Billionaires: The Playboy

‘Sure,’ she agreed, and he told her the name of the hotel he was staying at. ‘I’ll just get changed,’ she said, but aware of all she had in her locker she was factoring in a dash back to her own hotel too.

‘Please...’ He stopped abruptly. Matteo had been about to say, ‘Please don’t.’ She looked amazing in the Boucher green leather after all, but there was something that stopped him and he quickly changed his plea. ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you there on the hour.’

Abby felt her cheeks go a little pink again.

‘Is it okay if I have a look around before I head off?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

One of the mechanics who was peeling a pear offered Matteo half and, when he took it, offered to show him around. It was actually fascinating. There was a whole wall of tyres that would see them through just one race and the science of it all was something Matteo had never considered.

Abby took her time to get ready. Given Matteo had said that they were meeting on the hour there really was no time to go back to her hotel and change. Also, she was incredibly nervous. Oh, she had sat through her share of dinners and lunches, of course, just not with someone as gorgeous as he, and not with someone who made her smile.

Yes, she knew that she came across as brittle at times, but she had been particularly awful to him.

She forgave herself then.

After all, she knew why.

So, what to wear to dinner at an eight-star hotel with a stunning man when you have neither the time nor inclination for a dress but all you have in your locker is a pair of ill-fitting jeans, a massive black T-shirt and flat sandals?

She suppressed a smile because she had known exactly what Matteo had been about to say regarding her leather suit. That was why her cheeks had gone pink. It had felt a little like flirting and Abby wasn’t in the least good at that.

* * *

She put on some dark glasses and ran a comb through her hair. As she left the locker room she took out her phone to call for a taxi and then startled when she saw that Matteo was still there.

‘Sorry, I thought you’d have your own car. Why didn’t you say?’ he asked.

‘I just...’ Abby shrugged.

‘Come on,’ he said and put on his own dark glasses before heading back out in the sun.

What the hell happened there? he thought as they walked to his car. It was as if Abby had done everything possible to look as unattractive as she could. The jeans were massive and as for the T-shirt!

Maybe hot dogs would be a better idea after all.

He glanced down and he didn’t think he’d seen an unpainted female toenail before.

Half an hour spent getting ready, for that!

‘Will they mind jeans at the hotel?’ Abby checked as he drove them there.

‘Not the way you wear them.’ Matteo turned and smiled. ‘You look great.’

Again, she laughed.

‘You are such...’ She just laughed again. ‘I wasn’t expecting to go out for dinner, okay? I do know I’m badly dressed.’

‘For who?’ Matteo shrugged.

He was relaxing to her.

Oh, she was on edge, Abby knew, yet somehow Matteo was relaxing to her.

‘What happened to your eye?’ she asked.

‘I came off a horse,’ he said. ‘That’s how I dislocated my shoulder. I’m supposed to be wearing a shoulder strap.’

‘So, why aren’t you?’

‘I lost it.’

‘Oh.’

He was so incredibly handsome and she felt incredibly drab.

‘I could stop by my hotel and get changed,’ Abby offered, still a little worried that she was way underdressed.

‘No need.’

It was, however, Matteo thought, a seriously nice restaurant they were heading to. Seriously, seriously nice but thankfully he’d been here with the sheikh and had lobbed enough tips these past days that he knew they’d give him a welcome smile as they walked in.

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.

CHAPTER THREE

ABBY DIDN’T SLEEP WELL.

Yes, their conversation last night about money should have reassured her but Abby knew that she’d lied to Matteo.

They didn’t really have a hope of making fifth place.

But they had to though.

Not just for the chance of Matteo investing in them.

Her breakfast was delivered and Abby decided to eat it in bed and, as she did, she took out her laptop and read the news.

The sports news, of course.

The Boucher team barely got a mention.

The Carter team were on form, she read, and the Lachance team got plenty of mentions too.

Or rather Hunter did.

She looked at him, dressed in his familiar yellow leather and wearing that cocky, arrogant smile, and if there was such a thing as pure hate, then Abby felt that now.

She wasn’t scared of him any more.

It had been nine years since that terrible night and now, instead of scared, she was angry.

And it was such an undiluted, white-hot anger that ravaged her that it required revenge.

Hunter was thirty-four now and, to date, the Henley cup had been his for nine of the past ten years.

The one year that he had lost it had been the night that Abby had chosen to end their brief relationship.

Foolish timing perhaps but she had arrived in Monte Carlo and had sat in a hotel room, knowing their time together had ended.

They had only been going out for four weeks but Hunter wanted to move things along.

He’d invited her to Monte Carlo.

There would be separate hotel rooms, Hunter had assured her, given he needed his space before a race, but Abby knew very well what was going to come after.

She had gone on the pill but even as she had flown there, Abby had known that the nerves she felt weren’t the ones you should be feeling when you were about to lose your virginity.

Hunter made her feel nervous, in a way that she couldn’t quite define.

It had been cars that that had drawn them together at first but it hadn’t taken long to realise he didn’t want a discussion.

Hunter talked and she was supposed to listen.

Everything she had said about cars he had dismissed.

Oh, at eighteen, who wouldn’t be flattered to be going out with a star and to be picked up and whisked off to Monte Carlo in his private jet?

Only the gloss had already worn off by then.

Abby hadn’t wanted to go but her father had been appalled when she’d suggested cancelling.

Hunter’s jet was already on the way!

And so, Abby had gone. She had had a few drinks for courage during the race and then back at the hotel, as Hunter had faced the press after his surprise loss, Abby had had a couple more.

He had phoned and said that he was back at the hotel and Abby had taken the elevator up to Hunter’s room to tell him that no, she didn’t want to go out tonight and neither did she want to stay in.

In fact, Abby had already booked a ticket and was flying home to New York that night.

As her father had later pointed out—you don’t tell a man who has just lost a cup that you’re breaking up with him.

So what? Abby had thought at the time.

She hadn’t wanted to sleep with him and if she’d stayed, then she knew how the night was expected to end. Abby didn’t want her first to be Hunter; it had been as simple as that.

And, her father had also added, Hunter’s lawyers would make mincemeat out of her, given that she’d gone to his hotel room after all.

Drunk.

‘Not drunk, Dad, I was just...’ But then she had stopped trying to describe how she had felt that night as she’d knocked on his hotel door.

Abby couldn’t really remember how she had felt before it happened.

She simply couldn’t remember who the woman was that had stepped into a man’s hotel suite and expected to be able to speak her mind.

Which she had.

They were over, Abby had told him.

‘Not quite,’ Hunter said.

She hadn’t fought enough, according to her father.

There wasn’t a scratch on Hunter after all.

Abby had frozen when first he had grabbed her and then she had tried to run but had only made it a few steps across his suite and he had pushed her into the bathroom.

And when it was over, when she lay on a cold bathroom floor and thought she could not be more broken both inside or out, Hunter had stood and then urinated over her.

Just to be sure.

Absolutely he had broken her.

Not now.

‘I’ll take that cup from you,’ Abby vowed and spoke to the screen. ‘You’ll go out the loser you really are.’

Matteo was right: it was all about mind games.

Today Hunter and the other teams would find out that Matteo Di Sione was considering coming on board.

And that would rattle them.

The Di Sione empire was amazing—from shipping, to apps, to computers, they had their hand in everything and had money everywhere.

Matteo was right again: she needed to ooze confidence, not dread.

Maybe now was not the time to be spending money on clothes when she was worried about the hotel bill but there were slim pickings in her wardrobe.

There was a dress that might have been handy for dinner yesterday but wasn’t suitable for a gala event.

And then there was the dress that Abby had sworn she would wear if they ever made it to the podium.

It was sexy; it was the colour of tarnished silver with a slight green hue and just way too much for today.

Truth be known, Abby could never see herself having the confidence to wear it—wherever they placed.

She knew that she would have to buy something for today.

Abby signed into her bank account and blinked when she saw the balance.

Oh, my God!

Matteo had meant what he said about ensuring they had every chance of winning.

Nervous, excited and more than a little bit relieved, instead of quickly dressing and hitting the shops Abby dealt with serious business first and rang down to Reception. Having made the necessary arrangements, she called Pedro.

‘Hi,’ Abby said when he picked up.

‘Abby, I don’t have time to talk.’ Pedro’s tone was clipped. ‘I am just going down to the pool and then I’m hitting the gym.’

‘About that,’ Abby said. ‘Pedro, I’ve just spoken with Reception and you’re being moved to a suite with its own lap pool and gym.’

‘You’re serious?’

‘I am. Someone’s already on their way to move your things.’