The Revenge Collection 2018. Кейт Хьюит
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his glass.
‘Gosh, you already sound like a wife.’ He sniggered. ‘Leave off, sweetness, the parents have already given me an earful.’
Having met his parents a week ago, Eva could imagine the exchange.
‘Remember why you’re doing this. Do you want to derail the PR campaign to clean up your image before it’s even begun?’
While Harry couldn’t care less about his social standing, his parents were voracious in their hunger for prestige and a pedigree to hang their name on. Only the threat to Harry’s business dealings had finally forced him to address his reckless playboy image.
He took her arm and tilted his sand-coloured head affably towards hers. ‘I promise to be on my best behaviour. Now that the tedious toasts have been made and we’re officially engaged, it’s time for the best part of the evening. The fireworks!’
Eva set her champagne glass down and stepped out of the dining-room alcove that had been her sanctuary throughout her childhood. ‘Isn’t that supposed to be a surprise?’
Harry winked. ‘It is, but, since we’ve fooled everyone into thinking we’re madly in love, faking our surprise should be easy.’
She smiled. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’
Harry laid a hand across his heart. ‘Thank you, my fair Lady Pennington.’
The reminder of why this whole sham engagement was happening slid like a knife between her ribs. Numbing herself to the pain, she walked out onto the terrace that overlooked the manor’s multi-acre garden.
The gardens had once held large koi ponds, a giant summer house and an elaborate maze, but the prohibitive cost of the grounds’ upkeep had led to the landscape being levelled and replaced with rolling carpet grass.
A smattering of applause greeted their arrival and Eva’s gaze drifted over the guests to where Sophie, her father and Harry’s parents stood watching them.
She caught her father’s eye, and her stomach knotted.
While part of her was pleased that she’d found a solution to their family problems, she couldn’t help but feel that nothing she did would ever bring her closer to her sister or father.
Her father might have accepted her help with the bailout from Harry, but his displeasure at her chosen profession was yet another bone of contention between them. One she’d made clear she wouldn’t back down on.
Turning away, she fixed her smile in place and exclaimed appropriately when the first elaborate firework display burst into the sky.
‘So...my parents want us to live together,’ Harry whispered in her ear.
‘What?’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I convinced them you hate my bachelor pad so we need to find a place that’s ours rather than mine.’
Relief poured through her. ‘Thank you.’
He brushed a hand down her cheek. ‘You’re welcome. But I deserve a reward for my sacrifice,’ he said with a smile. ‘How about dinner on Monday?’
‘As long as it’s not a paparazzi-stalked spectacle of a restaurant, you’re on.’
‘Great. It’s a date.’ He kissed her knuckles, much to the delight of the guests, who thought they were witnessing a true love match.
Eva allowed herself to relax. She might find what they were doing distasteful, but she was grateful that Harry’s visit to Siren three weeks ago had ended up with him bailing her out, and not a calculating stranger.
‘That dress is a knockout on you, by the way.’
She grimaced. ‘It wasn’t my first choice, but thank you.’
The next series of firework displays should’ve quieted the guests, yet murmurs around her grew.
‘Omigod, whoever it is must have a death wish!’ someone exclaimed.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. ‘I think we may have a last-minute guest.’
Eva looked around and saw puzzled gazes fixed at a point in the sky as the faint thwopping sound grew louder. Another set of fireworks went off, illuminating the looming object.
She frowned. ‘Is that...?’
‘A helicopter heading straight for the middle of the fireworks display? Yep. I guess the organisers decided to add another surprise to the party.’
‘I don’t think that’s part of the entertainment,’ Eva shouted to be heard over the descending aircraft.
Her heart slammed into her throat as a particularly elaborate firework erupted precariously close to the black-and-red chopper.
‘Hell, if this is a stunt, I take my hat off to the pilot. It takes iron balls to fly into danger like that.’ Harry chuckled.
The helicopter drew closer. Mesmerised, Eva watched it settle in the middle of the garden, her attention riveted to its single occupant.
The garden lights had been turned off to showcase the fireworks to maximum effect so she couldn’t see who their unexpected guest was. Nevertheless, an ominous shiver chased up her spine.
She heard urgent shouts for the pyrotechnician to halt the display, but another rocket fizzed past the rotating blades.
A hush fell over the crowd as the helicopter door opened. A figure stepped out, clad from head to toe in black. As another blaze of colour filled the sky his body was thrown into relief.
Eva tensed as if she’d been shot with a stun gun.
It couldn’t be...
He was behind bars, atoning for his ruthless greed. Eva squashed the sting of guilt that accompanied the thought.
Zaccheo Giordano and men of his ilk arrogantly believed they were above the law. They didn’t deserve her sympathy, or the disloyal thought that he alone had paid the price when, by association, her father should’ve borne some of the blame. Justice ensured they went to jail and stayed there for the duration of their term. They weren’t released early.
They certainly didn’t land in the middle of a firework display at a private party as if they owned the land they walked on.
The spectacle unfolding before her stated differently.
Lights flickered on. Eva tracked the figure striding imperiously across the grass and up the wide steps.
Reaching the terrace, he paused and buttoned his single-breasted tuxedo.
‘Oh, God,’ she whispered.
‘Wait...you know this bloke?’ Harry asked, his tone for once serious.
Eva wanted to deny the man who now stood, easily head and shoulders above the nearest guests, his fierce, unwavering gaze pinned on her.
She didn’t know whether to attribute the crackling electricity to his appearance or the look in his eyes. Both were viscerally menacing to the point of brutality.
The Zaccheo Giordano she’d had the misfortune of briefly tangling with before his incarceration had kept his hair trimmed short and his face clean-shaven.
This man had a full beard and his hair flowed over his shoulders in an unruly sea of thick jet waves. Eva swallowed at the pronounced difference in him. The sleek, almost gaunt man she’d known was gone. In his place breathed a Neanderthal with broader shoulders, thicker arms and a denser chest moulded by his black silk shirt. Equally dark trousers hugged lean hips and sturdy thighs to fall in a precise inch above expensive handmade shoes. But nothing of his attire disguised the aura he emanated.
Uncivilised. Explosively masculine. Lethal.
Danger vibrated from him like striations on baking asphalt. It flowed over