Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HE MEDICAL TEAM was quick and efficient as usual in tending to the minor bruising that Nina had incurred when the other driver had hit the back of her car. Incidents of any kind were treated with severity in Elite One, a sport that prided itself on the huge safety improvements they had developed for drivers and crew over the past couple of decades. In no time at all she’d been signed off to return to her hotel, accompanied by her trainer, Sophie, who would stay with her for the night in case of concussion.
Nina had had multiple crashes in her career, as most drivers did. She’d adhered to her safety protocols and kept her cool, much to the compliments of the team, but still...knowing she’d been so close to her first podium finish hurt more than any amount of bruising or damaged pride. She knew that she didn’t have a concussion, but still she was happy for Sophie’s company on the long walk out past the roaring crowds and into a car.
She had foolishly expected Tristan to rush to her side, considering he’d been right above the crash site and had likely had a full view of the entire incident. But he hadn’t appeared in the medical bay, nor had he shown up to check on her in her motorhome with the rest of the management team. She’d been half tempted to text him, to chastise him for jeopardising the legitimacy of their precious ruse. What kind of fiancé didn’t rush to his lover’s side when she’d been injured?
Her needy thoughts had felt silly and pathetic, and she’d angrily shrugged them off, instead opting for the far more mature option of ordering multiple fried foods and desserts to her hotel room, much to the eye-rolling of her beleaguered trainer.
‘I’m just saying there are healthier forms of ice cream on the market now,’ Sophie grumbled as they stepped out of the car service and into the foyer of the team hotel.
‘I don’t want healthy, I want sugar,’ Nina gritted, laying a gentle punch on her long-time friend’s elbow. ‘If you’re nice to me I might even share.’
‘Looks like someone else might have a different idea,’ Sophie said cryptically. ‘Like maybe a little Argentine tango for two?’
‘Tango is always for two, that’s a given.’ Nina stopped speaking as she caught sight of the someone else Sophie had just referenced.
Tristan strode across the hotel foyer, directly towards her. When she’d briefly imagined him rushing to her side while the medic had checked out her bruises, she’d envisioned a little more swoon and romance, but instead he came to a stop in front of her, a scowl transforming his usually flirty features.
‘The doctors cleared you?’ he asked, mouth tight with tension.
‘I’m completely fine. I just need to go to bed.’
‘We were supposed to attend the big party, but I offered to stay with her in case of concussion,’ Sophie said awkwardly, looking from Tristan’s furious face to Nina’s impassive one with rampant curiosity.
‘There’s no need for you to miss the event. Nina will be staying with me.’
‘I most certainly will not be—’
‘Nina,’ he gritted, turning a forced smile to Sophie. ‘Thank you for getting her back safely. Enjoy the party.’
To her horror, he simply grabbed her by the elbow and directed her towards the private elevator that led to the penthouse suite, leaving Sophie waggling her eyebrows gleefully in their wake.
‘Stop manhandling me. You’re walking way too fast.’
He paused, looking down at her with a stricken expression before returning to a slightly more gentle form of manhandling, straight into the lift.
‘This elevator only goes to the penthouse. Your things have already been delivered to my bedroom,’ he stated, punching the only button on the dial and exhaling a long breath as the elevator stuttered and then began to move smoothly upwards. ‘Don’t fight me on this. I’m already only just about holding it together as it is.’
‘I’m sorry if you had plans to socialise and be photographed this evening, but I don’t see how my injury has to change any of that.’
Midnight blue eyes narrowed upon her. ‘You think I’m bothered about us missing a photo call right now?’
‘Aren’t you? Your top priority is your reputation, that’s what this little fake engagement ruse is all about after all.’
‘That was before...’ He paused, eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. For a moment she wondered if he was about to pounce, as he had that night in Milan when she’d dared him to. But all too quickly, the elevator doors slid open to reveal a long hall and two security guards. Tristan greeted the men by name, guiding her down the ornate hallway to a set of tall double doors.
The grand royal suite inside was as lavish and needlessly large as one would expect. It was modern and airy, but still held an air of history, as though it had been recently vacated by the kings and queens it had been named for. Priceless gold-framed artworks hung on every wall, and the ceilings were high and ornate with tiny cherubs carved into the moulding.
‘My own room was perfectly fine,’ she couldn’t resist griping as she followed along behind him through the cavernous hallway. ‘You could fit the entire team up here and still have space for a ball.’
‘I’ll get right on that, once I’ve made sure you haven’t passed out from your injuries.’
‘I’m fine.’ Tiredness washed over her and for once she didn’t feel like fighting him. ‘You don’t have to watch me, but I suppose that’s what my fiancé would do.’
‘I don’t care what I should do right now. Not when I’ve just watched you smack into a metal wall at almost three hundred kilometres an hour.’
‘It wasn’t that fast. I had just decelerated from a turn, remember.’
He narrowed his eyes wildly upon her once more, his deft hands pausing inside the first-aid bag he’d produced.
‘I’ve already been checked and cleared by the medical team, Tristan, no cuts and no visible wounds of any kind, other than minor bruising.’
‘I know. I spoke to them over the phone and had a second opinion phoned in by my physician in Paris.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes. I did.’ He met her eyes, his mouth opening for a second as though he might add to that but, instead, he just went back to gathering more medicines and an ice pack from the case.
He guided her into the massive master bedroom, insisting that was where she would sleep tonight. Growing more groggy and tired by the minute, Nina didn’t argue when he kneeled down to remove her running shoes and helped her peel off the cotton yoga pants and baggy T-shirt she had hastily changed into after the medical team had finished scanning her entire body for internal bleeding and fractures. As calm and cool as she pretended to be, hitting the wall at such high speed was not a minor thing.
In fact, it was the one incident she had managed to avoid her entire career thus far, having only heard anecdotal accounts from other drivers about the shocking pressure of the gravitational forces that came with travelling at exceptionally high speeds. If you put a solid metal barrier in front of that speed unexpectedly, well... She had been incredibly lucky today.
Maybe that sense of relief was why she didn’t stop Tristan from fussing over her pillows as she took the pain relief medication he’d laid out. He guided her back against the pillows he’d adjusted but then surprised her by lying down next to her on the bed.
‘Get comfortable here, because you are not leaving this bed.’
Nina rolled over to her side so that she could look at him, wincing when even that hurt. ‘Don’t threaten me with a good time, Falco. Your three-day wait is up—am I finally about to get the full playboy experience?’
He turned to face her, and for the first time she realised that he had removed his suit jacket and tie. She took in the bared skin on show, the strong column of his throat and the top of his tanned chest beneath. When she looked up to see his eyes had darkened upon her, she swallowed audibly.
Tristan made a low tutting sound, reaching out to place the back of his hand against her now flushed cheek. ‘Utterly insatiable...even with a possible mild concussion. Is that truly what you’re thinking about right now?’
‘You made me promise you, after all,’ she whispered, shivering as his knuckles trailed down to skate along the side of her neck and bare shoulder.
‘Even I have my limits when it comes to focusing on certain situations.’ His brows furrowed, his hand sweeping down the outside of her arm where light bruising was already beginning to appear.
‘How can someone be so fearless and strong, and still be so utterly breakable?’
She wasn’t sure if he had intended to speak those words aloud, and the sudden strain in his voice hit her squarely in the chest. She realised then that his snappy, irritated caretaking was not exasperation as she had assumed, but possibly...worry? For her?
‘So you’ve skipped out on your big event to tuck me into bed?’ she asked quietly.
‘You need to rest. And I’m here to make sure that you actually do that.’
‘You’ve waylaid all my self-destructive plans for the night, I assure you. Sophie is likely very relieved. I told her I planned to order every dessert on the menu and then eat every single one while watching as many romantic comedies as I can find. She hates romance almost as much as she hates refined sugar.’
‘But you don’t?’
‘Romcoms have always been my go-to for when I’m overwhelmed. They’re like medicine, they help me calm down and...regulate.’ She used the last word deliberately, gauging his reaction to the rather clinical term. She’d often wondered if her personal collection of unique strengths, differences and challenges were perhaps symptoms of something more. Something that her parents hadn’t noticed or hadn’t known to look for. But after seeing Astrid on the yacht, she’d done a little research and it turned out she ticked quite a number of boxes.
Tristan frowned. ‘I can see how that would help. I usually prefer action-adventure-type films, but my mother and I would watch all the classic romantic comedies together to learn English. I had quite an interesting vocabulary for a number of years.’
‘You’re close with your mother,’ she said tiredly, her eyelids drooping as she fought off sleep. ‘I have no idea what that must be like. That kind of...easy love. I didn’t have that with mine. We’re too different, I think.’
‘It’s not always easy,’ he said honestly. ‘Back then it was even easier, when we had my uncle to play referee between us. But yes, we were always close.’
She didn’t miss the furrow in his brows at the mention of his uncle, nor the way he quickly got up off the bed and set about ordering them both a copious amount of dessert from room service. She focused on staying awake as long as she could, but eventually not even the sugar or her favourite romcom could do the job.
She slid into a dream-filled sleep where Tristan watched over her like a guardian angel, his strong hands gently petting her hair while he whispered passionate words in his native tongue. Dream Tristan smelled just as divine as the real-life version and she allowed herself to burrow her face into his skin, breathing him in with a groan of approval. How easy this would be to get used to, she mused as she crawled up higher against his solid male chest and felt his low rumble of amusement as her lips clumsily pressed against his.
‘You make me wish this were real,’ she murmured, half on a sigh. ‘Making me...want you.’
‘I’m right here, mi querida ,’ her dream lover whispered against her mouth. ‘I’m yours.’
Tristan opened his eyes to the sight of sunlight streaming in through the windows and Nina fast asleep in his arms. He’d managed to sleep the whole night through somehow, despite the little minx’s determination to press every inch of her lithe body against his. Testing his muscles, he was pretty sure he hadn’t moved once through the night. A quick look at his watch showed it was just dawn.
He had done his best to keep Nina awake and talking for as long as possible until her eyes had begun to droop and she had become completely unintelligible. Once he was sure that her sleep was safe and not one born of deep concussion, his own body had eventually begun to relax. That was, until she’d begun mumbling and moaning in her sleep, seemingly determined to have her way with him. Her clumsy kiss and sleep-induced longing had kept him awake far longer than he’d like to admit as he pondered his own tangle of emotions. Adrenaline really was the best form of sleeping tablet and he’d eventually fallen asleep with her nestled safely in his arms.
But now that he was awake, the anxiety from the day before came back in full force. After Nina had hit the wall and everyone had gone into a panic, Tristan’s anxiety had taken over and he found himself needing to retreat so as not to do something reckless. He never knew when his panic would impede his day-to-day life. It had become such an immovable part of him over the past decade since the accident that had ended his uncle’s life prematurely. His beloved uncle, who had been such an important father figure to him, as he’d never known his own. A man who’d fallen apart after the death of his wife, a wonderful woman Tristan had also loved dearly. He’d never been able to reach his uncle through the years of deep grief that had followed. His disengagement with life meant he should never have been flying the plane he’d crashed, killing himself but thankfully not Tristan, the only passenger on board. He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar tension in his chest rising as his ears imagined the sound of screaming jets and rushing air.
His post-traumatic stress disorder was something he managed, but not something he would ever be free of. The aeroplane accident would always be a part of him, even if it had taken him a number of painful years to accept that. Still, old wounds flared up hard and he was using every one of the tools and strategies he’d ever learned to keep himself in check.
Carefully, he disentangled his arm from beneath Nina’s head and slid backwards until he could quietly slip out of bed. He still wore his clothing from the day before minus his shoes and coat, but the collar of his shirt felt too tight and he resisted the urge to rip it off himself in one move.
He hardly remembered getting on the phone and bellowing at his own private doctor in Paris for a second opinion on Nina’s injuries. The small number of executives who had followed him from the guest spectators’ suite had looked upon him with shock and possible fear, he’d likely seemed so unhinged. It was a part of himself he’d worked hard to keep under wraps, so uncomfortable he was with the unpredictability of his own reactions once he’d been triggered. And so Tristan had been forced to leave the paddock to calm down, once he knew that Nina would be following him quickly enough.
Making his way through to the living room area of his suite, he quietly called through to the concierge and ordered coffee and breakfast to be sent up shortly. Nina would need to wake in order to take her medication and she couldn’t do that on an empty stomach. The domesticity of that thought made him pause but strangely, for once, it didn’t make him want to scream and run. He wanted to care for Nina in a way that he had never felt the urge to care for anyone before. It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite explain away with simple sexual attraction.
Sure, he very much wanted to bed her at his earliest convenience, but he also wanted to make sure that she was eating enough and that she wasn’t working too damned hard. She was too independent for her own good, and was always thinking of the team and her charity, never about herself.
She could have died yesterday.
And yet all she’d been worried about once she’d emerged from that car was missing out on the damned podium place. It had made him feel so furious and helpless—two emotions he greatly disliked feeling. Well, he’d taken control of himself now and he’d decided she was going to be forced to rest and to prioritise herself for once. Even if she fought him tooth and nail the entire time—in fact, he hoped she would. He loved it when she fought him.
This tangle of thoughts held him frozen in place on the balcony as he stared out at the sun rising above the city of Barcelona. He almost didn’t hear the terrace door sliding open behind him until Nina appeared by his side, wrapped in a fluffy white robe.
‘I wasn’t going to wake you until breakfast arrived,’ he said, gesturing for her to take a seat alongside him.
‘It’s gorgeous.’ She sighed, her eyes glued to the sky putting on a show as the dawn broke fully. ‘It’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘It really is,’ Tristan murmured in agreement, his eyes not leaving her face. She turned to look at him, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks.
‘How’s the pain?’ he asked, scanning her face for traces of discomfort.
‘I feel rather how one would expect to after slamming into an immovable object at high speed.’
Tristan winced, turning back to look out at the domes of the roofs in an effort to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to demand she never set foot in a race car again.
‘Sorry, Tristan, I’m honestly fine. I’ve never hit the wall before, not that hard anyway. But we are trained to encounter all emergencies, so I knew what to do to keep myself safe. The cars are safe, our apparatus is safe... I’m safe too.’
‘Luckily,’ Tristan growled. ‘This time.’
Her lips pursed tight. ‘Luck does have a part to play in it. But I’d also like to think that my skill and my commitment to using the correct techniques at all times are also in my favour. For the number of races I’ve started, I’ve got an exceptionally low damage record.’
‘I’m not saying that you’re not skilled, Nina. You didn’t cause that incident yesterday. I’ve already asked the team principal to issue a protest to the stewards to get that bastard suspended.’
‘You did what?’ She gasped, wincing a little at the pain in her shoulder as she turned to face him.
‘We all saw how he attacked you, recklessly trying to move ahead when he didn’t have the room. He will be severely penalised, if I have my way. He’s lucky if that’s all he gets away with. I just don’t understand how you can get back in the driver’s seat after an event like that.’
‘Because it’s my job , Tristan.’ She tilted her chin up defiantly. ‘I just as easily could have miscalculated during an overtaking manoeuvre and caused them to hydroplane. Would you seek to have me suspended from the sport if that were the case?’
He remained silent, holding his tongue at what he wished to say. What he wished to demand. If their engagement were real and they’d been planning to intertwine their lives, perhaps he might have spoken those thoughts aloud, but it wasn’t his place. Maybe it wasn’t his place either way. It was her job, after all.
But no job was worth more than one’s life. His uncle had learned that the hard way.
They were interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door and the next while was a pleasant distraction of a delicious breakfast, which they both practically inhaled, neither of them having eaten since early the evening before. Once they were pleasantly full and their plates had been cleared away, Nina stood and announced that she was going to get ready.
‘Get ready for what, exactly?’
She looked at him, hands on her hips. ‘I appreciate you taking care of me last night, Tristan, but we both have separate plans. You need to be back in Paris today and I have to pack for the photo shoot. And I’d like to get a workout in before I leave.’
‘First of all, you are on bed rest. And secondly, I will not be going to Paris. I’ll be escorting you to the Falco estate.’
‘You will? Does that mean that you’ve decided to do the photo shoot?’
‘No,’ he growled. ‘It means that I will be coming with you, and I will oversee the photo shoot to make sure that it goes according to my specifications.’
‘I rather feel like you are babysitting me.’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘But okay, then.’
‘That’s it?’ He narrowed his own suspiciously. ‘No five-minute sermon about how you don’t need to be babysat by me and how I’m stifling your independence by ordering you around?’
She smiled. She actually smiled at his outrage, the little brat.
‘No argument. I’ll go back and then we can leave.’ She sauntered over to the bathroom, pausing for a split second at the doorway. ‘You know, I think I kind of like it when you order me around.’
She smirked, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving him to groan into his own hands with the effort of not following her.
After being firmly denied her suggestion of a gentle swim before they left, Nina remained quiet and on edge for most of their journey as they travelled north along the Spanish coast. Resisting the urge to ask the hundred burning questions that entered her mind, she almost picked through the skin on the beds of her nails as they began to move further and further away from the city.
Going without heavy exercise for two days straight might not be much to most people, but, as someone used to a certain amount of challenging physical activity per day, the lack of release was rapidly sending her anxiety levels through the roof.
Sophie had sent her a number of probing texts to see if she was doing okay, her trainer likely remembering how easily Nina had slid into burnout after her neck injury a couple of years ago. The long period of bed rest and slow torturous rehabilitation had been painful on so much more than just her injured body. She had always known that she didn’t cope well with slowing down, but now, looking at her difficulties through a new lens, she realised that it was possible her neurodivergent brain actually needed to keep busy. That maybe it was okay that she relied so heavily on having measurable goals to focus on and tasks to hit in order to feel any semblance of balance. Perhaps there was no need to feel so ashamed of how rigidly she clung to her schedule. Much like the temperamental vehicles she drove, if she stopped too suddenly, she risked fully losing control.
‘Still cranky?’ Tristan asked, breaking her out of her own thought spiral.
For once she was actually grateful for the distraction. ‘Just trying to ascertain if you always drive at this speed, or if you’re crawling along in the slow lane just to irritate me.’
He smirked, his hands drumming a beat on the wheel as he slowed even further. ‘Maybe I like to enjoy the scenery when I travel. Live in the moment.’
‘Well, you’ll have a lot of scenery to enjoy, seeing as we likely won’t arrive until tomorrow.’ She pressed the button on the dash to try and find some music to distract herself, only to be met with her least favourite big summer dance tune. She winced, turning the volume back down.
‘My radio, my rules,’ he scolded, turning the dial back up and singing along with the overdramatic tune. He sang well, annoyingly well. Of course he had been blessed with the voice of a fallen angel as well as having the looks of one. Still, she had to turn her head to watch as he bellowed the fast-paced Spanish lyrics, describing the famous singer’s scorn after her lover had strayed. He knew every single word. She thought of how intensely he’d reacted after her accident.
Was it possible that he actually wasn’t quite the paragon of calm that he pretended to be? This man sang the song with a quiet passion that made her skin prickle and her heart throb. He felt the lyrics. Too soon, the song came to an end and she felt as if she’d just witnessed yet another tiny glimpse beneath the mask of Tristan Falco. Something even wilder and more intense than the devil-may-care playboy he presented to the world.
The Falco estate was as grand and exaggerated as she expected it to be, with a sweeping tree-lined drive that seemed to go on for miles before the actual house came into view—well, Tristan had referred to it as a house but as they grew closer, she could hardly believe her eyes.
‘Is that a freaking castle?’ she asked.
‘The main house dates back to the seventeenth century, yes.’ Tristan smiled. ‘My uncle had a flair for the dramatic, and once he saw this place nothing else would do.’
Nina had grown up in luxury and was no stranger to the opulent grand estates of wealthy families, but the Falco estate was nothing like she had ever seen before. After parking in the middle of a grand courtyard, complete with legitimate antique marble statues and a manicured garden that would make a king weep, Tristan greeted the couple who managed the estate year-round and linked his arm through Nina’s as they were given a grand tour.
He introduced her as his fiancée, of course, which the housekeeper and her husband acknowledged with delight, asking if the wedding was to be held upon the estate. Without missing a beat, Tristan mentioned that his mother would likely insist it took place in Buenos Aires. It was just part of their ruse, she reminded herself. But still, hearing him mention their non-existent wedding plans shifted something in her stomach.
Her sense of awe quickly overrode her unease at their deception as she was guided through the most stunningly preserved historic estate she had ever seen. She was given the full history by the very animated groundskeeper, his wife interrupting every now and then to correct him if he got the dates wrong. The majestic manor house was located in the most exclusive area of Barcelona’s north coast, less than an hour from the city centre. Surrounded by beautiful garden and lush forests, it was gloriously private with breathtaking views of the Mediterranean Sea. They were shown around more than ten spacious suites inside, then guided outside where there were a large ballroom and chapel hidden in some lush forest, as well as a long swimming pool and a handful of smaller villas.
The main building was comprised of several outbuildings that formed a fortified enclosure. It had been reformed over time while preserving and enhancing the architectural wealth of the original stone features. Its charm lay in the perfect fusion of its historical character with the more modern touches that added comfort and luxury.
Tristan seemed on friendly terms with the staff, which surprised her considering she had read he’d grown up mostly in Buenos Aires with his mother, with the exception of his teenage years when he’d attended a boarding school somewhere in Europe. She knew so little about him, she realised.
The couple didn’t live on the estate, she learned, they instead ran a small restaurant in the nearby town along with their grown-up children. They invited them to come for dinner that evening, before bidding them farewell and leaving them alone.
‘So this place just sits here empty, year-round?’
‘My mother has held a few events here over the years but, yes, since my uncle’s passing, no one has lived here. This was his home and he commuted to the Falco headquarters every day. He even converted one of the villas on the property into a home for me. He loved it here. He had horses and dreamed of running his own personal tours for the public, free of charge, when he retired.’
But when they reached the end of the stables where a large building bridged off in a long rectangle, Tristan paused. Nina looked up, not missing the shutters that seemed to instantly come down, hardening his handsome features.
‘His garage,’ he said, reaching into his pocket to extract a key and placing it in her palm. ‘He had a few cars, so, while we’re here, you may as well select which model you would like to use for tomorrow.’
‘You don’t want to choose it with me?’ she asked, confused.
He shook his head, already turning away. ‘I need to do a walk around of the few setting locations while there is still light. The magazine’s team will be here early in the morning; it will save us time if they know where to set up.’
She nodded, watching him stride across the lawn. The doors to the garage were automatic and slid upwards with ease once she turned the key. She had only a few seconds of squinting into the darkness before lights flickered on overhead one by one, until the entire cavernous space was lit, revealing much more than the small collection of cars Tristan had intimated was in there.
Nina’s heart pumped in her chest as she began to walk along the rows, not quite knowing where to look first as she was met with what had to be around fifty perfectly preserved classic cars. Each one of them bearing her family’s symbol on their bonnet.
‘My God,’ she whispered, spotting a particular model given pride of place on a raised podium at the end of the hall. For a moment she contemplated dropping to her knees, feeling as though she had entered a hallowed space of some sort. She supposed, to people who worshipped cars, it didn’t really get much better than this.
The first edition Roux Motors coupe was one she had never actually seen in person, as only five had ever been built. Two had met their fate in fiery crashes in various parts of the globe and the other two that she knew of had been sold to collectors’ museums in Asia. This particular car had passed through a number of nameless private owners, as far as she knew. It had been the car used in a very famous film with an equally famous lead actor playing the role of a spy.
She ran her fingertips along the buttery soft column of the steering wheel, noting the fresh smell of leather polish and the lack of dust upon the bonnet. If this garage had been left unattended for as long as Tristan had said, that meant he was employing someone to keep them valeted. A person would only do that if they also cared about the vehicles within. No harm would come from letting a collection like this gather a little dust. But she could tell by the gleam on each of the cars, and the scent of pine in the air, that this collection was beloved. Polished and ready for display, as though the previous owner had never left.
The way Tristan had spoken of his uncle, the fact that he had been given his own home on the property... It spoke of a very close bond between the two men. Tristan had even said he’d been more like a father to him. And to think that Tristan had almost lost his life in the same aeroplane accident that had killed someone so important to him... It was more than she could bear thinking of.
When she finally tracked him down, he stood in the courtyard with an impressively large camera in his hands as he surveyed a particularly ragged-looking fallen tree trunk in the woodland that bordered the property.
‘You see one you liked?’ he asked, the sound of the camera shutter flicking periodically as he changed view and moved back and forth a few steps.
‘I feel like I just went to church.’ She came to a stop by his side, peering over his shoulder to take in the image he’d captured of a butterfly landing on one of the craggy branches.
‘I thought you’d feel that way. Half of all the Roux Motors’ models ever made are in there, if not more,’ Tristan murmured, clearing his throat as he continued to glower down at the fallen tree. ‘He was only missing four that he wanted, before he...well, before. When the news broke that your father was selling his collection, he was one of the first to bid.’
She pursed her lips, remembering that chaotic time when her father’s scandalous gambling debts and impending bankruptcy had been all over the news. The Falco plane crash had happened that same week. In another universe, how might it have gone if instead of Alain taking the helm, Tristan’s uncle had bought them out and preserved Roux Motors with all of the passion she’d felt in that garage?
‘He used to joke that he would name the first car he produced the Dulce Diablo after my mother. My mother always teased him for his collection and how much time he spent there, leaving all the party invitations to her. But he was obsessed.’
‘I would have got along quite well with him, I’d imagine,’ Nina mused, sitting down upon the thick trunk of the fallen tree. ‘We’d have shared a bond in our fascination over cars and engines...and you.’
‘You’re fascinated with me, hmm?’ Tristan asked, holding the camera up to his eye again and flicking the shutter a few times.
‘I am. Hopelessly so.’ Nina felt the air shift around them from his difficult past, the sunlight dappling her skin as if to remind her that she was in fact here right now. Living in the moment, as he’d said before. He was so tense, so burdened by the memory of being here in this place. Maybe she could help him with that, give him some new, happier memories. Making the decision to be brave, she slid down one strap of her dress.