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

said stiffly. “Given the personal nature of this work, and how I live in my client’s pockets through the course of a campaign, they like to know they can trust me.”
“I’ve paid top price for unquestionable loyalty. I don’t need the frills of bond-forming banter to prove it.”
Keep your mouth shut, she warned herself.
“Lucky you. It’s included with every purchase,” she blurted cheerfully.
The SUV came to a halt, making it feel as though his hard stare had caused the world to stop spinning and her heart to stop beating.
“Dial it back,” he advised.
She desperately wanted to tell him he could use a laugh. Lighten up, she wanted to say, but the door opened beside her. He was the customer and the customer might not always be right, but they had to believe she thought they were.
She buttoned her lip and climbed aboard his private jet.
Did he feel regret at taking her down a notch? If Luca allowed himself emotions, perhaps he would have, but he didn’t. So he sipped his drink, a Vallian liquor made from his nation’s bitter oranges, and watched her through hooded eyes.
He told himself he wasn’t looking for signs she’d been injured by his cut. If she was, she hid it well, smiling cheerfully at the flight attendant and quickly making a work space for herself. She made a call to her assistant to reassign various files and eschewed alcohol for coffee when offered, tapping away on her tablet the whole time.
She seemed very comfortable in his jet, which was built for comfort, but she was relaxed in the way of someone who was not particularly impressed by the luxury. As though she was familiar with such lavishness. Took it for granted.
She catered to celebrities so she had likely seen her share of private jets. Why did the idea of her experiencing some rock star’s sonic boom niggle at him, though? Who cared if she’d sat aboard a hundred yachts, allowing tycoons to eyeball her legs until she curled them beneath her like a cat while tracing a stylus around her lips as she studied her tablet? It was none of Luca’s business if she traded witty barbs with stage actors or played house with playwrights.
He was absolutely not invested in how many lovers she’d had, rich, poor or otherwise. No, he was in a prickly mood for entirely different reasons that he couldn’t name.
He flicked the button to bring down the temperature a few degrees and loosened his tie.
“I’m sending you the contract to forward to your legal department.” Amy’s gaze came up, inquiring. Professional, with a hint of vulnerability in the tension around her eyes.
Perhaps not so unaffected after all.
A tautness invaded his abdomen. He nodded and glanced at his phone, sending the document as quickly as it arrived. Seconds later, he realized he was typing her name into the search bar, planning to look into more than her professional history. He clicked off his phone and set it aside.
“How did you get into this type of work? The company is only two years old, isn’t it? But it won an award recently?”
“For a multicountry launch, yes. Specifically, ‘Imaginative Use of Traditional and Social Media in a Coordinated International Product Launch Campaign.’” She rolled her eyes. “These types of awards are so niche and specific they’re really a public relations campaign for public relations.” She shrugged. “But it’s nice to have something to brag about and hopefully put us at the top of search engines for a few days.”
“That’s how your firm came to my attention, so it served its purpose.”
“I’ll let Clare know.” She flashed a smile.
“Your partner.” He vaguely remembered the name and photo on the website. The dark-haired woman hadn’t projected the same vivacity that had reached out from Amy’s headshot, compelling him to click into her bio and fall down an online wormhole of testimonials.
“Clare is one of my best friends from boarding school. London Connection was her idea. She came into some money when her father passed and wanted to open a business. I worked the social media side of things, organizing high-profile events and managing celebrity appearances. Once we were able to expand the services beyond straight promoting into problem-solving and crisis management, we exploded. We’re so busy, we dragged our friend Bea from her law firm to join our team.” Her face softened with affection. “We’re all together again. It’s the best career I could have imagined for myself.”
“Boarding school,” he repeated. That explained how Amy took to private jets like a duck to water. She’d probably been raised on one of these. “I thought I detected a hint of American beneath your accent. Is that where you’re from?”
“Originally.” Her radiance dimmed. “We moved to the UK when I was five. I went to boarding school when my parents divorced. I was just looking up your foundation. Do I have the name right? Fondo Della Regina Vallia?”
“That’s it, yes.”
“I have some ideas around merchandise that would double as an awareness campaign. Let me pull a few more details together.” She dipped her attention back to her tablet, corn-silk hair falling forward to curtain her face.
And that’s how it was done. Replace the thing you don’t want to talk about with something that seems relevant, but actually isn’t.
Amy Miller was very slick and not nearly as artless and open as she wanted to appear.
Rapport goes both ways, he wanted to mock, but he didn’t really want to mock her. He wanted to know her.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to know what she liked. She was twenty-eight, and at least a few of the men photographed with her must have been lovers. Maybe some of the women, too. What did he know? The fact was, she was one of those rare creatures—a woman in his sphere who attracted him.
His sphere was depressingly empty of viable lovers and historically well guarded against them. His mother had surrounded her children with hypervigilant tutors, mentors and bodyguards. It had