A Marriage Fit For A Sinner. Maya Blake

lips. ‘I don’t care if it was woven by ten thousand silk worms. I’m not wearing a dress that makes me look like a gold-digger and a slut. And considering the state of our finances, I’d have thought you’d be more careful what you splashed money on.’ She couldn’t stem her bewilderment as to why Sophie and her father blithely ignored the fact that money was extremely tight.

      Sophie huffed. ‘This is a one-of-a-kind dress, and, unless I’m mistaken, it’s the kind of dress your future husband likes his women to wear. Anyway, you’ll be out of it in less than four hours, once the right photographs have been taken, and the party’s over.’

      Eva gritted her teeth. ‘Stop trying to manage me, Sophie. You’re forgetting who pulled this bailout together. If I hadn’t come to an agreement with Harry, we’d have been sunk come next week. As to what he likes his women to wear, if you’d bothered to speak to me first I’d have saved you the trouble of going to unnecessary expense. I dress for myself and no one else.’

      ‘Speak to you first? When you and Father neglected to afford me the same courtesy before you hatched this plan behind my back?’ Sophie griped.

      Eva’s heart twisted at the blatant jealousy in her sister’s voice.

      As if it weren’t enough that the decision she’d spent the past two weeks agonising over still made her insides clench in horror. It didn’t matter that the man she’d agreed to marry was her friend and she was helping him as much as he was helping her. Marriage was a step she’d rather not have taken.

      It was clear, however, her sister didn’t see it that way. Sophie’s escalating discontentment at any relationship Eva tried to forge with their father was part of the reason Eva had moved out of Pennington Manor. Not that their father was an easy man to live with.

      For as long as she could remember, Sophie had been possessive of their father’s attention. While their mother had been alive, it’d been bearable and easier to accept that Sophie was their father’s preferred child, while Eva was her mother’s, despite wanting to be loved equally by both parents.

      After their mother’s death, every interaction Eva had tried to have with their father had been met with bristling confrontation from Sophie, and indifference from their father.

      But, irrational as it was, it didn’t stop Eva from trying to reason with the sister she’d once looked up to.

      ‘We didn’t go behind your back. You were away on a business trip—’

      ‘Trying to use the business degree that doesn’t seem to mean anything any more. Not when you can swoop in after three years of performing tired ballads in seedy pubs to save the day,’ Sophie interjected harshly.

      Eva hung on to her temper by a thread, but pain stung deep at the blithe dismissal of her passion. ‘You know I resigned from Penningtons because Father only hired me so I could attract a suitable husband. And just because my dreams don’t coincide with yours—’

      ‘That’s just it. You’re twenty-four and still dreaming. The rest of us don’t have that luxury. And we certainly don’t land on our feet by clicking our fingers and having a millionaire solve all our problems.’

      ‘Harry is saving all of us. And you really think I’ve landed on my feet by getting engaged for the second time in two years?’ Eva asked.

      Sophie dropped the offensive dress on Eva’s bed. ‘To everyone who matters, this is your first engagement. The other one barely lasted five minutes. Hardly anyone knows it happened.’

      Hurt-laced anger swirled through her veins. ‘I know it happened.’

      ‘If my opinion matters around here any more, then I suggest you don’t broadcast it. It’s a subject best left in the past, just like the man it involved.’

      Pain stung deeper. ‘I can’t pretend it didn’t happen because of what occurred afterwards.’

      ‘The last thing we need right now is any hint of scandal. And I don’t know why you’re blaming Father for what happened when you should be thanking him for extricating you from that man before it was too late,’ Sophie defended heatedly.

      That man.

       Zaccheo Giordano.

      Eva wasn’t sure whether the ache lodged beneath her ribs came from thinking about him or from the reminder of how gullible she’d been to think he was any different from every other man who’d crossed her path.

      She relaxed her fists when they balled again.

      This was why she preferred her life away from their family home deep in the heart of Surrey.

      It was why her waitress colleagues knew her as Eva Penn, a hostess at Siren, the London nightclub where she also sang part-time, instead of Lady Eva Pennington, daughter of Lord Pennington.

      Her relationship with her father had always been difficult, but she’d never thought she’d lose her sister so completely, too.

      She cleared her throat. ‘Sophie, this agreement with Harry wasn’t supposed to undermine anything you were doing with Father to save Penningtons. There’s no need to be upset or jealous. I’m not trying to take your place—’

      ‘Jealous! Don’t be ridiculous,’ Sophie sneered, although the trace of panic in her voice made Eva’s heart break. ‘And you could never take my place. I’m Father’s right hand, whereas you...you’re nothing but—’ She stopped herself and, after a few seconds, stuck her nose in the air. ‘Our guests are arriving shortly. Please don’t be late to your own engagement party.’

      Eva swallowed down her sorrow. ‘I’ve no intention of being late. But neither do I have any intention of wearing a dress that has less material than thread holding it together.’

      She strode to the giant George III armoire opposite the bed, even though her earlier inspection had shown less than a fraction of the items she’d left behind when she’d moved out on her twenty-first birthday.

      These days she was content with her hostess’s uniform when she was working or lounging in jeans and sweaters while she wrote her music on her days off. Haute couture, spa days and primping herself beautiful in order to please anyone were part of a past she’d happily left behind.

      Unfortunately this time there’d been no escaping. Not when she alone had been able to find the solution to saving her family.

      She tried in vain to squash the rising memories being back at Pennington Manor threatened to resurrect.

      Zaccheo was in her past, a mistake that should never have happened. A reminder that ignoring a lesson learned only led to further heartache.

      She sighed in relief when her hand closed on a silk wrap. The red dress would be far too revealing, a true spectacle for the three hundred guests her father had invited to gawp at. But at least the wrap would provide a little much-needed cover.

      Glancing at the dress again, she shuddered.

      She’d rather be anywhere but here, participating in this sham. But then hadn’t her whole life been a sham? From parents who’d been publicly hailed as the couple to envy, but who’d fought bitterly in private until tragedy had struck in the form of her mother’s cancer, to the lavish parties and expensive holidays that her father had secretly been borrowing money for, the Penningtons had been one giant sham for as long as Eva could remember.

      Zaccheo’s entry into their lives had only escalated her father’s behaviour.

      No, she refused to think about Zaccheo. He belonged to a chapter of her life that was firmly sealed. Tonight was about Harry Fairfield, her family’s saviour, and her soon-to-be fiancé.

      It was also about her father’s health.

      For that reason alone, she tried again with Sophie.

      ‘For Father’s sake, I want tonight to go smoothly, so can we try to get along?’