Читать книгу Modern Romance July 2016 Books 1-4 - Кэтти Уильямс, Miranda Lee, Cathy Williams - Страница 12
ОглавлениеABBY DIDN’T SLEEP WELL.
Yes, their conversation last night about money should have reassured her but Abby knew that she’d lied to Matteo.
They didn’t really have a hope of making fifth place.
But they had to though.
Not just for the chance of Matteo investing in them.
Her breakfast was delivered and Abby decided to eat it in bed and, as she did, she took out her laptop and read the news.
The sports news, of course.
The Boucher team barely got a mention.
The Carter team were on form, she read, and the Lachance team got plenty of mentions too.
Or rather Hunter did.
She looked at him, dressed in his familiar yellow leather and wearing that cocky, arrogant smile, and if there was such a thing as pure hate, then Abby felt that now.
She wasn’t scared of him any more.
It had been nine years since that terrible night and now, instead of scared, she was angry.
And it was such an undiluted, white-hot anger that ravaged her that it required revenge.
Hunter was thirty-four now and, to date, the Henley cup had been his for nine of the past ten years.
The one year that he had lost it had been the night that Abby had chosen to end their brief relationship.
Foolish timing perhaps but she had arrived in Monte Carlo and had sat in a hotel room, knowing their time together had ended.
They had only been going out for four weeks but Hunter wanted to move things along.
He’d invited her to Monte Carlo.
There would be separate hotel rooms, Hunter had assured her, given he needed his space before a race, but Abby knew very well what was going to come after.
She had gone on the pill but even as she had flown there, Abby had known that the nerves she felt weren’t the ones you should be feeling when you were about to lose your virginity.
Hunter made her feel nervous, in a way that she couldn’t quite define.
It had been cars that that had drawn them together at first but it hadn’t taken long to realise he didn’t want a discussion.
Hunter talked and she was supposed to listen.
Everything she had said about cars he had dismissed.
Oh, at eighteen, who wouldn’t be flattered to be going out with a star and to be picked up and whisked off to Monte Carlo in his private jet?
Only the gloss had already worn off by then.
Abby hadn’t wanted to go but her father had been appalled when she’d suggested cancelling.
Hunter’s jet was already on the way!
And so, Abby had gone. She had had a few drinks for courage during the race and then back at the hotel, as Hunter had faced the press after his surprise loss, Abby had had a couple more.
He had phoned and said that he was back at the hotel and Abby had taken the elevator up to Hunter’s room to tell him that no, she didn’t want to go out tonight and neither did she want to stay in.
In fact, Abby had already booked a ticket and was flying home to New York that night.
As her father had later pointed out—you don’t tell a man who has just lost a cup that you’re breaking up with him.
So what? Abby had thought at the time.
She hadn’t wanted to sleep with him and if she’d stayed, then she knew how the night was expected to end. Abby didn’t want her first to be Hunter; it had been as simple as that.
And, her father had also added, Hunter’s lawyers would make mincemeat out of her, given that she’d gone to his hotel room after all.
Drunk.
‘Not drunk, Dad, I was just...’ But then she had stopped trying to describe how she had felt that night as she’d knocked on his hotel door.
Abby couldn’t really remember how she had felt before it happened.
She simply couldn’t remember who the woman was that had stepped into a man’s hotel suite and expected to be able to speak her mind.
Which she had.
They were over, Abby had told him.
‘Not quite,’ Hunter said.
She hadn’t fought enough, according to her father.
There wasn’t a scratch on Hunter after all.
Abby had frozen when first he had grabbed her and then she had tried to run but had only made it a few steps across his suite and he had pushed her into the bathroom.
And when it was over, when she lay on a cold bathroom floor and thought she could not be more broken both inside or out, Hunter had stood and then urinated over her.
Just to be sure.
Absolutely he had broken her.
Not now.
‘I’ll take that cup from you,’ Abby vowed and spoke to the screen. ‘You’ll go out the loser you really are.’
Matteo was right: it was all about mind games.
Today Hunter and the other teams would find out that Matteo Di Sione was considering coming on board.
And that would rattle them.
The Di Sione empire was amazing—from shipping, to apps, to computers, they had their hand in everything and had money everywhere.
Matteo was right again: she needed to ooze confidence, not dread.
Maybe now was not the time to be spending money on clothes when she was worried about the hotel bill but there were slim pickings in her wardrobe.
There was a dress that might have been handy for dinner yesterday but wasn’t suitable for a gala event.
And then there was the dress that Abby had sworn she would wear if they ever made it to the podium.
It was sexy; it was the colour of tarnished silver with a slight green hue and just way too much for today.
Truth be known, Abby could never see herself having the confidence to wear it—wherever they placed.
She knew that she would have to buy something for today.
Abby signed into her bank account and blinked when she saw the balance.
Oh, my God!
Matteo had meant what he said about ensuring they had every chance of winning.
Nervous, excited and more than a little bit relieved, instead of quickly dressing and hitting the shops Abby dealt with serious business first and rang down to Reception. Having made the necessary arrangements, she called Pedro.
‘Hi,’ Abby said when he picked up.
‘Abby, I don’t have time to talk.’ Pedro’s tone was clipped. ‘I am just going down to the pool and then I’m hitting the gym.’
‘About that,’ Abby said. ‘Pedro, I’ve just spoken with Reception and you’re being moved to a suite with its own lap pool and gym.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I am. Someone’s already on their way to move your things.’
‘Abby, thanks,’ Pedro said. ‘This will really help with my training.’
‘Good.’
It seemed like an unnecessary luxury, but Abby knew that it wasn’t. The facilities in Dubai were stunning and she knew only too well that the other top teams would be utilizing them. Pedro would be out running in the midday heat. He would do everything he could to get his body prepared for the race and so it was very nice to be able to give him this.
Now she could concentrate on getting ready for today.
The shopping in Dubai was supposed to be amazing too but Abby really didn’t have the time or the inclination to explore. There were, though, some boutiques on the ground floor of the hotel and one had caught her eye when they checked in.
It wasn’t one of the famous international designers; instead it was a niche boutique from a local designer and tentatively Abby stepped inside.
The dresses were exquisite and, when the assistant found out where she was going today, she took Abby under her wing.
Abby had studied fashion for a year; she could mentally dress anyone so long as it wasn’t herself. Even though she had been pushed into it by her father, Abby had vaguely enjoyed it and knew what she liked—and understated was it!
‘This one,’ the assistant said, holding up a dress in pale coral. It was a very sheer fabric with a slip dress beneath and it was very feminine and floaty and really not the sort of thing Abby would choose.
‘What about this,’ Abby suggested and held up a similar dress in grey, but the assistant shook her head.
‘Try the coral one on.’
Oh, Abby hated this.
It felt as if she was dressing up for a family photo, she thought as she stepped into a large changing room. But reminding herself it was business, she put the dress on.
‘You look very elegant,’ the assistant said after she had asked Abby if she could see it on.
‘It’s a bit much.’ Abby shook her head, thinking of it with high heels, but the assistant was far more used to this type of thing and disappeared.
‘Try these,’ she said when she returned and handed Abby a pair of flat strappy sandals. They were thin jewelled straps and yet somehow very neutral, and when she tried them on the assistant was right—the dress looked more sophisticated than it would with high heels.
‘I like it,’ Abby admitted.
‘You need to get your hair smoothed out and then tied back,’ the assistant said and, remembering Matteo’s comments last night, Abby wondered if people in Dubai just spoke their mind.
‘I really don’t have time to get my hair done,’ Abby said, given that it was well after nine.
‘I can ring over to the salon,’ the assistant pushed, ‘if you are pressed for time.’
‘Sure.’ Abby gave a tight smile as she paid.
She then went into the hairdresser’s and had her hair smoothed and there she bought a lipstick that would go better with the dress.
Abby didn’t have time to be nervous; she was far too late for Matteo for that. But even so, she managed to be as she stepped into his hotel and saw him waiting in the foyer.
‘Wow!’ he said. ‘You’re worth the wait.’
Somehow he both welcomed her and told her off for keeping him waiting.
‘We need to get going,’ Matteo said.
He really had no idea of the effort she had gone to in order to get her looking like this and Abby kind of liked that about him.
Still, she wasn’t so much nervous as they walked to the car; rather she was incredibly aware, not of her unfamiliar attire, more of the man she was with.
Very, very aware.
That was the best way she could describe it.
She was aware of the dry warmth of his hand on her arm as he led her to the waiting car.
And aware of him as he stretched out beside her and then popped a couple of painkillers and took them without water.
‘Do you have a headache?’ Abby asked, guessing he must have hit the clubs after he had dropped her off last night.
‘My shoulder,’ Matteo said.
‘You should have worn the sling.’
‘I know.’ He just shrugged and obviously it hurt to do so because he winced, but then he turned the conversation to work as the car moved through the magnificent streets. ‘How’s Pedro?’
‘He’s being moved to a better suite as we speak,’ Abby said. ‘He’s much happier than he was this time yesterday.’
‘And if Pedro’s happy, we’re all happy.’
‘Thank you,’ Abby said. ‘Whether or not it makes a difference...’
‘Oh, it will make a difference,’ Matteo interrupted but then he saw the anxious dart of her eyes and guessed she was worrying what would happen if they didn’t place fifth. ‘Just enjoy the buildup to the race,’ Matteo said. ‘We’ll see what happens on race day and then we’ll speak after.’
The charity gala that his sister had organised was a huge event and must have taken a lot of work to plan.
There were beautiful people everywhere and no, Abby didn’t feel overdressed now; in fact, she was very relieved that she hadn’t gone for grey.
It was just such a beautiful summery day and they headed off to find his sister.
‘What’s she like?’ Abby asked.
‘Who, Allegra?’ Matteo checked and rolled his eyes. ‘She’s a goody-two-shoes. Don’t mention to her that I’ve hurt my shoulder.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’ll worry,’ Matteo said. ‘There she is.’
He called out and waved with his good arm, and an attractive woman came over and they greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek. ‘This is Abby,’ Matteo said. ‘My latest venture.’
‘Matteo,’ Allegra scolded.
‘Business venture.’ Matteo grinned. ‘How are you?’
‘Busy,’ Allegra admitted. ‘What have you done to your eye?’
‘I just knocked into a door.’
‘I don’t believe you for a moment,’ Allegra said. ‘And I can’t believe you’ve been here for more than a week and I haven’t seen you.’
‘Well, you had this to arrange.’
‘It’s been crazy...’ Allegra admitted but didn’t finish her sentence—someone was calling out to her and she gave Matteo and Abby an apologetic smile. ‘I really would love to stop and speak but I think it’s going to have to be later.’
‘Allegra,’ Matteo said. ‘I need to speak to you about Grandfather.’
‘Now?’
He nodded and Abby saw that his expression was completely serious. ‘He’s not doing too well.’
‘I know that,’ Allegra said. ‘Bianca and I have already spoken to him.’
‘I think you need to take some time and go and see him,’ Matteo said. Allegra closed her eyes and it was clear that she was upset.
‘I know he’s not well but...’
‘Come on,’ Matteo said to his sister and he took her by the elbow. ‘I won’t be a moment,’ he said to Abby as he led Allegra somewhere a little more private. Abby tried not to watch but she glanced over once and saw Allegra put her hand on Matteo’s shoulder and give it a squeeze.
His sore shoulder.
Oh, poor Matteo!
He didn’t wince; Matteo just took Allegra’s hand from his shoulder and gently let it go.
They were far from gushing with each other but Abby could tell, even from this distance, that they cared about what was being discussed.
It was so different from her family.
Annabel and Abby could go months without so much as a brief catch-up, and as for Abby and her father...
Maybe she should make the effort, Abby thought.
Yes, he had hurt her a lot when she had told him about Hunter’s attack but, trying to be fair to her father, though he hadn’t handled it well, maybe he had been grieving.
Never more than at that time had Abby wanted her mother, but she had been dead for three years by then.
Perhaps it was time to try and be family again?
She jumped a little as Matteo came back to her side.
‘Sorry about that,’ Matteo said. ‘Allegra already knows that my grandfather is ill but I don’t think she knew just how bad things have got.’
‘Is he very sick?’
Matteo nodded and for a moment, just a brief moment, he looked at Abby and wondered if he could tell her about the necklace and the real reason that he had made contact.
It almost felt as if he could.
But then he remembered the brittle woman he had met yesterday and decided that no, it was far too risky to chance it.
He was here for the team; he really was. There was no need to confuse things by bringing up the necklace just yet.
All that could wait.
‘Come on...’ Matteo said.
‘Where?’
‘To the sky.’
There were helicopter rides and he took her on one, and Abby, who apart from the racetrack had only seen one restaurant and one boutique during her time in Dubai, was treated to a bird’s-eye view.
Over the artificial Palm Islands they flew and Abby had never seen anything more stunning. And she also saw where Matteo had suggested they go to dinner. The city seemed to glitter gold and silver and they flew, too, over the racetrack where the first leg of the Henley Cup would be held.
This time next week, she’d be down there, Abby thought with a flurry of both nerves and excitement.
They stepped off the helicopter and Abby took a moment more than Matteo did to find her land legs.
‘It makes you dizzy, doesn’t it,’ Matteo said. ‘Let’s go and find something to eat.’
They didn’t have to look very far; there was plenty to choose from, and though they had lunch it was a quick one because, as Matteo leafed through a glossy program, he decided that he wanted to look at the racehorses that were being paraded.
‘Oh, look at that one...’ Abby said. It was a stunning, white, purebred Arabian stallion, so highly strung that he looked as if at any moment he might take off.
‘Bastard!’ Matteo said but didn’t get a chance to explain as someone tapped him on his shoulder.
The sore one.
‘Kedah!’ Matteo grinned as he turned around and saw who it was and he introduced them both. ‘Abby, this is Kedah. We studied briefly together in New York.’
‘Until you dropped out.’
‘I’m still standing,’ Matteo said. ‘And this is Abby, owner and manager of the Boucher racing team.’
‘It is very nice to meet you,’ Sheikh Kedah said. He was incredibly handsome, Abby thought. He was beautifully presented, dressed in a robe of pale gold with a keffiyah tied and skilfully draped but he had that same wild gleam in his eye as Matteo and they made an extremely good-looking pair. Abby could only imagine the sort of trouble these two got into. ‘Your driver did well here last year. Fifth, if I remember rightly?’
Abby nodded, surprised that he knew and pleasantly surprised also that Kedah didn’t mention that, after that race, Pedro had gone on to place nowhere.
Kedah turned to Matteo. ‘How is the shoulder?’
‘Still sore.’ Matteo smiled. ‘Black and blue...’
‘The doctor said you would bruise.’ Kedah nodded. ‘So do you still want him even after he threw you?’
‘Absolutely,’ Matteo said and then looked back to the stallion. ‘Abby and I were just admiring him.’
At ten minutes to three, two thoughts hit and both unsettled her.
That the horse Matteo had fallen off was a thoroughbred racehorse. What the hell would have possessed him to be riding that?
But she couldn’t dwell on it because another thought was invading.
She wanted to see his shoulder.
Abby, who just pushed down all thoughts of sex, who actually felt sick at the thought of intimacy, suddenly wanted to go back to the hotel and peel off his shirt and touch that bruised skin.
With her mouth.
‘Are you okay?’ Matteo checked, picking up on the sudden tension in her.
‘Sorry?’
‘Kedah was just saying he’d love to come to the race...’
‘Oh!’
‘We’re not allowed to talk to Abby on race day though,’ Matteo warned him.
‘I’d love to be there,’ Kedah said to Abby and then addressed Matteo. ‘If the Boucher team make the podium, you get the horse,’ the sheikh said and they shook hands.
‘Do you bet on everything?’ Abby asked when Kedah had gone.
‘Not everything,’ Matteo said and then he met her eyes and again stopped what he was about to say.
He’d never have put money on enjoying today.
Usually, often, always, he’d be bored by now and would have run out of things to say.
Usually, often, always, he’d be glancing at his phone and wondering if they went back to the hotel now and slept together, then he could drop her back and hit the town with Kedah.
Usually, often, always, he’d have said hi to his sister, stayed for half an hour and then said goodbye.
Instead today felt like the best of days and there was but one reason why.
‘What the hell were you doing riding him?’ Abby asked, tearing her eyes from his gaze and looking back to the magnificent stallion. ‘Do you ride?’
‘Not really,’ Matteo admitted.
‘When you say “not really...”?’ Abby checked.
‘No.’
‘You could have been killed,’ Abby said and she was far from joking. This beast would test the limits of the most experienced rider. ‘Why would you take such a risk?’
‘Do you say the same to Pedro when he stands on the gas?’
‘Pedro’s skilled and trained,’ Abby retorted. ‘You’re a bit tall to be a jockey.’
Her cheeks were that lovely shade of turned-on pink, Matteo thought, and he was quite sure that it had nothing to do with the sun.
He wanted to turn her around and speak into her ear and put on a high voice, just to make her laugh as he told her what a fabulous jockey he was. And then Matteo wanted to be warned that public displays of affection could not happen here.
And then...
‘Come on,’ Matteo said. ‘The fashion show’s starting. You used...’ He faltered; it had been her father who had told him that she’d once studied fashion.
‘Used to what?’
‘I thought I read somewhere that you used to study fashion?’
‘I did,’ Abby said. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘I can’t remember.’ Matteo shrugged. ‘I must have come across it when I was researching the team.’
He’d lied.
Matteo sat there beside her and he knew he’d lied, only not in the same way that he had to his sister—that had been about protecting Allegra, this had been about protecting himself.
It didn’t matter, Matteo told himself.
He and Abby weren’t going anywhere.
Even if they slept together, and from the heat between them that was becoming increasingly likely, he knew that they wouldn’t last.
Matteo meant it—he would never get close to another.
Abby didn’t notice the silence. It was actually so nice to be away from cars and she had never felt like that. Cars were both her work and her hobby but it was just nice to take a day off, but more than that, she knew it was because of Matteo.
They watched the fashion show and every second model who walked out onto the runway Matteo said, ‘You’d look good in that.’
And then out came the underwear and he made no comment.
Not one.
They were both trying so hard to behave and, for Abby, to even have to try to behave was a revelation.
Finally, with the fashion show over they decided to call it a day.
‘I just want to say goodbye to Allegra...’
‘Go,’ Abby said.
‘Thanks.’
He appreciated it.
She wasn’t needy and he liked that.
He liked her.
As they sat in the car on the way back to her hotel, he handed her his phone and Abby looked at a photo of the two of them, both laughing as they sat watching the fashion show.
Neither with a care in the world, it would seem.
Business or Romance? the headline said.
‘Oh, no,’ Abby wailed. ‘Why would they jump to that?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Matteo shrugged.
‘But we want them to think...’
‘Oh, they’ll be thinking,’ he said.
The car pulled up at her hotel and Abby wondered if he’d suggest dinner and she wondered if she might accept.
But Matteo, being Matteo, skipped entrée, main and dessert and, after such a lovely day, for him the ending was inevitable.
‘We could,’ Matteo said, ‘always go to mine.’
That delicious mouth moved in for the kill and what startled Abby the most was that she wanted to accept, to just close her eyes and give in to the bliss he offered, except she jerked her head back.
‘I’m assuming we’re not talking about the restaurant at your hotel?’
‘We’re not.’
For Matteo sex was as straightforward and as simple as that.
‘What happened to keeping it strictly business?’ Abby asked.
‘I can juggle both.’
He looked into green eyes that had been relaxed and smiling all day but now had turned to sleet.
‘I’ll see you on race day.’ Abby’s voice was tart—he could feel her anger and indignation emanating—and Matteo, who only ever played with the willing, leant back. ‘If you’re still interested, that is.’ She didn’t wait for the driver to open the door for her; instead she got out and slammed the door shut.
You’re not here to seduce, Matteo reminded himself as the driver took his rarely rejected passenger back to his hotel.
Matteo never misread signs.
Today the two of them had blasted a heat to rival a Dubai sun.
It was better this way, he conceded as he climbed out of the car and headed to his luxury suite.
If ever he’d been glad that he hadn’t told Abby about the origins of them, then it was now, because he was seriously interested in the Boucher team.
And, far more worryingly for Matteo, he was also seriously interested in Abby herself.
Which was, for a die-hard bachelor, very troubling indeed.
He was now terribly glad that Abby had said no.
