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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