Ways To Ruin A Royal Reputation (Mills & Boon Modern) (Signed, Sealed…Seduced, Book 1)

disdainfully. She was more vampire than woman, eschewing sunshine in favor of large-brimmed hats and absorbing her vitamin D through high-priced supplements. “Behave yourself while I’m gone. Neville is ready to propose. I wouldn’t want to put him off.”
Seriously, Mom? It’s been ten years. But her mother never missed an opportunity to remind her.
Amy’s stomach roiled with suppressed outrage, but she only said through her teeth, “You know me, all work and no play. Can’t get into trouble doing that.”
“You wear short skirts to nightclubs, Amy. That sort of work is—Well, I’m sure I can persuade Neville to introduce you to someone if you manage not to mess this up for me.”
Could Luca hear what her mother was saying? He’d finished his own call and pocketed his phone. This town car was the sort that made the drive feel like a lazy canal ride inside a noise-canceling bubble.
“I have to go, Mom. Travel safe.” Amy cut off the call, which would result in a stinging text, but she wasn’t sorry. She was hurt and angry. Bea and Clare always told her she didn’t have to talk to her mother if it only upset her, but Amy lived in eternal hope that something would change.
“Everything all right?” Luca was watching her with a look that gave away nothing.
She realized she had huffed out a beleaguered sigh.
“Fine,” she lied sunnily. “Mom’s off to Australia.”
“You didn’t mention any siblings earlier. Are you an only child?”
“The proverbial spoiled kind. I had one of everything except a brother or sister, which is why my friends are so special to me. Will I meet your sister?”
There was a brief pause that made her think he knew she was deliberately turning the question around to avoid delving into her own past.
“She’s traveling, due home later this week,” he replied evenly.
They were driving past the shell of the castle. As they came even with a courtyard bracketed by two levels of arches in various states of disintegration, she glimpsed a young woman in a uniform leading what looked like a group of tourists. They all turned to point their phones at the car’s tinted windows as it passed.
Seconds later, when they halted to wait for golden gates to crawl open, Amy glanced back, curious.
“The castle is a heritage site,” Luca explained. “Open for booked tours. The island of Vallia was a favorite summer destination for Roman aristocracy. The palace is built on the remains of an emperor’s villa. You’ll see what’s left in one of the gardens.” He nodded as the palace came into view.
“Wow.”
At first glance, the imposing monument to baroque architecture, ripe with columns and domes and naves, was almost too much. Amy could hardly take in everything from the serpentine balcony to the elaborate cornices to the multitude of decorative details like seashells and ribbons. Stone angels held aloft what she presumed to be Vallia’s motto, carved into the facade.
“This is amazing.”
“You can accomplish a lot when you don’t pay for labor,” Luca said, mouth twisting with resigned disgust. “Vallia was a slave trading post through the Byzantine era. Then the Normans used them to build the fortress while they were taking over southern Italy.” He nodded back to the castle. “They sent the slaves into the fields to grow food, and the first king of Vallia used them again to build this palace in the late 1600s, when the Holy Roman Emperor established the kingdom of Vallia.”
Despite its dark history, she was in awe. The white stone of the palace was immaculately tended and blindingly beautiful. The gardens were lush, the windows reflecting the blue skies and colorful blooms.
“It’s not showing its age at all.”
“My father had it fully restored and modernized.”
“The workers were paid this time, I hope?” It was out before she thought better of it.
Luca’s expression hardened. “A livable wage for honest employment, thanks to efforts by my sister and I, because he couldn’t be dissuaded from doing it. Hardly the best use of Vallia’s taxes, though.”
Amy managed to bite back her observation that he didn’t sound as though he had been super close with his dad.
They stepped from the car, and the comforting warmth of sunbaked stones radiated into her while a soft, salt-scented breeze rolled over her skin. The palace was set into terraced grounds facing the sea, but the view stretched east and west on either side. Flowers were bursting forth in splashes of red and yellow, his country’s colors, in the gardens and in terra-cotta pots that sat on the wide steps. New leaves on the trees ruffled a subtle applause as they climbed toward the entrance.
A young man hurried to open a door for him.
Entering the palace was a step into a sumptuous garden of white marble streaked with pinks and blues, oranges and browns. Ornate plasterwork and gold filigree climbed the walls like vines, sweeping in curves and curls up to the sparkling crystal chandeliers. The fresco painted on the dome above had her catching at Luca’s arm, it made her so dizzy. Amid the cerulean skies and puffy clouds and beams of sunlight, the angels seemed rather...sexual.
They weren’t angels, she realized with a lurch of her heart. That satyr definitely had his hand between the legs of a nymph.
A man cleared his throat.
Amy jerked her gaze down to see a palace sage of some type, middle-aged, in a dark suit. His gaze was on her hand, which still clutched Luca’s sleeve.
She let it fall to her side.
“Amy, this is Guillermo Bianchi, my private secretary. Guillermo, Amy Miller. She’s with London Connection, a public relations firm. She’ll assist with the foundation’s gala.”
“I received the email, signor.” Guillermo nodded as both greeting and acknowledgment of her role. “Welcome. Rooms have been prepared and appointments arranged with the team.”
“Thank you. Er...grazie, I mean.”
“Amy will join me for dinner in my dining room while she’s here.”
Guillermo gave an obsequious bow of his head that still managed to convey disapproval. He asked Amy to accompany him up a wide