Billionaires: The Playboy. Carol Marinelli
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something to eat.’
She said something then but it was drowned out by the roar of a car and he couldn’t make out the words.
He just watched her mouth.
‘I can’t hear you,’ Matteo said and she had to watch his mouth now. ‘Dinner?’ he suggested. Finally there was a lull in the noise and he said it again. ‘Dinner?’
‘Here?’ Abby checked and Matteo looked around. The race wasn’t till next week and so the corporate caterers weren’t here yet.
‘Well, I’d prefer a nice lazy meal back at my eight-star hotel but if you insist on here, then I guess it will have to do. Do they have hot dogs in Dubai?’
Abby nodded to a van. ‘Not hot dogs exactly...’ She took a breath; they were about to talk big business and a takeaway back in the shed really wouldn’t cut it. ‘When you say your hotel...’ She saw him frown, but no, she would make very sure where they would be eating before she agreed to go back to his hotel. ‘You do mean the restaurant?’
‘What the hell did you think I meant?’ Matteo grinned. ‘Of course I meant the restaurant. Don’t believe everything you read about me, Abby—I’m fast but not that fast.’
She laughed.
Matteo had no idea what a rare sound that was.
‘Do you want to meet there?’ he suggested, assuming she had a car.
‘Sure,’ she agreed, and he told her the name of the hotel he was staying at. ‘I’ll just get changed,’ she said, but aware of all she had in her locker she was factoring in a dash back to her own hotel too.
‘Please...’ He stopped abruptly. Matteo had been about to say, ‘Please don’t.’ She looked amazing in the Boucher green leather after all, but there was something that stopped him and he quickly changed his plea. ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you there on the hour.’
Abby felt her cheeks go a little pink again.
‘Is it okay if I have a look around before I head off?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
One of the mechanics who was peeling a pear offered Matteo half and, when he took it, offered to show him around. It was actually fascinating. There was a whole wall of tyres that would see them through just one race and the science of it all was something Matteo had never considered.
Abby took her time to get ready. Given Matteo had said that they were meeting on the hour there really was no time to go back to her hotel and change. Also, she was incredibly nervous. Oh, she had sat through her share of dinners and lunches, of course, just not with someone as gorgeous as he, and not with someone who made her smile.
Yes, she knew that she came across as brittle at times, but she had been particularly awful to him.
She forgave herself then.
After all, she knew why.
So, what to wear to dinner at an eight-star hotel with a stunning man when you have neither the time nor inclination for a dress but all you have in your locker is a pair of ill-fitting jeans, a massive black T-shirt and flat sandals?
She suppressed a smile because she had known exactly what Matteo had been about to say regarding her leather suit. That was why her cheeks had gone pink. It had felt a little like flirting and Abby wasn’t in the least good at that.
* * *
She put on some dark glasses and ran a comb through her hair. As she left the locker room she took out her phone to call for a taxi and then startled when she saw that Matteo was still there.
‘Sorry, I thought you’d have your own car. Why didn’t you say?’ he asked.
‘I just...’ Abby shrugged.
‘Come on,’ he said and put on his own dark glasses before heading back out in the sun.
What the hell happened there? he thought as they walked to his car. It was as if Abby had done everything possible to look as unattractive as she could. The jeans were massive and as for the T-shirt!
Maybe hot dogs would be a better idea after all.
He glanced down and he didn’t think he’d seen an unpainted female toenail before.
Half an hour spent getting ready, for that!
‘Will they mind jeans at the hotel?’ Abby checked as he drove them there.
‘Not the way you wear them.’ Matteo turned and smiled. ‘You look great.’
Again, she laughed.
‘You are such...’ She just laughed again. ‘I wasn’t expecting to go out for dinner, okay? I do know I’m badly dressed.’
‘For who?’ Matteo shrugged.
He was relaxing to her.
Oh, she was on edge, Abby knew, yet somehow Matteo was relaxing to her.
‘What happened to your eye?’ she asked.
‘I came off a horse,’ he said. ‘That’s how I dislocated my shoulder. I’m supposed to be wearing a shoulder strap.’
‘So, why aren’t you?’
‘I lost it.’
‘Oh.’
He was so incredibly handsome and she felt incredibly drab.
‘I could stop by my hotel and get changed,’ Abby offered, still a little worried that she was way underdressed.
‘No need.’
It was, however, Matteo thought, a seriously nice restaurant they were heading to. Seriously, seriously nice but thankfully he’d been here with the sheikh and had lobbed enough tips these past days that he knew they’d give him a welcome smile as they walked in.
But he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
‘We could go to Majlis Al Bahar...’ Matteo glanced over and he saw her nervous swallow. ‘I’m not getting romantic,’ he reassured, because it was possibly the most romantic restaurant on earth. ‘It’s just that the dress code is more casual and,’ he added, ‘I kind of want to try it.’
‘No,’ Abby said. ‘The hotel’s fine.
So his hotel it was.
‘Table for two,’ Matteo told the maître d’ and such was his confidence that, of course, no one turned a hair and they were shown to their seats.
Her glasses off, those disgusting jeans tucked away, she really was beautiful, Matteo thought. Her eyes were an intense green and thickly lashed and she was the first woman he had ever sat in a restaurant with who wore not a trace of make-up.
He knew what she’d look like in the morning, Matteo thought. Then he reminded himself that he wasn’t here for that and so he looked from Abby and out to the view of the Arabian Gulf. ‘I love it here,’ he admitted. ‘I didn’t expect to, then again I had no real idea what to expect.’
‘I haven’t seen much of it,’ Abby said. ‘We only got here yesterday...’
Matteo was astute enough to frown. ‘So how is Pedro doing with the heat?’
She liked that he understood that it mattered.
‘A few days more to acclimatise would have been nice,’ Abby admitted.
‘Is Pedro as temperamental as the press make out?’ Matteo asked.
‘More so.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t blame him though. He’s an amazing talent.’
‘You’ve given him a very early break,’ Matteo said, remembering that Pedro had just turned twenty-one and had been nineteen when Abby had taken him on. ‘Shouldn’t he still be doing the dinky tracks in