melt their cynical little hearts,’ he said, knowing his tone was sending the temperature in the room into a rapid decline. ‘The real thing.’
The frown in her brow deepened, even as she focused on the fireplace. As if she were somewhere else. In thought so deep her expression was almost dream-like in its intensity.
‘The real thing?’ she asked, her voice as softly decadent as whipped cream.
‘Sì. Love.’ The word was like poison on his tongue, making it swell, his next words sounding thick. ‘For surely there is only one reason I could be torn from the bonds of an engagement. The fact that I’ve fallen madly in love with someone else. I’ve provided them with a true romantic fairy tale.’
Without looking up, Eva gave a little huff 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 backward onto a satin drenched mattress.
‘You are, tesoro.’
CHAPTER THREE
EVA’S HEAD SNAPPED up so fast a spasm shot up the side of her neck and exploded in her ear.
‘What? Are you crazy?’
Fairy tales? Her and...Dante?
He hitched those broad muscular shoulders, all lazy insolence, and the dark silk lapels of his jacket rippled over the stark white shirt adorning his chest. ‘It’s perfect,’ he said.
Perfect. He was perfect. From his yummy, thick, overlong tousled hair all the way down to his high-sheen voguish shoes. Perfect to look at. Detestable inside. A bit like Christmas cake.
Her mouth worked around words, trying to free her stunned vocal cords. How dare he? How dare he!
He, who just stood there. Wielding a half smile that was nothing short of a weapon of mass female destruction sending her body into nuclear meltdown. A smile that said roll over and take it.
Then there was that arch of one sleek dark brow. Expectant. As if waiting for her to thank him. For what, exactly? Digging her a bigger hole to bury herself in?
‘Let me get this straight. You’ve told the press that you’ve fallen in love with me,’ she said, jabbing her index finger into her chest before turning it back on him. ‘To save your business deal?’
‘Sì. And your deal with the next Duchess.’
His words tore at the tower of her indignation, making it wobble precariously. Would Prudence West be pacified by such a story? She supposed a woman in love, about to marry the man of her dreams, would understand such a predicament.
‘But we’d have to feign a relationship,’ she said, sounding horrified even to her own ears. ‘In public.’ She couldn’t do it. It would kill her. Bad enough he was in her apartment. Touching things. Sucking the pleasure she’d always gained from her soothing space and replacing it with wretched visual pictures sure to taunt her for days. But what was worse, far worse, was that while she’d been counting down the minutes until he would leave, he’d been planning on staying for the foreseeable future. With her. A woman he abhorred. So really, ‘Who would ever believe us?’
‘It is done, Eva. Everyone already believes,’ he said, his voice hardening to steel. The self-satisfied look of earlier being replaced by dark irascibility.
Understanding dawned. He actually expected her to jump aboard the Dante freight train to hell. Without so much as a quibble. In effect, she’d require an industrial-strength fire retardant suit!
‘You didn’t think to ask me first?’ she said, her indignation now fully stoked, voice high octane, ready to smash every glass object within a ten-foot radius. She was in control of her own life, dammit! ‘You’re so...so arrogant.’
He stood to his full six-foot-three, eclipsing the sun and sucking all the air from the room. And Eva held her breath until she nigh on asphyxiated.
‘I am taking control of the situation and fixing it. What have you been doing all morning? Lying in bed painting your pearly toes and rewriting your social calendar?’
‘Oooh. You just can’t resist, can you?’
The devil-may-care shrug he gave her made her angrier still.
Eva sighed, rubbing her temple. When was he going to start taking her seriously? ‘If you want me to admit to something then I’ll admit to fretting. Fretting my little heart out and thinking of what to do next. But do you blame me? There is nothing wrong with being concerned about my business. It may be small fry compared to your whale of enterprise but it’s mine and I’ve worked hard for it.’ Her business was her life. For however long she had. The only joy in a sea of uncertainty. She’d do anything to keep it afloat, but feigning a relationship with Dante was sailing into depths unknown and she wasn’t ready to drown just yet.
‘If it is so important to you, where is the problem?’ he said, now irritated to the point of explosion.
‘I don’t like the idea,’ she said, risking another glance at him, voicing the only argument she could think of without the need to purge her life story. ‘It’s lying.’
Frank bewilderment widened his beautiful deep umber eyes. ‘Funny how naive has never been a word I associate with you. You want to be successful, Eva? You have to play the game. You want to save your career? Get ruthless.’
The only thing ruthless about her was the way she haggled with her suppliers for a measly two per cent and dashed to the supermarket when her favourite ice cream was on special. She preferred to play fair. And she loathed lying. Blame it on the tales she’d heard spouting from her father’s tainted lips as her mother lay sick in bed. Blame it on the press for painting her as an alcoholic, drugged up, sexual assassin. Whatever. Lying to the world, to the soon-to-be Duchess, with Dante, made her feel...dirty, somehow.
That must be why she was scratching at her neck. Why her skin felt too tight. It had nothing to do with his presence filling the room with a dark feral aura that made her feel equal parts aroused and scared witless. How could she possibly hide this ridiculous, malapropos attraction when he wanted it on full show? For everyone to see...
She gripped the squashy arm of the sofa until her knuckles screamed. ‘Whoa, hold on. What’s Finn going to think?’
Dante rubbed over his lips with the flat of his hand and Eva fancied she’d just taken a chunk out of his invincible armour.
‘I will explain everything and he’ll realise that such a story is in our mutual interest. I will not risk losing Hamptons and it’s clear to me you’ve worked hard to gain your professional standing. So let us make the most of a bad situation.’
Why was one more department store so important to him? Was he so power-hungry? She understood ambition but, hell’s bells, he was one of the richest men on earth. It was said he could turn one dollar into a million within an hour. Sell noodles to a Chinaman, green grass to the Irish.
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