The Billionaires Collection

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 a go-kart?’

Abby smiled but it was a guarded one. ‘He’s going to be amazing—he already is.’

He saw her tight smile and read it.

Someone with a far bigger cash pot would snap him up very soon.

‘Treat 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 have. There were too many painful memories attached.

Yet, he was starting to come around.

Watching Abby and later Pedro putting the car through its paces, speaking with the mechanics, gauging the opposition...

There was an attraction to the sport that Matteo had never anticipated when he had taken the challenge on.

He asked for figures and she went red in the neck but told him, and she watched as he crunched a few numbers on a calculator.

Not his phone, she noted.

And it wasn’t a two-dollar calculator either.

He had beautiful hands, Abby thought, and she liked the way his tongue popped out as he concentrated.

Matteo knew he should conclude this meeting now. The type of money that was required here outweighed the necklace and there was practically a guarantee of zero return.

‘Why do you think you’re a chance?’ he asked.

‘I built the car,’ Abby said. ‘I have the most fearless driver I’ve ever seen. Pedro’s a bit raw but that’s good. He’s unpredictable. No one except for me—actually, not even me—knows what he’s capable of...’

Still Matteo looked.

‘But he needs the right tool and my car is that.’

Still he looked. His face gave away nothing, Abby thought, but he had demanded honesty and if that was the case there was something rather large that she was leaving out.

‘And I’ve been waiting nine years for this.’

She didn’t tell him why; she just told him that she had.

He saw something then and its name was determination.

No, the numbers might not add up but the feeling in his gut tipped the scale.

‘Tell you what,’ Matteo finally said and Abby found she was holding her breath. ‘If you can come in in the top five here in Dubai, then I’ll take care of getting the team to Italy.’

‘Will you be staying to watch?’

‘God, yes,’ Matteo said. ‘And sorry if you don’t like it but if you do place, then I’ll be in Italy too. Don’t worry though. I shan’t be breathing down your neck.’

And for the first time, possibly ever, Abby imagined just that—a man breathing down her neck, or even on her neck...

Not just any man.

Him.

He expected her to backtrack, to maybe push for a lower place, but instead she looked straight back at him.

‘We’re going to do better than fifth.’

He really, really hoped so.

And so, too, did she.

‘Right,’ Matteo said and called for the bill and then he asked for her bank details.

‘We haven’t placed yet.’

‘I’m just making sure that you do.’

He paid and then asked for a driver to take her back to her hotel. ‘My sister Allegra has got a big charity event tomorrow. I think we should go.’

‘You said...’ Abby started but Matteo overrode her.

‘Everyone will be there, including the press. It might rattle the opposition if they think you’ve got a Di Sione on board.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Mind games.’

Oh, it would seriously rattle the opposition and Abby would take any edge that she could get.

She thought of Hunter and that terrible night and she had to beat him this year.

It was her only chance for revenge.

‘Abby, you need to ooze confidence,’ Matteo said. ‘Doesn’t matter how you feel on the inside.’

‘Please.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s easy for you...’

‘You don’t know me,’ Matteo interrupted. ‘But believe me when I say, never let them smell fear.’

She nodded.

‘So will you come?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ Matteo said. ‘After tomorrow I’ll leave you alone to do your thing. If I send a car for you at ten would that be okay?’

‘There’s no need for that. I’ll meet you here.’

‘Sure.’

When her car arrived it was Matteo, rather than the driver, who opened the door for her, and they spoke for a moment before she got in.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said and she nodded and then he shook her hand. ‘And you need to dress up.’

‘Excuse me?’ she flared.

‘I don’t care what you wear in your down time,’ Matteo said. ‘But if you want to wear the Di Sione name on your car and your overalls, then you have to look the part when we’re out.’

‘And I thought brunch on race day was an imposition...’ She was about to tell him to get stuffed but not only couldn’t Abby afford to, she didn’t want to either. He was right; if her team were going to get anywhere, then maybe it was time to play the corporate game a touch and maybe she could do that with him.

He hadn’t turned a hair at her jeans; he had made her feel relaxed and comfortable as she had told him the terrible mess she was in.

‘Tomorrow is work,’ he said as Abby climbed into the car but then, just before he closed the door, he gave her that smile. ‘Not that we can’t enjoy ourselves while working.’

The car drove off and Abby found her heart was thumping. They had very carefully laid the ground rules at the table—they were completely hands off, she knew that.

Matteo’s inference had been that they would simply enjoy provoking the press and the opposition.

It was her own imagination that was for the first time, if not exactly running wild, then peeking out and blinking at the sun.

A dark sun named Matteo Di Sione.

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