Modern Romance July 2016 Books 1-4. Miranda Lee

      Oh, he waited for way more than half an hour this time.

      He wondered if Abby was having trouble getting into a denim dress and Doc Martens but just as he smiled at that thought the elevators opened and a shining, shy beauty stepped out.

      She was in a dress that was a bruised shade of silver, just one polish away from gleaming, and around her throat was the reason Matteo had first made contact.

      Not now.

      Oh, he watched her walk towards him—too nervous and shy to be sexy. She was utterly gorgeous—and how the hell did he tell her the truth?

      Never had he been more grateful for a goldfish attention span when it suited him. Matteo just dismissed the Lost Mistresses from his mind and dealt with now.

      ‘You look...’ What? Often Matteo stopped himself from saying what he wanted to with Abby; he didn’t tonight. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’

      And he felt the most responsible that he ever had towards another.

      This was her night.

      * * *

      It wasn’t a restaurant like any other that Abby had ever been to.

      White, candlelit tables were set on a private beach. It was an outdoor restaurant that combined fine dining with a sunset that fired as pink as her cheeks as they were shown to their seats.

      ‘Champagne?’ Matteo asked, and it was as if they were starting again.

      Which they were.

      He knew the truth now and, more importantly, Abby felt safe to let down her guard with him. She knew, Abby just knew, that she could strip naked and dance like a banshee and still he would see her safely home.

      ‘That would be lovely.’

      The champagne was poured and the first thing he did was raise a glass.

      ‘To the Boucher team. Well done, you!’

      They ate delectable seafood and their fingers met in the fragrant bowls and they flirted a little but more than that they talked and they celebrated her win.

      ‘Pedro’s happy,’ Matteo said.

      ‘For now.’ Abby nodded. ‘I’ve been watching him for years, since he was about sixteen. I know he’s good and that he’s thrilled with the win but he’s not going to hang around for long and I can’t blame him for that.’

      ‘Is that why it has to be this year that you win the Henley Cup?’

      That being Hunter.

      Abby hesitated and then nodded.

      ‘He retires this year. I want my revenge,’ she admitted. ‘I know it’s supposed to be healthier to forgive...’

      Matteo snorted, which told her what he thought of that!

      ‘You’re going to do it,’ he said. ‘But if not this year, there’s still next. Don’t make your life about him.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Concentrate on keeping Pedro sweet,’ Matteo said. ‘Spoil him. You’ve got winnings now.’

      ‘He placed fifth here last year,’ Abby said. ‘It was our first race and he should have been way back but, like today, something happened. He’s a genius and now everyone really knows it.’ She told Matteo something. ‘The next night, after he placed fifth, he took me out for dinner. He was just twenty then and I’m his manager and yet he got the bill and I knew that I was being served notice. He told me that he’d already been approached by the Lachance team. We came to a deal and I asked for this year, for the Henley Cup.’

      ‘Things are different now,’ Matteo said. ‘He’s part of a winning team and it is a team—a progressive one. The Lachance mob are sticking to the same old formulas. Remind him of that.’

      ‘I shall,’ Abby agreed. ‘Pedro wants to take you for a spin when we get to Milan.’

      ‘No, thank you,’ Matteo said, and Abby raised her eyes in surprise. She had thought, given his daredevil nature, that he would jump at the chance, but he’d shaken his head at the offer.

      ‘Thanks for today.’ Abby addressed what she had to, glad that it was getting darker and so he hopefully couldn’t see that her face was on fire.

      ‘For what?’

      ‘I’ve never had a panic attack before, not a full-blown one. I thought I was going to die.’

      ‘I told you that you wouldn’t.’

      ‘You said that your sister got them?’

      Matteo nodded but said no more.

      ‘I didn’t expect to react like that. I’ve seen him around before, of course.’

      Matteo didn’t like that and he frowned.

      ‘We’re on tour at the same time,’ Abby pointed out. ‘I always make sure that we’re in separate hotels. I only really see him trackside and usually I’m fine. Well, not fine exactly but I’ve never had that happen to me.’

      ‘He was angry today,’ Matteo said. ‘Even if he was trying to hide it.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And I would expect that brought some stuff up for you.’

      ‘I guess,’ Abby said. ‘I hate how he’s messed me up.’

      ‘Messed up?’ Matteo checked. ‘Hardly! Your team just won—you’re coming into your own.’

      ‘You know what I mean.’ She had said way more than she had wanted to today but she had said it—there had been no one since Hunter.

      ‘It’s just a matter of time,’ Matteo said.

      ‘It’s been nine years!’

      He actually grinned. ‘How the hell do you sleep?’ he asked. ‘I need a drink or sex, preferably both.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You’re not frigid. Had there not been one hundred thousand people watching on, I could have had you this afternoon.’

      ‘Exceptional circumstances!’ Abby said.

      He just spoke about it in such a matter-of-fact way that it made the world a bit nicer but she shook her head at the impossibility. ‘He seriously messed with my head.’

      ‘We’re all messed up, Abby.’

      ‘You’re not.’

      ‘Of course I am. My whole family are.’

      ‘Because your parents died?’ Abby asked.

      ‘Because of how they lived.’

      It was Abby who didn’t know what to say now.

      Matteo never opened up to anyone. He could talk for hours and still reveal little about himself but with all she had told him today, well, it seemed wrong to hold back. He looked at her, so stunning on the outside and so churned up within, and it felt unfair to let her think that the polished, carefree man who sat before her didn’t have dark memories of his own.

      ‘Do you know why I said no to Pedro taking me for a spin?’

      She shook her head.

      ‘Because the thought of having someone drive me around at high speed makes me ill.’

      ‘But riding a thoroughbred racehorse doesn’t?’ Abby frowned.

      ‘When I was five my father woke me up in the middle of the night. Now, when I look back, he was high on cocaine but I didn’t know about drugs then. I just knew there were times we avoided him and that this was one of those times. He’d won a car.’ Matteo sat there for a moment and remembered his bewilderment at being woken up. ‘We had loads of cars, but no, he had to show me this one. He took me