Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ him, but she’d gone down that road with very little hesitation when it came right to it.

      “Have I said something?” he asked from behind her.

      She shook her head. “Of course not. But I have a lot of correspondence to get through before the day is over. And you have a conference call in half an hour.”

      “Ah, si, I do.” He sounded tired, and she turned to look at him. He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair.

      Worry pricked her. “You need to rest, Renzo. Nothing good will come of it if you keep burning the candle at both ends.”

      Fatigue lines bracketed his mouth and eyes. “It is always this way before the season starts.”

      “I can’t imagine it’s good for you when you need your strength.”

      “There are a lot of things that aren’t good for me. But they must be done.”

      “But your leg—”

      “I’m fine, cara,” he snapped suddenly.

      Faith gaped at him. It was as if she’d reached out to pet sweet little Lola and been bitten for her trouble. His expression was a mix of rage, bitterness and despair. She knew that he was tired, that he was worried, and that he was angry over the hand fate had dealt him.

      But he would not share any of it with her. He would not tell her how he felt, or how scared he was. It hurt. After all she thought they’d shared together, he would not open up to her now. Instead, he lashed out, pushed her away.

      She was no different to him than Katie Palmer. And that made her angry.

      “I think we both know better,” she said, her heart throbbing. “You might deny it to everyone else, but you aren’t denying it to me.”

      His jaw worked, his eyes flashing with a different kind of heat than they had a moment ago. “Type your letters, Faith,” he said. And then he turned and walked back into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Shutting her out.

      Renzo went back to his desk and collapsed in the chair. He felt like an ass for snapping at Faith. But he’d been feeling edgier than ever lately. He was tired, and his leg throbbed almost nonstop these days. The pain was bearable, but only just.

      Yet he knew if he told her the truth, she’d beg him not to ride the Viper. And he simply did not want to have that conversation with her.

      With anyone.

      Since the night a little over a week ago when they’d stumbled onto the via opposite the Villa de Lucano, he’d been more determined than ever to make the Viper a success. And the only way that was happening was if he kept the reins for a little while longer. His team was good, but a victory didn’t mean as much to them as it did to him.

      He’d thought about pulling out. He really had. But the media expected him to ride. His investors expected him to do so, as well. The whole world was waiting for Renzo D’Angeli, the Iron Prince, to zoom onto the track and claim the ultimate victory for the tenth time. It would be a great feat, and everyone was watching.

      Some were hoping he would fail. Niccolo Gavretti, of course. And quite possibly his father. They had never spoken, but Renzo knew his father followed the sport. He’d even seen the conte in the paddock once before. Backing Gavretti, naturally. The De Lucanos and the Gavrettis were old friends, blue bloods who stuck together in business and in life.

      Renzo tossed down the papers that he’d been trying to concentrate on and leaned back in his chair, propping his leg on a low table that he’d pulled over for the purpose.

      Dio. He rubbed the knotted muscles hard, hoping to ease the pain. He thought of calling Faith, but she was angry with him. Besides, he didn’t want to admit that she’d been right. He couldn’t admit it.

      He slipped open a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. He shook two pills into his hand—and then shook out two more. He had to remain focused on the goal. Everything else was secondary.

      He took the pills, and then picked up the phone and punched in a number. When a familiar voice answered on the third ring, he knew he was doing the right thing. For her, he would win again. For her, he would rub victory in the conte’s face once more.

      “Renzo,” his mother said. “Ciao, darling!”

      They were at the factory late. Renzo rode the Viper again, zooming around the track at speeds Faith was certain were somehow faster than he’d ever ridden before. When he dismounted, there was no hitch in his gate, no weakness that she could detect. He’d had a great few days, though she knew it was only a matter of time before the pain got to be too much for him.

      He kept a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, rationing them out as if they were the last, most precious pills on earth. She admired his strength of will even while she cursed his stubbornness. If he would take them more regularly, or see a doctor, perhaps something could be done. Something that would ensure his safety on the track.

      After he showered and dressed, they drove into Florence where they went to his apartment and changed for the evening. There was another party tonight, another gathering of investors and people who followed the MotoGP circuit. The season would start soon and all the teams would be heading to Qatar for the first race.

      Eighteen races in thirteen countries. It was a grueling circuit, with two or three races each month, plus all the travel that was required to move from country to country. The logistics of it were a nightmare. Now that she knew what Renzo actually did, it was no wonder she’d worked at D’Angeli’s New York factory for months before she’d ever seen him in person.

      She loved being here with him, but she almost wished she’d remained in the financial office of the company. If she had, she wouldn’t be so desperately in love with him now. She wouldn’t be here, praying that every time he took that beast of a motorcycle on the track, he’d make it out alive.

      Faith looked at the dress she’d selected for tonight and felt her heart thump hard. It was more daring than anything she’d yet worn. Black, made of clingy jersey, and figure hugging from the strapless bosom to her ankles. There was a slit up one side that went as high as midthigh.

      She finished her hair and slipped into the dress, then slid her feet into glittery peep-toe platforms. She studied her appearance in the mirror, pleased with the elegant sensuality portrayed before her. Yes, it was a long way from the preacher’s daughter to this, but she was comfortable, confident in the way she looked.

      When she joined Renzo in the foyer, his gaze glided over her approvingly. But then his expression clouded.

      “I’m not sure I want you going out like that, cara.” He kissed her on the cheek and she inhaled his clean, fresh scent, closing her eyes for a brief second as she did so. “You look … too sexy for your own good.”

      Faith reached for her wrap, her pulse thrumming. “Nevertheless, it’s what I’m wearing. I brought nothing else with me.”

      She hadn’t forgotten that he’d dismissed her earlier, though it seemed as if he had. She thought for a minute he might pull her close and kiss her properly, but she was glad he did not. She couldn’t quite bear it right now, when she was fighting with herself over what she meant to his life.

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