The Billionaire's Legacy Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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I lied,’ Abby admitted and gave up on her losers-are-still-winners approach. ‘Bring it home.’
It was a spectacular race. How could it not be? The scenery was straight from a travel brochure, the weather perfect and the car that Abby loved so took off like a bullet from the chamber and left half the field behind.
They were off.
Matteo juggled cola and binoculars as the cars took to the gorgeous hilly streets and then later wished that he hadn’t had so much cola because, with only five laps to go, and the top five a close pack at that, he had to excuse himself, leaving Pedro in fourth.
Matteo returned to Kedah’s side to be told that Pedro was now third.
The Lachance team and Hunter were first, the Carter team with Evan at the helm in close second.
Matteo glanced over to Abby and saw her concentration as she spoke into her mouthpiece.
Not a stolen glance between them.
And he loved that about her—her drive, her focus—and so he got back to watching the race but, as he did, something happened.
Not on the track.
Well, yes, something happened on the track, because Pedro overtook Evan but, as he did so, hope overtook fear for Matteo.
Just this quiet second in a noisy world where Matteo lost the dread that he never showed, or rather, his fears that he had shown only to one other—Abby.
And if Pedro won, he was going to do it, Matteo told himself.
He was going to somehow put everything right.
‘Come on,’ Matteo shouted and it felt like Pedro must have heard because, just past the final bend, Pedro not just overtook Hunter, he almost blew him off the track.
‘Bring her home!’ Matteo shouted and, yes, now even he was talking about the car as if it were a person.
She won!
It was delicious; it was chaos.
As Hunter tried to right the car, Evan screamed past and the Carter team took second place.
There was music and champagne and the cup held high and it was all just a gorgeous blur until it was time for the press conference.
Abby was trying to locate Pedro and found him talking with one of the organisers and so Hunter and Evan had already taken their places as the victor walked in to applause.
Abby stood to the side and Matteo, in the middle of the room, looked at her unreadable expression and wondered what was going on in her mind as the questions commenced.
‘Congratulations to Pedro,’ Hunter said. ‘He’s an amazing talent. Without him...’
Hunter looked directly at Abby and tried to tell her she was nothing, that were it not for their driver...
And Matteo watched as...no, she didn’t struggle to breathe, and neither did she mouth an obscenity, or do any one of the things that she would be more than entitled to do.
There was more in her armoury than that.
Abby smiled.
For one reason only—she was happy.
And if looks could kill, then a well-timed smile could maim, because after the press conference, to Matteo’s relief, Hunter’s jet took off a lot faster than the Lachance car and finally there was this little moment when it was just Matteo and her.
‘You beat him,’ Matteo said.
‘No.’ Abby shook her head. ‘We won.’
She wanted to better explain the change in her, the changes to her heart that he had helped make—to say that, even if there was no future for them, she would treasure the past for ever, but there wasn’t time to do that now.
‘Hey, Matteo...’ Pedro shouted over. ‘How about it?’
‘How about what?’
‘I just got permission, before they take the barriers down. Do you want that ride now?’
‘Matteo has to head off,’ Abby said, covering for him, as she knew that the very thought of a ride in a racing car made him feel ill, but then, as always, Matteo surprised her.
‘I’d love to, Pedro.’
Matteo suited up and the face that disappeared into the helmet was grey but this was something he wanted—no, needed—to do.
Abby watched as he came out of the shed and her eyes drifted over his leather-clad body just as his had over hers that first day.
‘Is it wrong to say just how much I fancy you now?’ Abby asked.
‘You’re not doing it for me, Abby,’ Matteo said and blew out a breath.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘Oh, but I think that I do.’
He climbed in and took his seat and pulled down the harness and then Pedro did something—he came over and carefully checked Matteo’s helmet and harness before getting in himself.
And therein was the difference.
Pedro was nothing like Matteo’s father.
Pedro was an expert.
He trained for this, slept for this; every morsel that passed his lips was to better himself for this and Pedro kept to the rules.
And so, too, could Matteo.
Matteo wasn’t his father either.
All those thoughts buzzed louder than the engine as Matteo found out firsthand just how fit you had to be to deal with the G-force and heat and demands on the body as the vehicle cornered, as well as that Pedro had to focus.
Yes, it was terrifying but exhilarating and it was one of the best experiences of Matteo’s life, and as he climbed out it was to a world that looked different.
‘I feel like I’ve laid a ghost to rest,’ he admitted to Abby as he took off his helmet.
Abby nodded.
Last night, so, too, had she.
AS MUCH AS he had wanted to stay and join in with the celebrations, Matteo really did need to leave and head back to New York.
Even more so than before now.
With time differences and flying time, it felt odd that it was still Sunday, albeit late in the evening when he drove towards the Di Sione estate.
Giovanni had appointments all week and, if Matteo wanted to speak with him, then it had to be tonight.
Matteo had told Giovanni that he was coming and he knew that the old man would be hoping it was because Matteo had good news for him.
He wondered how his grandfather would take the news.
Alma let him in and said that Giovanni was in the lounge and Matteo thanked her and walked through.
Giovanni was sitting, staring out to the lake, and Matteo knocked on the open door to alert him that he was here.
‘Matteo!’ He turned and gave a smile of delight and went to stand but Matteo waved him down and went over and kissed him on the cheeks.
A pang of guilt hit Matteo when he felt the frail shoulders beneath his hands and saw his grandfather’s tired, lined face.
‘You’ve been busy,’ Giovanni said.
‘Yes, I have to say I like the motor racing world.’
‘I see your team won the cup. I got up early and watched the race.’ Then Giovanni’s face grew serious. ‘It’s