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

been the sort of blister pack wrapping within a window box frame that allowed others to look in without touching. He and Sofia had been safely admired, but never allowed out to play.
Mostly their mother had been trying to protect her children from learning the extent of their father’s profligacy, but she’d also been doing what she could for the future of Vallia. There’d been a small civil war within the palace when she died. Luca and Sofia’s advisers had collided with their father’s cabal—men who had had more power, but also more to hide.
In those dark days, while he and Sofia remained oblivious, deals had been struck that had kept everyone in their cold war positions. Their father’s death had finally allowed Luca and his top advisers to carve the rot from the palace once and for all. Luca had installed his own people, and they all wanted to stay in the positions to which they had ascended—which was how he’d wound up in this predicament.
And the reason he was still living a monk’s existence. He had no time and was monitored too closely to burn off sexual calories. At university, potential partners had always been vetted to the point that they’d walked away in exhausted indifference rather than run the gamut required to arrive in his bed.
As an adult moving through the hallowed halls of world politics and visiting allied territories, he occasionally came across a woman who had as much to lose by engaging in a loose-lipped affair as he did. They would enjoy a few private, torrid nights and part ways just as quickly and quietly. The few who had progressed into a longer relationship had been suffocated by his life, by the inability to make the smallest misstep with a hemline or a break with protocol without suffering cautionary lectures from his council and intense scrutiny by the press.
Luca didn’t blame women for walking out of his life the minute they saw how little room there was to move within it.
Amy would die in such a confined space. She was too bright and vivacious. It would be like putting a burning light inside a cupboard. Glints might show through the cracks, but all her heat and power would be hidden and wasted.
Why was he dreaming of crawling in there with her? Imagining it to be like closing himself within the cradle of a suntan bed, surrounded in the sweet scent of coconut oil and a warmth that penetrated to his bones.
He dragged his gaze from where the barest hint of breast swell was peeking from the open buttons of her dress and set his unfinished drink aside. Best to slow down if he was starting to fantasize about a woman he’d hired—to ruin him.
He bet she could ruin him. He just bet.
His assistant came to him with a tablet and a handful of inquiries, and Luca forced his mind back to who he was and the obligations he still had—for now.
Perhaps when this was over, he promised himself, he would be able to pursue the iridescent Amy. Until then, he had to remain the honorable and faultless king of Vallia.

CHAPTER THREE
AMY’S FATHER USED to joke that he had oil in his veins and a rig where his heart ought to be. His great-grandfather had hit a gusher on a dirt farm in Texas, and the family had been filling barrels with black gold ever since. Her father was currently the president of Resource Pillage International or whatever name his shell company was using these days. He had moved back to Texas shortly after the divorce, remarried, and was too busy with his new children to call his eldest more than once or twice a year.
Amy’s mother came from a family of bootleggers, not that she would admit it. Her great-grandfather had been born when Prohibition ended. The family had quickly laundered their moonshine money into legal breweries throughout the Midwest. Two generations later, they had polished away their unsavory start with a chain of automobile showrooms, fashion boutiques, and most importantly, a Madison Avenue advertising firm.
Amy’s mother had taken the quest for a better image a step further. After pressing her husband to move them to London, she had traded in her New York accent for an upper-crust British one. Since her first divorce, she had continued to scale the social ladder by marrying and divorcing men with names like Nigel who held titles like lord chancellor.
Amy had to give credit where it was due. Her mother had taught her that if reality wasn’t palatable, you only had to finesse the details to create a better one. Of course I want you to live with me, but boarding school will expose you to people I can’t. And, Delaying access to your trust fund isn’t a punishment. It’s a lesson in independence.
People often remarked how good Amy was at her job, but she wasn’t so much a natural at repackaging the truth as a lifelong victim of it. Case in point, her mother’s first words when Amy answered her call were, “You wish to cancel our lunch Wednesday?”
As if Amy had been asking for permission.
Amy reiterated what she’d said in her text. “I had to run out of town. I can’t make it.”
“Where are you?”
In a car with the king of Vallia, winding up a series of switchbacks toward the remains of a castle that overlooked the Tyrrhenian Sea.
“I’m with a client.”
“Who?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
“Amy, if he won’t let you talk about your relationship, it’s not going anywhere.” Perhaps if her mother had worked at the family firm instead of choosing “heiress” as her career, she would know that Amy’s job was not a front for pursuing men with fat money clips.
“Can I call you later, Mom? We’re almost at our destination.”
“Don’t bother. I can’t make lunch, either. Neville—You remember him? He’s the chargé d’affaires to Belgium. He’s taking me to Australia for a few weeks.”
“Ah. Lovely. Enjoy the beach.”
“Mmm.” Her mother sniffed