Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
A FTER WRAPPING UP three very successful practice sessions on the first day of the Italian race weekend, Nina had half convinced herself that the previous weekend had been a dream. Despite his threat, Tristan had not been in touch to demand any more of her time, nor had he appeared at the track during any of the press conferences that had taken place yesterday.
Conveniently, their playboy team owner had left Nina alone to issue a litany of ‘No comment’ and ‘Next question’ after every journalist’s probing and snide remarks about the speculation surrounding their public displays of affection.
The Falco Roux team principal was an older man named Jock, a man who already begrudged Nina’s presence on the team at all. As predicted, the recent events had only worsened his treatment of her. Her fellow drivers and team members, thankfully, had interjected a couple of times to remind the press that their new team owner had not attended any races yet so far and had very little to do with the day-to-day running of the team. This was after one particularly barbed comment from a news reporter asking if she didn’t think her family name had already given her enough privilege in Elite One.
Usually, she shrugged off the overwhelmingly negative opinions of herself as a pay driver, but being accused of using her body as a way of climbing the industry ladder felt different. It had got under her skin, making her feel shaky and tight. A feeling that she struggled to throw off, even today on the track as she moved through their strategies and worked on a few last-minute issues with the car.
She had seen the other team drivers and crew looking at her and whispering when they thought she wasn’t looking. It didn’t take much to imagine what they might be thinking. Despite the overwhelmingly positive public reaction to the romance, from a professional point of view, some people were uncomfortable with the notion. Billionaire playboy or not, Tristan was older than her by twelve years and he was essentially her boss. And despite his assurances that he would swing the narrative, Tristan had done nothing to protect her from the backlash so far. On the contrary, he’d practically fed her to the wolves.
Friday of the race weekends was often a strange mix of on-track and off-track commitments, followed by whatever events and public appearances were required of her in the evening. She took her time showering in her modest hotel suite, taking advantage of the sleek high-pressure shower and steam room to try to blast away some of her stress. She didn’t have a high-maintenance beauty regime by any standards, but as she took in her reflection in the mirror, she had a feeling that her usual routine of moisturiser and mascara wasn’t going to be enough to mask the sheer exhaustion on her face.
At least the cocktail dress the PR team had sent up was a delightfully lightweight and comfortable satin stretch material that wouldn’t irritate her skin for the entire evening. She couldn’t avoid heels, but compromised by sliding a pair of simple black flats into her clutch for when the discomfort became too much and she could slip away. Which she fully intended to do as early as possible.
There were three events on the roster from what she could remember, a charity meet and greet, a dinner with their Italian investors, the Marchesi family, followed by a rooftop cocktail hour and dancing.
With the track qualifying sessions beginning tomorrow, it was accepted that the drivers could leave at their own discretion once their minimum appearance had been made. Appearances meant photographs, lots and lots of them—and as far as she knew, Tristan Falco was still in hiding. Perhaps she’d imagined the entire debacle at the beginning of the week, or perhaps he’d taken her advice and realised that she was far more trouble than she was worth. That a match between the two of them would never convince anyone.
Perhaps he’d simply found someone else to fulfil his temporary fiancée needs. Perhaps she was about to be fired, after all. Her stomach tightened at the thought.
Her security guards escorted her in the lift down to where a sleek limo awaited her outside, a much more extravagant ride than she was used to being assigned. Her curiosity was short-lived, however, as the door opened when she was a few steps away and out emerged the object of her thoughts.
Tristan Falco had come to Milan after all, and that meant the deal was still on. She didn’t know whether the sudden tightening in her stomach was from fear or anticipation as he leaned forward to place a kiss upon her right cheek. Again, the smell of his cologne was surprisingly pleasant, as was the weight of his hand upon her waist as he looked down at her.
‘Miss me?’ he asked.
‘It’s been five days.’
‘You poor thing, you’ve kept count.’ The tilt of his head and slight smirk to anyone else might seem like a gentle lovers’ back-and-forth. No one looking on would know that Nina was desperately resisting the urge to smack him in the face.
‘If I were to keep count of how many race weekends you’ve actually attended, I wouldn’t need to go further than my thumb. That is, if you actually plan to attend the race.’
‘After the spike in sales this week, I’m under strict instruction from Astrid Lewis not to miss a single race weekend for the rest of the season.’
Of course, he wasn’t here to watch her race or cheer her on or anything of the sort. His appearance here was entirely to do with the optics of this nonsensical PR stunt his team was executing. Apart from the speculation around their relationship, the other main news point in the motorsports world was Apollo’s decision to return to Elite One for his family’s rival team. It was an action that no team had ever seen in the past, a driver bearing the name of a historic team signing for their family’s biggest rival.
Of course, no one was talking about the fact that Nina had spent four days this week with the team as they began the monumental task of readying their new driver for the second half of the season. With the Belgian Premio next weekend, followed by Spain the weekend after, and then the three-week summer break, Apollo’s first race would be a historic one, starting as it was with the revival of the Argentinian Elite One Premio in Buenos Aires. She doubted that Astrid had to coerce Tristan to attend that race.
‘I know I haven’t been around anywhere near enough. Thankfully I have my beautiful fiancée to step up now and give me all the harsh truths I’ve needed to hear.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be harsh.’
‘I know,’ he said with a slight smile. ‘It took a moment for me to realise that; it’s just your nature to be rather...’
‘Blunt?’ she offered defensively.
‘I was going to say boldly honest,’ he said, his gaze holding onto hers for a long moment before he continued. ‘I’m not here to fight. I’m actually here to take care of some very important business.’
Nina looked out of the window as the car slowed. They were in the very heart of Milan where some of the most expensive and grand fashion houses had their flagship stores. The limousine pulled to a stop outside an ornate historic-looking triple-storey store, one that bore the Falco crest.
‘We are not here for me, Nina, we are here for you,’ Tristan said once they were inside.
‘Me?’
‘I hope you don’t mind but when we planned tonight’s look, I specifically told the team to leave out jewellery for this reason.’
Nina stilled. ‘You planned my...wait, you’re choosing my clothing now as well?’
‘Your personal trainer Sophie was kind enough to give me some guidance on your rather specific taste in clothing. The material is to your liking, no?’
He had picked out her dress. Suddenly the silken slide of the material against her thighs as they walked along the central aisle of the cavernous store felt intimate and seductive, rather than comforting. Much like the man himself. There was nothing about Tristan Falco that was comforting at all.
‘So you’re here to drape me in your diamonds like a walking advertisement, is that it?’
‘Actually, we’re here for a ring. Your engagement ring, to be precise.’
If Nina had been a cartoon character, she was pretty sure this would be the moment when her jaw would drop comically to the floor. As it was, she just about managed to keep herself from tripping over her own shoes. Had he picked out the damned heels as well?
‘I thought... I assumed that we wouldn’t be announcing that part so soon.’
‘We won’t be announcing anything. You’ll be seen tonight wearing an appropriately eye-catching diamond on your left hand. Gossip will do the rest.’ He waited a beat, his eyes searching her face with a frown. ‘You look surprised, cari?a . Surely you didn’t expect the CEO of Falco Diamonds’ fiancée to walk around without a gigantic rock on her finger?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ she murmured, her fingertips suddenly feeling tingly and numb as she fought not to twist them in her lap. Her mother had taught her, forced her not to fidget when she was uneasy or nervous. She’d learned how to keep her breathing even and steady, how to periodically meet the gaze of important people so that she didn’t seem shifty or untrustworthy. But she had never been trained how to respond in a situation like this.
As she sat frozen still, the world’s most untameable bachelor slid a tray of antique diamond rings in front of her. In her peripheral vision, the store manager and sales assistant looked on with whimsical smiles as though they were observing a truly romantic moment between a couple in love. She supposed that was why Tristan reached over and grabbed her hand gently, sliding his thumb across her knuckles and leaning forward to move a lock of hair from her forehead.
‘I asked them to bring this one up from the vault.’ He held up a small red box, separate from the tray of glittering pieces the manager had placed between them. The box snapped open, revealing a truly gigantic black diamond surrounded by a coronet of brilliant white gemstones. ‘But you are the one who must wear it, after all. So take your pick from everything you see here.’
She hardly remembered what she did next, but one moment Tristan was smiling with triumph and the next he was on one knee before her. He slid the black diamond ring slowly onto her finger while a gentle round of applause sounded out from their small audience.
‘Perfect,’ he murmured, meeting her eyes for one scorching second before turning to ask someone to bring a tray of earrings and necklaces to match her newest accessory.
He insisted upon draping the jewels around her neck himself. With the mirror in front of her, she watched as he slid her hair to one side and did up the clasp at the back of her necklace. His eyes met hers with a silent question through the reflection in the mirror. Nina glanced at him, then quickly away as her breathing began to feel a little tight.
To all the world right now, she had just become the future Mrs Falco, and she couldn’t even look her fiancé in the eye without having a mild panic attack. What on earth would she do when he eventually had to kiss her again?
Tristan could not say that he had ever imagined how a proposal of his own would go, but this certainly had not been it. Nina had looked as though she was breathing through a rather painful dental procedure during their entire ring selection, elevating into a mild state of frozen panic once he had actually placed the diamond upon her finger. Things had not improved much since they’d made their way out of the jewellery store to pose briefly for a small crowd of photographers. Nina had brushed her hair out of her face with her left hand as he’d instructed her to, and they had travelled to their first event of the evening in silence. He lost sight of her soon after arriving at the charity event, with his presence being required for a series of minor television interviews and hers for an Elite One photo call with the other drivers.
His own interviews were predictably focused on getting him to release any details about his relationship with Nina, which he handled with ease, taking enjoyment out of toying with his word selection. His team had not had to coach him much on the art of selective information sharing; Tristan had always viewed his relationship with the press as a game of sorts, a series of chess moves, using them as he pleased. It had worked in his favour so far, but when he’d seen some of the articles and social media posts that had been released about Nina during the few days since their scandal had gone public, he’d immediately booked for his private train car to take him from Paris to Milan.
Even now, not knowing where she was or what questions she was having to field alone made him feel like the world’s biggest jerk. He’d played it cool, but sharing more than he’d intended during their last encounter had made him feel off balance, and so he had done something he never usually did. He’d ghosted her.
It wouldn’t happen again. From this moment on, he intended for them to act as a team, whether she liked it or not.
Teamwork seemed to be a concept that Nina was quite familiar with, judging by her current cosy pose with her co-driver, Daniele Roberts. The Scottish-Italian heart-throb had been one of their team’s biggest assets over the past year, and Tristan knew Nina had played an expert game in defending him into first position in a race earlier in the season, when their lead driver had been unwell. Tristan might not have attended that race either but he had kept tabs on the results and highlights, as he had done for every other racing weekend this year. As he watched, Roberts leaned in and whispered something into Nina’s ear, making her laugh loudly before she composed herself back into a serene smiling position for the camera. Once the photographer had finished up, she turned back to Roberts, lightly punching him on the arm.
Their interaction was so friendly, so easy , it caught Tristan off guard. She wasn’t cranky with the other man, nor was she picking apart his words or studiously avoiding his gaze. In fact, she seemed to be actively enjoying their conversation as the two moved to the side of the room seeking a more private spot.
He immediately felt his body tense as if to launch into pursuit, but before he could he was interrupted by a familiar bellowing Italian voice. Valerio Marchesi had once been his biggest rival when they had both attended boarding school, a rivalry that had lasted until they had bonded over their shared traumatic experiences and Tristan had eagerly helped the other man to access some therapy and begin to heal. That healing, along with some other, more shady and dramatic occurrences, had led to Valerio marrying Daniela Avelar, who stepped up now to give Tristan a familiar kiss on the cheek.
‘I heard the most delicious rumour this week, Falco,’ Valerio said, a mischievous smile lighting up his face as he slid onto a barstool alongside him and demanded the full details of how Tristan had gone from a devoted bachelor to being engaged to a racing-car driver all in a matter of a few days.
‘It seems your fiancée is a little busy at present,’ Valerio said wryly, glancing at the spot where Tristan was very much still keeping tabs on Nina and her teammate. ‘I do love to see you finally getting your comeuppance.’
He was vaguely aware of the fact that his friend referenced a night in the past, where his wife had asked Tristan to play the role of her date to prove a point. A night that felt like a lifetime ago now that Valerio and Dani were very happily married with two children. But he didn’t have time to rehash the past, not when his fiancée was being pulled into a deep embrace by a twinkly eyed dandy in plain view of the entire room.
His friends’ laughter quickly blended into the background noise as Tristan made his way across the gallery towards where Nina and the other man had retreated. As he got within earshot he heard the Scot ask, ‘So you’re not even sleeping together yet?’
Tristan’s blood boiled as he crossed the rest of the distance between them with two long strides. Feeling a hint of satisfaction as Roberts’s smirking expression faltered when he caught sight of Tristan standing over Nina’s shoulder.
‘That seems like a very personal question, Mr Roberts.’ Tristan smiled wolfishly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss upon Nina’s bare shoulder before sliding a hand around her waist and meeting the other man’s eyes. Instead of looking shaken or uncomfortable, Roberts seemed only to smile wider.
‘It’s just locker-room banter,’ he said, his trademark broad grin pasted upon his handsome face. The driver’s playboy reputation rivalled even Tristan’s own if the tabloids were true. But Tristan had always liked Roberts’s upbeat charisma, until this very moment in fact. Because right now he wanted to wipe that smile right off his face.
‘You like to be treated like one of the guys, isn’t that right, Roux?’ Roberts said.
Nina let out a small huff of laughter, at the same time attempting to subtly slide her waist out of Tristan’s grip. He held on even tighter, splaying his hand across her abdomen and noting that his finger-span almost covered her from hip to hip. Below the belt, his body reacted primitively to that knowledge, but above the belt he remained stony-faced and focused on staring down the man who seemed intent on challenging his patience.
Nina sucked in a swift breath and looked up at him for a split second before turning back to answer Roberts. ‘I think we both know I am far superior to all of you, but yes, the banter is fine.’
‘Well, she’s not one of the guys. She’s my fiancée.’ Tristan offered a charming smile of his own, through rather clenched teeth. ‘And I take offence to you probing for the intimate details of our relationship.’
‘He wasn’t probing about our intimate details,’ Nina said drily. ‘He was just probing about yours. He’s quite curious about your bedroom prowess, it seems. That’s actually been the most common question I’ve been asked this week. Is it true that Tristan Falco is a magician in the bedroom?’
Tristan choked. ‘A magician now, is it? Last I heard I’d been compared to a deity. I’ve been downgraded, it seems.’
Roberts laughed aloud and then had the good sense to slowly retreat from their conversation. Leaving them alone in the corner of the gallery.
‘I don’t think the caveman performance is quite necessary for this ruse to work, do you?’ Nina turned from him and surveyed the crowd in the gallery below.
‘I believe I was pretty clear that I would be the one to decide what is necessary.’
‘Ah yes, how silly of me to forget. I have simply to endure your brooding looks and act as a walking jewellery stand.’ She sighed, her eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary upon the area below his belt buckle. ‘I should have assured Roberts that there is no chance of me ever experiencing the truth behind those rumours of your...prowess.’
Tristan froze, not quite believing his ears. Surely he had misheard her, or misconstrued her intention. Surely she couldn’t mean...?
‘Deity...’ she mused thoughtfully. ‘It’s like everyone is asking me about the supercar parked in my garage, and I’m expected to brag...even though I’m not allowed to drive it.’
Tristan startled. ‘Nina...what are you—’
‘Oh, relax, I’m not actually propositioning you, Tristan. No doubt my brother has already warned you off too.’
‘Your brother has no say in who I do or do not take to bed.’
‘Well, he thinks he does.’ She wandered to the next painting, her gaze roaming over the paint strokes absently as her voice tightened with a hint of emotion. ‘He hasn’t spoken to me in fourteen months, did you know that? Then today I saw he’d left me a voicemail, no apology or explanation, just warning me not to sleep with you.’
Tristan ignored the pang of guilt in his gut at the knowledge that he alone knew the truth of why her brother had left her alone for that long. But he couldn’t tell her yet...and how very unfair that was—for both of them. All Tristan could hope was that when Nina did finally discover the truth about what he’d done, she’d see that Tristan had acted in the Roux company’s best interests and understand the reason for his silence. Instead he simply said, ‘He’s just being protective of you.’
‘He used to be,’ she said, turning to face him once more. ‘I only wish he was half as protective of our family’s legacy and my inheritance as he is over my virtue.’
Tristan laughed at the outdated term. ‘Your virtue? You make it sound as though I’m some kind of devilish rake and you’re an innocent debutante.’
A strange look came over her face, and she took a few steps away, looking up at a nearby painting. ‘My reputation is my virtue, I suppose. Just look how easily people assume that I must be some kind of calculating seductress, because I’ve managed to pin down the world’s most untameable bachelor.’
‘I suppose that makes me the devil in this scenario?’ He paused, realising he didn’t like that contrast between them one bit. ‘Are you wondering if I plan to seduce you, Nina?’
‘Are you?’ Her eyes pinned his without missing a beat, holding him captive with their unfathomable depths that seemed to always see far too much.
He made a weak attempt at charm. ‘What would you do if I said yes?’
She shrugged. ‘I walked away easily enough after your first attempt.’
Whatever he’d expected her answer to be, it wasn’t that. Ignoring the now persistent ache below his belt at the turn this conversation had taken, Tristan leaned back against the balcony rail and surveyed his pint-sized fake fiancée. There was no trace of mirth in her delicate features, nor any indication that she might be testing him or making fun of him. She was absolutely serious. He was struck suddenly by how young she was. And how old and jaded he felt in comparison. He’d flirted and toyed with plenty of women in his life, but with her...it wasn’t the same. There was no guile in her words, no double entendre or expectation.
Having her look at him this way... It made him feel as though he’d had his clothing peeled off piece by piece, leaving him with nowhere to hide. It irritated him that she could influence him with so little effort. It wouldn’t do.
‘Are you challenging me, cari?a ?’
‘Of course, you would see it that way. Your reputation precedes you on such a scale it borders upon a cult. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see if any of it is true or if it’s just more of your... spin .’
‘You believe that I’ve hired women to stalk me and break into my hotel rooms on purpose?’
‘No.’ She paused, thoughtful for a moment. ‘But I believe you do nothing to discourage it. If this were a real relationship, I would never have a moment’s peace.’
‘If this were a real relationship, I’d make sure you only felt peace. You’d be so relaxed you’d practically float from my bed, out into the world.’ He let his voice drop to a murmur as he fought not to step closer.
Her pupils dilated, a slight blush appearing high on her cheeks. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it and looked meekly away as they were called to rejoin the party for more photos. Tristan felt a thrum of satisfaction rush through him. His little cat might play tough, but she wasn’t unaffected by him. Not at all.