Читать книгу Unnoticed and Untouched - Lynn Harris Raye - Страница 8

RENZO was in a good mood. Aside from Lissa Stein’s behavior—and the way his leg now throbbed after so much time standing on it—it had been a good evening. Stein had expressed interest in building custom tires for the Viper, and an acute interest in an exclusive partnership with D’Angeli Motors, should the Viper prove a success during the time trials next month in Italy. The bike wasn’t quite ready yet, but Renzo had high hopes they’d be able to begin training for the MotoGP season soon.

But, more interestingly, he was very much intrigued by the woman sitting beside him in the limousine. He’d kept her close for the rest of the evening, ushering her through the gathering like a prized possession. Lissa Stein had stayed far away, grazie a Dio.

While that had been his priority in bringing Faith tonight, he’d found that he rather enjoyed having her near. She made no demands. She did not simper or whine or pout. In fact, she seemed quite prickly, and she’d taken him to task over the women in his life. Rather than finding it impertinent, he’d been amused.

She might bristle like a porcupine, but he couldn’t help noticing that she’d shivered and blushed when he’d touched her. And that it seemed to infuriate her that she had.

When he’d backed her against the terrace wall and put his hand on her cheek, he’d had every intention of kissing her even though he knew he should not. He’d never yet committed the sin of making love to a personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line now. But he had wanted to taste her. Just for an instant.

He still wasn’t certain why. Faith Black was not a gorgeous model, but she had some indefinable quality about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. She was strong, but also vulnerable. She’d experienced pain in her life, but that pain hadn’t defeated her. He’d seen it in her eyes when Lissa had made those hurtful comments. He’d wanted to defend her, but she hadn’t needed defending.

“I have not forgotten that you did not answer me about Italy,” he said into the silence.

The interior of the car was dark, other than the lights from the street that shone inside as they drove back toward Brooklyn. One of Faith’s earrings caught the light as she turned her head toward him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

“And what have you been thinking?”

“You didn’t tell me how it would work once I got there. Where would I live? Would I need a car? I haven’t driven in years, and I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable relearning that skill in a foreign country. It’s not that I can’t drive,” she hurried on, “but since I’ve lived in New York, it’s been unnecessary.”

She sounded somewhat breathless, he noted, as if she were nervous and trying to hide it. Interesting.

“I have a very large house, cara. You would stay with me. And there is no need to drive, as you will travel with me wherever I go.”

Wherever he went? Renzo surprised himself with the statement, but si, it made the most sense. How could she organize his appointments if she did not accompany him?

“I’m not sure I could do that,” she said very quietly.

“Why not?” He sounded perplexed. Because he was perplexed.

“Because at least I have weekends off now. I have my own life, you know. It does not revolve around you twenty-four hours a day. And it sounds like it would in Italy.”

A sudden thought occurred to him. Perhaps it should have occurred to him before, but the simple fact was that it hadn’t. “Do you have a boyfriend, Faith? Someone you do not wish to leave behind?”

He knew what he wanted the answer to be, but he had no idea what she would say. If she would ruin his good mood by giving him a different answer than he desired.

“No, no boyfriend,” she said.

A sliver of relief slid through him at her soft words. Not that he cared if she had a boyfriend, of course. But it would make it much easier if she did not.

“Any pets?”

“No. No pets. I had a cat, but he died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, as if she were trying to say it was nothing. And yet he wasn’t fooled. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “It’s fine. He was old and it was his time. I wanted to get a kitten, but they need so much attention. Well, any cat does, really, and I work a lot so …”

Her voice trailed off and he found himself feeling somewhat guilty, as if he was at fault because she hadn’t gotten another cat. He did work long hours, and sometimes she stayed behind, too, not leaving the office until after seven or eight in the evening.

No, a cat would not like that. Neither would a boyfriend.

She shrugged again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t really want to know all that. I’m babbling.”

“I’ve never heard you babble, Faith. I would hardly classify this as babbling.” He knew babbling. Katie had been a babbler. He’d found it somewhat annoying that she couldn’t ever stop talking, but he’d tried to keep her mouth too occupied to talk whenever they were together.

Renzo frowned. What had he ever seen in Katie? Besides the perfect body, of course? She’d been so shallow, so self-absorbed. Why had he surrounded himself with that?

“Well, I’m babbling now. My mom would say I—”

He heard her indrawn breath. “Would say what?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She’d folded her hands on her lap again, and he found himself wanting to take one of her soft hands in his and rub circles in her palm the way he’d done before. Just to feel that tremor slide through her.

“You can tell me,” he said.

“I’d rather not.”

She sounded so prim, so controlled. It made him wonder. How had she worked for him for six months and he didn’t know anything about her? She didn’t seem to want to talk about her past. And though he wanted to command her to tell him what she’d been about to say, he could hardly do so. It wasn’t like he enjoyed talking about his past—his family—either.

His mother was a good woman who’d worked hard all her life, but he was still somewhat embarrassed by his origins. He shouldn’t be, but he was. Not because of her, but because of the Conte de Lucano. From the moment he’d learned who his father was when he was eight years old, the one time the man had come to see them and threatened his mother if she dared tell anyone who had fathered her child, he’d felt inferior. Damaged. Like garbage tossed on a scrap heap.

For all he knew, Faith felt the same. “You do not like talking about your family,” he said.

She sighed. “No, I don’t like talking about them. I left years ago and I’m never going back.”

It was the closest thing to a vow he’d ever heard her utter. She said it with such conviction. Such bitterness.

Such passion.

Renzo felt a jolt of awareness curl through him. Maledizione, was he mad? She was his PA, and though he didn’t quite understand where this sudden attraction to her sprang from, she was most definitely off-limits. She had to be. He needed to concentrate on the Viper, and he needed his efficient PA at his side, taking care of the business side of his life while he rode the hell out of the motorcycle and worked on the adjustments to the design. If he crossed the line with her, he could endanger everything—in so much as she might leave and he’d have to train a new PA when he did not have the time.

No, Renzo could not afford to endanger anything right now when time was critical. When Niccolo Gavretti was just waiting to find a weakness he could exploit in his quest to destroy Renzo and D’Angeli Motors. He should have crushed Niccolo when he’d had the chance, but he’d been sentimental. Idiot.

“I don’t suppose you care to tell me why,” he said, more than a little curious about what could make quiet, calm Faith Black run away from home.

Her head moved, the lights shining off her golden hair as she shook it. “Some families don’t get along,” she said. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

He could only stare. He’d thought her sweet, harmless, and here she was made of steel and wrapped in velvet. Faith did not speak to her family. It was a revelation, and he burned with curiosity as to why. He spoke to his mother and sister regularly, couldn’t imagine not speaking to them. But here was this quiet girl telling him with such vehemence that she’d cut herself off from everyone in her life.

It stunned him. This was a woman with unsuspected depths. A woman who’d worked for him for six months, and he’d never once realized there was more to her than the face she presented him with every day.

The car pulled to a stop in front of her apartment building. He thought she might make a dash for it, but she waited for Stefan to come around and open the door. Renzo stepped out onto the pavement, his leg throbbing so badly now that he knew he would need a pain pill when he got home. At least, mercifully, the damn thing would make him sleep.

“You don’t have to see me up,” Faith said as he started toward the building door.

He turned toward her, saw the worry lines bracketing her mouth, and knew that she’d seen through him. For some reason, that made him angry.

“I do,” he said shortly, his tone brooking no argument. A part of him was saying he was a fool, but the other part—the prideful, stubborn part—insisted he could still do any damn thing he wanted to do. It was simply an issue of mind over matter. If he couldn’t conquer the little things, like stairs, how could he conquer the big things, like riding the Viper on the Grand Prix circuit?

Faith turned away in a huff and walked to the door. He followed her. She used her key to get inside the building, and then they were moving toward the stairs. She took her time, saying her high heels were bothering her, but he suspected she did it for him.

His leg cramped as he climbed the two flights, but then they were in the hall and standing before her door. Pain spiked into his leg then, radiating through his entire body so that he leaned against the wall, certain he wouldn’t be moving for at least five minutes. Per Dio.

Faith unlocked her door and turned, a little gasp escaping her when she saw him standing there. “Renzo? Are you okay?”

“Si, of course,” he said, but his voice sounded as if he were gritting his teeth. Which he was, he realized a moment later.

Faith didn’t hesitate. She looped her arm in his. “Come in and sit down. Let me massage it for you.”

Now why, in the midst of his pain, did that thought make his libido kick into gear?

“I’ll be fine in a few moments. Just let me stand here.” It wasn’t an admission he’d wanted to make, but he wasn’t so stubborn as to deny the truth when she could clearly see it.

She frowned up at him. “I had a roommate who was a massage therapist, and she taught me some things. I’m not a professional, but I can try to ease the cramp.”

“It will go away in a moment.”

Her expression said she didn’t believe it for a minute. “I can massage it or you can stand here. Whichever you prefer. But know this. My feet hurt and I’m going inside and sitting down, with or without you.”

He swore softly in Italian, but he let her help him into the cramped living space of her apartment. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the limp this time. What was the point?

She eased him down on her sofa and then hastily moved magazines from her coffee table before bending to pick his foot up and prop it on the table. Renzo leaned his head back and closed his eyes as pain throbbed into his body.

“You shouldn’t have stood on it so long tonight,” Faith said.

“This rarely happens,” he replied automatically, though it was a lie. In truth it happened too often of late. And what if it happened on the track? He’d been asking himself that for months now. The consequences could be disastrous. He knew what it was like to wipe out at two hundred miles an hour. Knew how lucky he’d been to wake up from the accident with pins in his leg and his head intact.