‘What does it feel like,’ Matteo asked, remembering the power of his own first come.
‘Better than sex,’ Abby said as he pulled her down, but to the side of him.
He knew how to do her right.
MATTEO WOKE FIRST.
They hadn’t had much sleep.
The fashion show had continued until the early hours and they had pretty much done everything but make love.
Sex.
It felt like more than sex, even if they hadn’t.
Whatever they had done, and they had done plenty, it had been amazing for both—oral sex had never tasted so good and Abby had just spent the last half hour before dawn, on her back, with Matteo’s fingers over hers and, yes, she would sleep easily at night now.
But Abby wanted more than a part-time lover as her first and he respected that.
Matteo didn’t like it but, yes, given that she had waited so long, he understood that she might want a little more than the occasional phone call, or the promise of more when he arrived in Monte Carlo.
The easiest thing now would be to turn off the alarm, cancel the jet, kiss her awake and let her team start to work on dismantling the car, as he set to work on the walls that came between them.
Yet he lay there, staring up at the ceiling and remembering the promise he had made a very long time ago.
Oh, Matteo loved a gamble but as he looked over to where she was waking he knew that the stakes were too high.
He wasn’t going to risk hurting an already damaged heart.
‘You have to go?’ Abby said.
She had woken to the pensive air and guessed he was wondering how to politely kiss and leave.
‘I do,’ Matteo said. ‘And you’ve got a car to dismantle.’
Abby lay listening to Matteo in the shower and she knew she’d been right to hold back.
She didn’t regret what had happened, but it did change things irrevocably.
There was an unfamiliar hollow feeling inside her because what had taken place last night felt very different this morning. There was little closeness now as Matteo came into the bedroom and quickly dressed.
‘If you need anything for Monte Carlo...’
‘We’re pretty much sorted,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Well, if Pedro wants...’
‘He’s going to Rome with Bernadette for a few days,’ Abby interrupted. ‘The team will all be together again five days before the race.’
‘I might not be able to get there until the day or so before.’
‘Or an hour or so before,’ Abby said.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t have to.’
‘I’ll just see what happens with work.’
It was a horrible end to a blissful night. He went to kiss her but she just turned her face away and, in truth, he was relieved she did.
He simply couldn’t go through the motions with Abby, even in that.
Matteo was glad she’d insisted on no sex last night. He’d promised to sleep with her, no strings attached.
For the first time, Matteo wondered if he’d be able to.
It was surely better to stay back.
* * *
He didn’t call.
Abby knew that he wouldn’t. Matteo was a master at setting his boundaries, and that he wouldn’t do relationships was his big one.
Somehow she had to accept that fact.
The circus moved on.
Pedro and Bernadette flew to Rome for some romantic downtime while the rest of the team went straight to Monte Carlo. Usually she’d be there, overseeing the car’s arrival, but Abby had put it off.
There were a lot of bad memories in Monte Carlo; Matteo knew that and yet, still, he did not call.
He wanted to.
Or rather he wanted a life that had existed before April. One where the Lost Mistresses had been just an old tale that his grandfather had told. He wanted the life he had once led back—fast paced, lots of sex, not getting off to a memory.
Matteo was angry.
Every time he thought of calling Abby he would pull up the image of himself and his father coming out of a casino some thirty years apart and, if that wasn’t enough of a reminder, the arrival of an email from Ellison was.
Any progress? Abby has formally declined my invitation.
Good for her, Matteo thought. It was Ellison’s do the Friday after the race and he was tempted to reply to the email with two choice words.
Yet, he was as complicit in the attempt to get her to the function, wearing the necklace, as her father was.
Even Giovanni had called wanting an update and Matteo had been unusually terse with the old man.
Matteo knew that he had to speak properly with his grandfather.
Yes, he was angry.
Abby deserved better—someone who would deliver on the relationship front and, according to his lineage, Matteo never could. Even if by some miracle he could negate that fact, he knew that the moment Abby found out about the origins of his supposed interest in her team, it would end them.
Checkmate.
And so the day she got to Monte Carlo he fired one very rapid text.
Hope preparations are going well. I’ll try to make it for the practice race.
And then he fired another text to Pedro, reminding him what they had discussed, and the best that Matteo could do was hope Pedro would take his request seriously.
Pedro did.
* * *
Abby hated being here.
She woke up and let out a tense breath as she checked her phone and of course Matteo hadn’t called.
Only it wasn’t just Matteo’s imminent arrival that had Abby in knots.
