Billionaires: The Playboy. Carol Marinelli

him like a star, then,’ Matteo said. ‘Make him never want to leave.’ He saw the set of her lips. ‘What’s his latest gripe?’ he asked and her mouth relaxed into a soft laugh at his perception.

      ‘Well, some of the other drivers have suites with their own gym and lap pool.’ She looked at Matteo, who said nothing. ‘These guys are incredibly fit. You have to be to race at that speed. I know how taxing it is just doing a few gentle laps.’

      ‘It didn’t look particularly gentle to me,’ Matteo said. ‘So, what’s it like?’ he asked. ‘Driving one?’

      And she knew the line the guys used but that would really tip her into flirting with him.

      ‘It’s amazing,’ she said, instead of saying that it was better than sex.

      It had to be.

      Her one experience had been hell after all.

      No, she would not be flirting.

      ‘Pedro doesn’t like using the hotel pool and gym,’ Abby said. ‘And I get that, I do, but...’ She loathed talking about money, but that was what they were here to do. ‘Our budget’s tight.’

      ‘And Pedro doesn’t want to hear that?’

      ‘He’s been really good,’ Abby said. ‘They all have been. It’s hard watching the others swan off to fancy restaurants when we’re heading for the burger bar. We all want better things and know that we have to work for it. It’s just hard juggling egos. And also I know that Pedro’s right—he’d do better with more resources and I’d do better if I had more time to focus on the car and the opposition.’

      ‘Instead of playing bookkeeper?’ Matteo asked and she gave a low laugh.

      ‘And PA, and travel agent...’

      ‘I get it.’

      How could he? ‘How come you want to invest?’ she asked him.

      ‘Well, I think you’re going places,’ Matteo said. ‘And I want to be securely on board when you do. I have a thing for outside chances.’ He looked at the wine menu. ‘What are we drinking?’ Matteo asked.

      ‘Water for me...’

      ‘You’re a cheap date.’

      ‘This isn’t a date, Matteo,’ she said.

      ‘Actually, no, it isn’t.’ He put down the menu and was serious. He was interested in sponsoring the team. Seriously so. Matteo was a gambler by nature but this was a huge one. He wasn’t thinking about the necklace or her father now. Matteo’s head was in the game and if he was going to be a sponsor, then there had to be rules. ‘My relationships run into hours rather than days. Believe me, you don’t want to know...’

      ‘I already do!’ she said.

      ‘Which means, if we want this to work, then it’s hands off each other.’

      ‘I’m good with that,’ she said.

      ‘Anyway,’ Matteo added, ‘I don’t date.’

      ‘And I don’t drink.’

      ‘At all?’

      ‘Nope.’ She shook her head.

      ‘Ever?’

      ‘Never.’ She smiled at his curiosity. ‘Well, I tried it and didn’t like it.’

      ‘Okay, water for two it is.’

      ‘You can.’

      ‘I know that I can,’ Matteo said, ‘but I’m keeping my wits about me with you.’

      He looked at the menu and groaned. ‘Truffle-crusted scallops—I know what I’m having.’

      His groan made her stomach tighten; the low sound of his want caused her breath to hold in her throat, and then he looked up.

      His eyes were the darkest navy and when he smiled so, too, did she.

      ‘That’s better,’ Matteo said.

      He was nice, her heart said.

      Just that.

      The food was amazing and the company too, and he really did take her concerns seriously.

      ‘I had a sponsor last year, not a particularly generous one,’ Abby explained. ‘He rang all the time, wanted constant progress reports. Race day was hell. He wanted me to join him and his cronies for a champagne brunch and Pedro to be sociable...’

      ‘Look, I get you don’t want someone sticking their nose in and I can manage lunch by myself. And, for what it’s worth, I won’t be putting pressure on you or your team. I wouldn’t expect much this year...’

      ‘Oh, no,’ Abby interrupted. ‘We’re winning the Henley Cup this year.’

      ‘I’m just saying that I’m patient.’

      ‘Pedro will be off soon,’ Abby said. ‘He’s a rising star and someone will make an offer that I can’t match any day soon.’

      ‘Probably.’ Matteo nodded. He’d thought the same but now he could really see the problem. ‘Hunter’s retiring at the end of this year and I guess the Lachance team...’ He paused, remembering that Abby had briefly dated him. ‘Hey, didn’t you two...?’

      ‘We’re winning this year,’ Abby said, not answering the question. ‘I want the Henley Cup—Dubai first, then Italy, then Monte Carlo.’

      ‘Then you need to keep your driver happy,’ Matteo said. ‘How tight is it?’ he asked.

      No one knew just how bad it was and Abby was extremely reluctant to tell him.

      Matteo watched as she fiddled with her glass. ‘The only thing I want in a relationship is honesty,’ he said and then he started to laugh. ‘I only get to use that line in business.’

      Even Abby laughed.

      ‘So, how about we be honest with each other? Whatever you tell me goes no further than here, whatever we then decide.’

      She believed him. And, Abby thought, maybe it would be a relief to tell someone the truth.

      No one knew just how bad it was.

      Her team all thought she was particularly tense; they didn’t know that she was waking up in dread every night. Abby was even considering agreeing to her father’s ridiculous bribe to go along to his fundraiser just for the injection of cash he had promised if she did.

      The very thought of that made her sick.

      She wondered if the photograph of her and Hunter still hung on her father’s study wall.

      Abby closed her eyes for a second, as panic briefly hit.

      No, she would not be going cap in hand to her father.

      She opened her eyes to Matteo’s waiting ones and decided to tell him the truth.

      ‘I can’t get us to Italy.’

      Matteo said nothing.

      ‘I’ve got the car and equipment covered but I can’t get the team there.’

      ‘The money’s run out?’

      Abby nodded.

      He didn’t get up and walk off and he didn’t berate.

      He just sat there.

      Thinking.

      Then he gave in on water and called for a large cognac.

      And still he sat there thinking.

      Not about the necklace that he was supposed to be here for; instead he was thinking about cars and a team and it gave him a buzz that had been missing at the casino of late. He didn’t like motor racing. Fast cars were the only vice he didn’t