A Reputation to Uphold (22 page)

Soul aching, she said in a wild whisper, ‘Listen to me. I don’t know one other man who could reach the heights of your success. I hope you are very proud.’ Rubbing her thumb over his soft fleshy bottom lip, her mind drifted. ‘What did you say to me this morning? About the good memories of my mum and dad. You said:
keep the good memories in your heart
. So I say take all your achievements, your successes and hold them in your heart. And be proud of yourself.’

Leaning forward, she kissed the corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t allow him to rule your life any longer. Rise above him, Dante, far, far above him where you belong. Promise me.’

For long moments he stared into her eyes. One long loaded look, the connection so startlingly intense, the world seemed to compress around them. As if they were the only two living souls on the planet. A look that said a million things and, like the mysteries of the universe, she understood none of them.

A shadow crept over her shoulder, smothering the light. As if the sun had been usurped by thick ominous clouds and a new emotion penetrated the haze.

Fear. She could feel fear in the air. Coating her skin, cool and clammy, until she struggled to breathe. It clutched at her heart and it was all from her—she knew it
must
be. Yet there was something in his eyes, those fathomless dark eyes—a look she’d seen once before—but she couldn’t place it, no matter how hard she tried. So elusive. So out of reach.

And that only served to heighten her frustration. Her fear. Because, for the second time in her life, she was about to put her heart on the line for him. Such folly, she knew. But it was this place. Bewitching. Beguiling her with hope when she knew it was bad for her soul. It was his words:
how strong you are...no more fear.
Giving her strength. When she felt weak as a newborn foal.

A tremor started in her toes, swept up her legs and, before it reached her hand, she took it from his face. Twisted her fingers in the well of her lap. ‘Don’t you ever want more? More than Vitale? More than success?’

From nowhere the breeze turned volatile. Wind slammed into her back to send strands of hair blowing around her face and her eyes closed in defence. Reaching up, she swept her brow and, when she opened her eyes once more, Dante’s unyielding jaw was locked tight, the muscle protesting fiercely. ‘What else is there to live for, Eva?’

Do it, Eva. Say it. Say it. Be brave. Be strong.

Raising her legs from the water, she hugged her wet knees to her chest and tried for a nonchalant shrug. ‘I don’t know. Love?’

Out went the light in his eyes, even his bronzed skin visibly paled. ‘Love is not possible for a man like me.’

Eva nodded slowly, her bones colder than they’d ever been before.
You’re such a fool, Eva.

She’d been lying to herself, thinking she could marry him and stop herself from wanting more, from craving his love. When, in truth, that was all she wanted. All she’d ever wanted. His heart.

And that made her feel selfish and shameful because gaining his love would only bring him pain if she fell sick.

Oh, God
, she was a horrible, horrible person because she wanted the whispering promises of this idyllic Utopia. The fairy tale. What her mum and dad shared all those years ago. The love
this
man made her remember. She wanted it all.

Sadness crept into her chest until each breath ached and she bowed her head, resting her brow on her knees, the future suddenly a scary place.

Because, yes, she desperately wanted to be pregnant, to have
his
baby, but that would lead her to a marriage bed that would surely turn as cold as his first, as she craved for his love and affection. Leaving her vulnerable. Heart, shattered fragments of pain.

The wind picked up pace, whipping around her, smacking off her wet legs, nipping her skin. Lifting her head, she focused on the surface of the water, the ripples now deep from the hard lick of the breeze.

Crushing her lips, she rocked back and forth, the hard ground biting into her flesh. ‘Why did you bring me here, Dante?’
Why did you make me fall again?

‘I knew you would appreciate such vivid beauty,’ he said easily, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. ‘I will gift it to you if you wish.’

Eva snapped round to face him, ignorant of the pain shooting up her neck. ‘Gift it?’ Like when he bought jewellery for his bed-partners as a fond farewell?

‘
Sì
. As a wedding gift.’

‘You seem awfully sure I’m pregnant, Dante.’

He shrugged those arrogant shoulders. ‘I am.’

‘You really want this baby, don’t you?’

‘
Sì
. Very much. I have wished for an heir for a long time. It will be a dream come true for me.’

Every muscle in her body froze—
an heir
?

Mind spinning like a bobbin wheel, she began to reel in threads. ‘That’s why you married Natalia, isn’t it? Not only to please your father but for an heir.’

‘Of course. Why else?’

Oh, boy
. Here she’d been dreaming of churches and christening gowns and Dante had pounced for an heir. From the start it had been about Vitale and he’d lured her in like the Pied Piper whistling his flute. First for the sake of Hamptons and now a possible heir to the Vitale empire.

My God, she could see it now. She’d bet the first thing that popped into his mind after the anger had abated from not using protection was:
Heir. Vitale. Vitale.

And he intended to placate her with what? Sex and an island?

‘I imagine it’s worth quite a bit,’ she said, not entirely sure what the hell she was playing at. Only knowing she wanted him to hurt like she did.

‘Several million,’ he said. ‘It is easy enough to arrange. I can have the marriage contracts adjusted by sunset if you so desire.’

Everything stopped.

Her breasts began to rise and fall in heavy waves, while he just sat there. Pensive. Gazing across the lake. Clearly thinking of his precious Vitale. And her throat—
God
, her throat was stinging with the prick of a thousand pins.

For a split second she considered the idea she was overreacting. Being irrational. Ditched that idea right in his damn lake!

‘You had papers drawn up?’ she said, her voice escalating with every word. ‘Like...a business contract?
Already
?’

With eerily slow movements, he turned to face her, one dark insolent brow raised over his intense glare. ‘
Sì
, this morning. Is there a problem?’

Eva shuffled along the grassy lip, creating distance.

She’d told him all her secrets, all her fears and he’d made love to her, shattered her every defence until she’d opened her heart. And all she’d wanted was for him to hold her and instead he’d left her in bed. Alone. To draw up a...a
marriage contract
? ‘How can anyone be so cold? Heartless.’

His beautiful, despicable head jerked as if she’d slapped him. Right now, she couldn’t care less.

‘Why a contract, Dante?’ she said as an insidious notion slithered into her mind. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘It is not a question of trust.’

‘Oh, yes, it is.’ Clearly, he didn’t trust her. After all that had happened between them. He still didn’t trust her. And,
oh, God
, that hurt. ‘What exactly does this contract protect your heir against?’ She thought back to his mother, his childhood—his awful volatile childhood—and her heart wept for him but what did she have to do to prove herself?

Pique, which must have been as plain as the nose on her face because his brow scrunched, eyes raking over her. ‘Eva, you are looking at this the wrong way. It will protect us all. You will be financially secure—’

‘But I don’t want your money, Dante!’ she said, hating the quiver in her voice as she scrambled to her feet, stumbling backward, water dripping down her calves. ‘And I will not marry a man who does not trust me. It’s all so cold. I am not one of your stores to buy or tie up in a business contract. You can’t control my life.’

Worst thing was, she couldn’t even hate him for trying.

The gorgeous man put more faith in business contracts, what he could actually control, than the power of emotion or even human nature. So many people had let him down in his life he trusted no one. He’d become impenetrable.

Whoosh
, he was up on his feet, towering over her, all six-foot-three of male dominance and seething fury.

‘Hear this, Eva,’ he growled, feral waves pouring off his buff frame and his eyes... There was something terrifying about the splintering power of his gaze. ‘If you are pregnant we
will
marry. You may have no choice.’

‘Oh, believe me, I do have a choice. That’s one thing you can’t control. Baby or no baby, I will never marry you.’ The words lanced her throat, for how many times had she dreamed of marrying this man? But not like this.

Clouds, thick with anger, rolled across the sky and Eva felt the first drops of rain pelt her flesh.

‘We discussed the need for marriage, Eva,’ he bit out.

‘Well, suddenly I don’t care about the reputation I’ve fought so long and hard for. People will just have to take me as I am. I don’t care about what the papers say about me. I know the truth. What’s more important is that I can live with myself. So I will stand tall and tell Finn that the fault is mine alone.’

Thunder rumbled up his heaving chest before he struck her down with a bolt of lightning. ‘You
know
how important it is to me that my child has my name. You gave me your word, Eva. And you question why I do not trust?’

Pat, pat
went the rain, the heavy beat punishing, trickling a path down her shoulders, her chest, dousing the flaming sparks of her ire.

‘I know, I’m sorry. But...don’t you see? It isn’t about names. It isn’t about marrying me to prevent history repeating itself. You have to trust me. I’m
not
your mother. And you’re
not
your father. He was a dishonourable man. A terrible dad. But you...you have honour. Integrity. Never have I doubted for a second that you wouldn’t stand by me. You would be a great Dad. You’re
nothing
like him.’

Shaking his head fiercely, he threw his muscular arms wide. ‘Then why break your word? Why refuse to marry?’

She covered her heart with the flat of her hand. ‘Because I want love. I want to get married in a beautiful little church and speak vows from my heart and know that the man standing beside me loves me for who I am.
Not
what I can give him. I want the fairy tale and I’ll never have that with you.’

Dante’s arms dropped to his sides, hands clenched, a look bordering on torment tightening his features. ‘One night. You got your one night, Eva,’ he said thickly. ‘Five years late, but you got it.’

Eva stroked up her chest, fingers curling around her throat. If she wasn’t mistaken, she would say he was hurt. No. Surely not. How could she possibly have the power to hurt him?

‘I’m so sorry.’

Hands trembling, she closed her fingertips round her engagement ring and slipped off the heavy band. Unable to look at the beauty, the promise. Unable to even think about the words he’d whispered to her that day. Knowing she would crack in two.

Nothing is too much for the woman of my heart, tesoro.

Feet squelching on the sodden grass, she took two steps forward...took his hand, placed her ring in his palm and stumbled back. ‘As soon as I know, I’ll tell you. I believe I have all three of your business numbers after all.’

All that riveting beauty schooled into impassivity before her very eyes.

‘Very well,’ he said, throwing her ring into the air and catching it in the same hand, his lips twisting with that cynicism it had taken her a week to erase.

She just thanked God for Mother Nature’s wrath because the rain now fell in heavy lashing sheets, pouring down her face. Blending, hiding the warm tears streaming down her face.

Flick
, up the yellow diamond spun once more, glinting in the air as he turned to walk away...and her heart cracked in two as she heard the soft
plop
of hope, of the fairy tale, falling, falling, falling into the dark depths of the lake.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Two weeks later...

D
ANTE WRESTLED WITH
the thick knot of his cerise tie, shoved his icy finger down the tight space between neck and collar and tore the top button of his white shirt free. Staring at the solid oak, he asked himself again—why? Why couldn’t he knock on her door?

Cristo
, he was cold. Cold through to the pit of his stomach. Colder than the dense blanket of new-fallen snow outside her boutique, colder than the now clear liquid pooling on the floor around his Italian leather–soled feet.

And,
Dannazione
, he ached. Ached only for her.

For the first time in his life he was terrified. And, as the night drew to a close, he beat and berated himself for wandering around the city—his benighted soul oblivious to the Christmas Eve cheer—preparing mental speeches, which for the life of him he couldn’t recall.

Rolling his shoulders, he inhaled slow and deep. Raised his hand and rapped on the door, once, twice, bracing his taut body for the cataclysmic impact of simply taking one look.

The sound of metal sliding across metal filtered from inside and scored his sensitized skin like talons down a chalkboard. And when the solid oak swung wide...his heart stopped. Dead.

There she was. Tousled. With that adorable sleepy look about her. The one that made him remember and covet all at once.

Eva St George.

Twenty-seven years old and more beautiful than ever. All that gorgeous caramel hair a tumble of lavish waves framing her exquisite face. A warm dove-grey jersey dress clung to her lush curves, delineating the fine bones of her décolletage, the long sleeves framing her delicate wrists and the straight-cut hem kissing her knees. But,
Cristo
, it was the bare feet that really snagged him. Perfect little toes painted pearly-white, as if she walked on heavenly clouds. And there it was again. That hint of innocence he now
knew
to be truth.