Читать книгу Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 86

“YOU are mistaken, Renzo,” Faith said once she found her voice again. Her heart, in the meantime, was pounding at light speed. “You really should see a doctor about that ego, you know. It must be such a burden carrying that thing around.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “You amuse me, and yet I recognize this tactic. It’s not working, by the way.”

“Tactic? What tactic? I assure you I’m only speaking the truth.”

He leaned toward her, his eyes gleaming hotly. “Then prove it to me, cara mia. Kiss me and prove to me that you are unaffected.”

Faith sat stiffly beside him, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “That would be unprofessional, Mr. D’Angeli.”

He lounged back on the seat, watching her with dark humor sparking in his gaze. “Another tactic, lovely Faith. First you insult me. Then you wish to distance me with your formality.”

“I’m your PA,” she said. “It’s perfectly appropriate.”

“But aren’t you curious?”

Her heart thumped at the wicked sparkle in his gaze. Of course she was curious. “Not at all.” She smoothed the fabric of the green dress. “Honestly, does this usually work for you? I’d have thought you had much more complex methods to employ.”

He laughed. And then he leaned toward her and it was everything she could do not to scoot away and cling to the door like a frightened virgin. “You try to push me away with your thorniness, but it doesn’t work the way you suppose it does, cara mia.”

She drew her body upright, holding herself rigid in the seat. “Then you are not as smart as I thought you were. A shame, considering how many people depend upon you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you know what you need, Faith?”

“Sleep,” she ventured. “I didn’t get a lot of it last night.”

One eyebrow lifted. “What I propose does involve a bed, but sleep isn’t part of the equation. At least not immediately.”

She turned her head away to hide the blush that she knew was creeping up her neck and spreading over her cheeks. A moment later Renzo gasped. She turned, her heart tumbling at the anguish tightening his features. He clenched his fists at his sides, and his lips were white with pain.

“Renzo, are you all right? Is it your leg?”

He nodded once, and she sidled toward him, suddenly uncaring about keeping her distance. “Stretch your leg out if you can. Let me massage it.”

His head fell back against the seat, his skin turning ashen as he stretched the leg. She had no doubt he was in agony. “Dio, it hurts,” he said.

“Do you have any pain pills?”

“I do, but I took one last night. I can’t take another for a few days yet.”

His muscles were so tight. Faith massaged rhythmically, trying to ease the cramp. “Why not?”

His blue gaze pierced into her, the depths filled with pain and even perhaps a little bit of fear. “They are addictive, Faith. I can’t allow that to happen.”

No, a man like Renzo would not wish to be addicted to painkillers. She admired his willpower even though she feared he might be a bit too strict with parceling out the pills. “What about anti-inflammatories? Surely you can take those.”

“Si.”

Faith grabbed her purse and dug through it until she found a bottle. “Here, I have something. They’re over the counter and completely safe.”

He blinked at her. “And why do you need these?” he asked, accepting the two pills she shook into his palm.

“My wrists sometimes hurt at the end of a long work day. Typing,” she added when he continued to look perplexed. She poured water into one of the crystal goblets set against one wall of the limousine and handed it to him. He put the pills in his mouth and drank, and Faith continued to massage his leg until he grasped her hands and pulled her against him, wedging her into the curve of his body where he lay back against the seat.

“Just sit with me,” he said softly, his breath ruffling her hair. “That is all I want.”

“But your leg—”

“The spasm is easing. It does not always last long. Thankfully, this is one of those times.”

Faith thought she should move away from him, but she couldn’t do it. She could feel the tension in his body and knew he still hurt, so she leaned against him and sat very still. The heat of his body slid beneath her skin, the sensation both thrilling and comforting. His hand came up to stroke her hair, and goose bumps prickled along the back of her neck.

This was wrong, so wrong. And yet it felt too good.

They didn’t speak, and eventually her eyes started to feel heavy, her body languid. Soon, in spite of her attempts otherwise, she fell asleep against Renzo. When she awoke, the car had stopped and Renzo was gently shaking her.

Faith pushed upright, horrified with herself for falling asleep on him. “I’m sorry.”

Renzo was smiling. “For what? Being tired? I rather enjoyed it, cara. You are incapable of being prickly when you are asleep.”

Faith smoothed her hair, certain it must be a wild mess, and dug through her purse for her mirror, praying to God she hadn’t drooled in her sleep. Or that she wasn’t now sporting raccoon eyes. A quick check in her compact assured her that she still looked presentable, once she slid her fingers through her hair to tame any flyaways.

Renzo exited the vehicle and stood waiting for her while a bevy of uniformed staff swarmed around the car, sorting luggage and packages and carting them into the house. Faith blinked at the facade in front of her. The stone house had that timeworn ocher color that only seemed to exist in Italy. It was less ornate than she’d expected it would be, and she stood with her head tilted back, taking in the wooden shutters and twining bougainvillea and climbing roses that graced both corners of the home. Spilling from each window was a profusion of bright red blooms.

“Do you like it?” Renzo asked.

“It’s lovely.”

“Then look this way,” he said, turning her until she was facing a long slope of garden that butted up against a stone wall—beyond which was a beautiful valley dotted with tall cypresses, yellow fields, purple flowers, green grass and lush vineyards as far as the eye could see.

“We aren’t in Rome?” she asked dumbly. How long had she slept anyway?

Renzo laughed. “No. This is my home in Tuscany. We are closer to Florence than Rome now.”

“I … I missed it all,” she said. Disappointment ate at her.

“You were tired, cara. Besides, there will be plenty of opportunities to see the countryside again.” He tucked her arm in his and led her toward the house. “Now, however, you will wish to rest and freshen up. There is a party tonight.”

Her heart fell. “Tonight?”

“You are nervous?” he asked gently, stopping to face her.

Yes, but she wouldn’t admit that. Faith swallowed. What if there were photographers? What if someone back in Cottonwood saw her in a tabloid? Would they recognize her? She thought of her past coming back to haunt her now, after she’d run so far and done so much to change who she was, and felt sick.

“I—I was thinking you might want to rest,” she said, letting her gaze drop briefly to his leg.

His expression shuttered when she met his eyes again. “I appreciate the concern, cara, but it is not necessary. There is much to be done in the next few weeks and little time to waste.”

She wanted to tell him that looking after his health wasn’t a waste of time, but she knew he didn’t want to hear it. Renzo was determined to ride the Viper even if it killed him. She shoved down the feeling of panic that seemed determined to wrap around her throat and faced him squarely. She wasn’t sure if the panic came from her fear of discovery or her fear for him—or both, more likely—but she didn’t want to think about it any longer.

“Then perhaps we should work on your schedule for a while,” she said briskly, attempting to be all business and hoping he didn’t see that she was upset.

He studied her for a moment before his sexy mouth curved into a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Si, this is a very good idea. Next week, I take the Viper onto the track to begin training. I will have little time for business meetings then.”

Faith’s heart thumped in slow motion. “Next week? Is it ready so soon?”

Excitement danced in his eyes while her stomach twisted in fear. “It is.”

And Renzo would be flying around a track at speeds approaching, perhaps exceeding, two hundred miles per hour. With a leg that could cramp at any moment and render him incapable of controlling the motorcycle.

Faith didn’t want to think about the consequences of that scenario. Instead, she threw herself into her work once they reached Renzo’s home office. They worked for a couple of hours, and then Renzo pushed back from his desk and told her to go get some rest.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Your eyes keep closing. You can hardly keep them open.”

It was true, but he’d shown no signs of being tired and so she’d kept on working. “It’s called blinking,” she said stubbornly.

Renzo laughed. “Indeed.” He got to his feet and stretched. “Nevertheless, go to your room and blink there. I am going to do the same. Come, I will show you where you are staying.”

Faith followed him up the wide marble staircase that sat imposingly at the center of the house. She could hardly keep from gawking as they’d walked through the villa. It was lovely, with marble floors, Oriental rugs, old oil paintings and tapestries on the walls, and vases of flowers filling every surface. There were antiques mixed with modern furnishings, giving it all an eclectic and lush feeling.

It was as sumptuous as the Stein’s penthouse, and yet it was more livable. The kind of place where you could actually put your feet on a table and not be too worried that you were mistaking some sort of modern art piece for a footstool.

Renzo led her down a long hallway with tall doors that opened to bedrooms filled with light. The last one was hers, he told her, and she stepped into the room, certain he’d made a mistake. This was the kind of room you gave to guests, not employees. There was a huge tester bed covered in white linen, antique wardrobes for her clothing, a delicate writing desk by a window, and silk chairs and a couch where she could lounge in the evenings. There was even a television, and three sets of tall windows, which opened onto a balcony with a table and chairs.

Perfect for morning coffee, she thought.

“Do you approve?” he asked as she stood with her back to him and gaped. It was like something out of a travel fairy tale—the kind of thing you dreamed of when you read about Tuscany and imagined yourself living there.

Faith turned to him. “It’s lovely, Renzo. Thank you.”

“I am glad you are pleased.” He came over and put his hands on her shoulders, skimmed them down her arms. “I am across the hall, cara, should you require anything.”

Faith bit the inside of her lip. “I—I’m sure I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

His smile was wickedly sensual. “Nevertheless,” he said as he bent and kissed her on both cheeks while a tidal wave of flame rolled through her, “I am there.”

The party, it turned out, was being held in a villa nearby. Faith slept for a couple of hours, and then dressed in a figure-skimming red cocktail dress with a halter top that kept her modest and a pair of silver strappy heels that made her feel like a princess. She’d asked Renzo why she needed to go along earlier when they were working, and he’d looked at her with that gorgeous broody look he got and told her she was going because he’d realized after the Stein’s party that she was good repellant.

“Repellant?” she’d asked, certain her puzzled frown must have amused him.

“Female repellant,” he’d deadpanned before going on to explain that he did not need the distractions of women in his life right now.

“And what am I?” Faith murmured as she studied herself in the mirror. Especially when she considered the way he’d told her that he was across the hall if she needed anything.

Anything, he’d stressed. Faith shivered as she remembered the feel of his lips on her cheeks, the imprint of his fingers on her arms.

Renzo D’Angeli was a very confusing man, she decided. And very sexy, a little voice added.

Faith ran the brush through her hair one last time. She didn’t look half-bad, though she still wasn’t in the same league as the Katie Palmers of the world. Her hair was smooth and golden, hanging down her back in a lustrous fall, and her eyes really stood out with the addition of eye shadow, liner and mascara.

It was her in the mirror, and not her. Her as she’d never been, she amended. She hadn’t been allowed to wear makeup when she was growing up, and she’d never been allowed to do anything with her hair other than leave it long. As the daughter of a preacher, she’d been required to be as plain and circumspect as possible.

Until the day she hadn’t been.

Faith turned away from the mirror and grabbed her wrap and tiny purse. Then she hurried downstairs to meet Renzo. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the butler came forward to greet her in impeccable English.

“Signorina,” he began, “Signore D’Angeli had business to attend to in town. He asked me to let you know that he would meet you at the party.”

“Grazie,” Faith replied, her heart sinking.

She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going alone, but she went outside to get into the waiting car. The ride didn’t last long, but since it was dark she didn’t see anything along the way, until they arrived at a grand villa with lights spilling out of the windows and people mingling on the grounds and inside the house.

Faith exited the car and stood with her purse clutched to her body like a shield while the chauffeur drove away. Her pulse was tripping along recklessly and she took deep breaths, telling herself not to freak out. There was no sign of a photographer anyhow, was there? Perhaps arriving alone was a good thing, since Renzo was the main attraction for paparazzi. If she just stayed in the background, she would be fine.

“Buona notte,” a voice said before a man strolled toward her from the garden.

“H-hello,” she said as he stepped into the light. If Renzo was the most handsome man on the planet, then this man was surely second. He was tall, broad and lean—and she knew who he was. She’d seen his picture in the same motorcycle magazines in which she’d seen Renzo’s.

“Ah, English,” he said. “You are American, no?”

Faith swallowed. “Yes.”

The man held out his hand. “Niccolo Gavretti. But you can call me Nico.”

“I know who you are,” Faith said as she accepted his handshake. “I’m Faith Black.”

Nico’s handsome face split in a grin. “Ah, Faith, I have heard of you. Renzo’s prized secretary, yes?” His dark gaze slid down her body. “I see why he keeps you hidden away in America. Bella.”

Faith extracted her hand when he tried to hold it for longer than necessary. “No one keeps me hidden. I’ve only worked for Mr. D’Angeli for six months.”

Nico didn’t stop smiling. “Better and better,” he said. “And yet I am glad you are here now.”

“I don’t see why you should be,” she said. He was incredibly handsome, but he didn’t make her heart throb the way Renzo did. He was, like Renzo, a player of the worst sort. Women flowed in and out of his bed like water from a faucet.

He laughed. “You are a beautiful woman. Why should I not be? Unless, of course, you are spoken for already?”

Faith felt herself reddening, though she knew he was only flattering her because it was as second nature to him as breathing. “If you will excuse me, I need to find my boss.”

“I will take you to him,” Nico said, offering his arm. “You will never find him in this crush without help.”

Faith hesitated. It was true the place was overrun with elegantly dressed people. And she spoke no Italian. She’d found a man who spoke English, and who knew Renzo. But she seemed to remember reading that Nico and Renzo were rivals on the track. And she knew for a fact that Renzo was determined to bring out his latest production bike before Gavretti Manufacturing could unveil theirs.

“Afraid of what Renzo will say?” Nico asked.

Faith lifted her chin. “No, of course not.”

“Then come with me, bella, and we will find him.”

Renzo arrived at the party later than he’d thought he would. But he’d gotten a call from one of his investors and he’d needed to go into Florence for a meeting. He’d fully intended to be back by the time Faith left, but he was nearly an hour late. She would, no doubt, be furious with him. He’d sent her into this gathering alone when he should have gone back for her and to hell with the time.

Now, he stood at the edge of the glittering crowd congregating in the garden and scanned it for a sighting of her. He knew she was here because Ennio had still been out front with the car when he’d arrived. Since Renzo had driven his own car, he’d sent Ennio home and then come to look for Faith. He’d tried calling her mobile phone, but she was not answering.

The hostess smiled when she saw him. “Renzo, darling, we’re so glad you’ve returned to Italia,” Filomena Mazzaro said. “How is the new motorbike coming along?”

Renzo didn’t feel like talking to anyone until he found Faith, but he chatted for a moment before asking if Filomena had seen her. Filomena’s brows drew together. “I don’t remember greeting her, no. But I am sure she is here, darling. We have so many people tonight.”

Renzo excused himself after a few more moments and continued the search. He should have asked Faith what she was planning to wear tonight, but how well would that have worked? She was a woman, and no doubt had changed her dress at least three times before deciding.

He drew up short when he spotted Niccolo Gavretti. He’d known Gavretti would be here, but he didn’t particularly feel like dealing with the man tonight.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have to. Gavretti was standing with a blonde in a red dress, and he seemed engrossed in her. He had his hand on her shoulder as he smiled down at her. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her, but she took a step to the side the moment his head dipped. Renzo laughed to himself. He couldn’t see the blonde’s face because the instant she’d stepped aside, a light had shone straight into his eyes, silhouetting her form.

She was, of course, voluptuous. He could tell that much. She had full, lush breasts and a nipped-in waist that flared out again in generous hips. Her legs were long and lovely, her feet encased in delicate shoes with glittery silver straps. Everything a woman ought to be, he decided. Gavretti had excellent taste, as he well knew from the days when they used to prowl the bars of Florence together, drinking and having a good time.

The blonde might be gorgeous, but Renzo wasn’t interested in her. He had to find Faith. He started to walk past the two of them, but the woman cried out as he did so.

The voice was painfully familiar. Renzo stiffened as if he’d been struck by lightning. Slowly, he turned. The voluptuous blonde stared back at him, her green eyes wide, her lips red and luscious and kissable.

Kissable. Maldedizone.

Faith sashayed over to him while Gavretti smirked. The bastard.

“I’ve been looking for you, Faith,” Renzo said calmly. He was proud of himself for how calm he sounded. How reasonable.

She was beautiful. Utterly gorgeous, and he was a fool for allowing her to come alone.

“I’ve been looking for you, too,” she said. “Nico was helping me.”

Renzo’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a smile. He’d seen how Gavretti was helping her. The hard bite of acid flooded his throat as he thought of Gavretti’s hand on her—of his attempt to kiss her. Kiss his Faith. It wasn’t the first time Gavretti had tried to take something from Renzo that did not belong to him. “Was he? How wonderfully chivalrous of him.”

Renzo slipped an arm around her lush form, anchored her to him. She gasped, the smallest intake of breath, and his body responded, tightening, hardening. He wanted her beneath him, making those noises while he took her to heaven and back. While he got her out of his system so he could concentrate again.

Because he’d been thinking of little else but getting her naked since this afternoon, when she’d transformed before his eyes. He should have known better. He’d already been attracted to her, inexplicably perhaps, but now? Now he wanted to mark her as his and kill any man who dared to touch her.

Gavretti’s eyes narrowed as his gaze slipped back and forth between them. “If I had known she was yours, Renzo—”

“She is,” he stated with finality.

He could feel Faith stiffening in outrage. Because she did not yet realize the truth. “Renzo, I am not—”

He cupped her jaw and slanted his mouth over hers, silencing her.