Matteo,’ Pedro said, ‘that I’ll take him out in the car next time.’
‘I shall.’ She gave Pedro another hug and then she turned and went back to Matteo.
‘Okay, where are we off to?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I do.’ Matteo had just decided. ‘First, though, we’ll swing by my hotel and I’ll get changed.’
‘I need to get changed too.’
He looked down at her oily bottle-green overalls. ‘Absolutely, you do!’
* * *
‘Buy a dress here...’ Matteo suggested as they pulled up at his hotel. ‘There are plenty of boutiques for you to choose from.’
‘No, I bought a dress ages ago and I promised that if we ever got on the podium...’ Abby shook her head. ‘I just never expected it to be tonight.’
She simply couldn’t believe it.
Podium would have been brilliant—it would have shown that they were serious contenders—but to have come first was beyond her wildest dreams!
For others it was a nightmare—the bookies were panicking, the other teams were regrouping. Tonight, only the Boucher team was floating on cloud nine.
As they got out of his car Matteo was about to ask if she wanted to come up and have a drink while he changed but then he decided against it. Now her comment that first day, about their meeting being held in the restaurant rather than his hotel room, made sense.
God, he could kick himself now for the other night but instead he saw her to a seat and gave her a smile.
‘I shan’t be long.’
Abby sat in the lovely foyer as he went and changed and as she did she saw that she had about fifty missed calls, some from her father, and loads of texts offering congratulations. Where had they all been prior to this victory? Abby thought.
She turned her phone off and then she looked up as a man who had been there for her came out of the elevator. He was wearing black pants and a white shirt and dark tie but he was carrying the jacket to his suit, and he’d shaved.
For her.
And she remembered their kiss and her response and there were just too many feelings for Abby to explore right now, and so she chose to just do her best to enjoy the night.
Matteo had ditched his car and they were driven to her hotel and, instead of sitting in the car while she changed, he came into the foyer.
‘My turn to wait,’ he said.
Matteo sat down as she headed off to the elevators but he watched as Abby was called back by the concierge and signed for something and then, a few minutes later, she was handed a parcel and took the elevator up.
Abby stepped into her room.
She was dizzy both from elation at winning and her revelations about Hunter but it was the kiss that had taken place between her and Matteo that had her slightly breathless with recall.
Being kissed by Matteo had been amazing, showing her a side to herself she hadn’t known existed.
Did it even matter, now that she’d told him the truth? That there had been no one before or after Hunter.
She thought about what he said, how Hunter didn’t count, and she liked that. Even if it made her a twenty-seven-year-old virgin.
She took the dress out of her wardrobe and, given today’s events, decided that the dress was too much.
Much too much.
It was seductive, provocative and sexy and it was everything Abby had hoped that she might one day be able to be.
Not yet though.
She was scared of her own sexuality, scared that if she dressed up tonight, then somehow Matteo might think she was leading him on.
To nowhere.
Oh, she was messed up, Abby knew.
She opened the package that she had signed for and her teeth ground together as a formal invitation from her father, inviting her to his fundraiser, fell out. It was written on a thick cream card but there was also attached to it a letter, or rather a note.
Abby.
As discussed.
No signature, no kisses, no Love from Dad. Just the reminder that if she wanted money to support her team, then it came with conditions attached.
She didn’t need the money so badly now but her decision not to go was starting to waver. Seeing Matteo and Allegra together, trying to do the right thing by their grandfather, had served as a very poignant reminder as to how far Abby’s own family had fallen apart, particularly since her mother had died.
Abby peeled back the paper to reveal a walnut box and she undid the tiny clasp and the lid sprung open. Her legs folded beneath her and she sat on the bed staring at her mum’s necklace...
With the silver metal, white diamonds and the green of the emeralds, it was, like her mother had been, beautiful. And, Abby thought, holding it up so it caught the late-afternoon sun, it was possibly the most perfect accessory for her dress.
It was like a sign—not that she should attend her father’s function; that decision she would make later—it just felt as if her mother had stopped by to tell her well done.
‘Oh, Mum.’
She thought of Anette, her mother, and how her marriage had been such an unhappy one.
Her father was a cruel, egotistical man and her mother, with all her family and support in France, just hadn’t found it within herself to leave. Anette had known that Hugo would have made her life hell if she did. So she had settled for a quieter version of hell—a marriage for the sake of the children.
Abby had loved her mother so very much.
She still did.
Had she been alive, Abby knew that what had happened with Hunter would have been handled differently. Oh, Anette had been weak where her father was concerned but not when it came to her girls.
Wear the dress, Abby.
She could almost hear her mother’s voice.
Be who you are, not who others dictate that you be.
Abby could hear her mother’s voice now.
She had been fifteen when her mother had died but now she remembered a long conversation they had had and her mother’s advice.
It hadn’t made sense; even in her darkest days, Abby hadn’t been able to unravel her mother’s words. Abby had tried to be herself and speak her mind and look where that had got her.
At
