Chapter 18 #3
‘Don’t roll your eyes at me,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ll put you on your knees so you can roll them while I fuck your throat.’
My cheeks heat violently and he laughs, low and wicked. Then smacks my backside lightly as he gets up. ‘Come on. Get dressed. We’re leaving for Monza in twenty minutes.’
My pulse stutters. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Fuck yes, I am,’ he says, tugging a shirt over his head. ‘You’ll get a front row view of how incredible I am.’
‘You mean your ego?’
‘And my car.’ His grin widens. ‘And you watching me handle both.’
I groan into my hands.
He cackles like the devil himself.
* * *
I hide my relief well when I see we’re not going alone.
The bodyguards we came here with, who I discover are all part of the Salvatore mafioso security, accompany us.
After hugs from my sisters and stern instructions not to fuck around too long from Cesare, we leave Ortigia in a small convoy of four SUVs, Renzo behind the wheel of ours.
We drive through rolling green hills, morning sunlight spilling across vineyards and olive groves, everything smelling of warm earth and distant sea. I crack my window, letting the wind tangle my hair.
Renzo watches me more than the road. ‘You good?’ he asks.
‘I think so.’
‘You look it.’
I feel it too. Maybe it’s hope. A hunger for life. Or curiosity and wonder at a world that’s no longer behind walls and vows. And fear, yes – but not enough to stop me.
My third ride in a helicopter isn’t as terrifying as the first, especially with most of it spent in Renzo’s lap, succumbing to his lazy kisses and heated glances.
We transfer to another set of SUVs, and as we turn down a narrow road lined with cypress trees, the sound hits me first.
Engines.
Growling, snarling, singing.
I inhale sharply as the gate to Furia Racing’s Italian HQ opens, and the sight steals my breath.
Sleek black-and-red trailers, bright sun flashing off polished metal. Mechanics in branded suits.
And engines roaring like caged dragons.
Renzo kills the engine of our SUV and I realise my entire body is tingling with anticipation. When I turn to him, his grey eyes are sparkling.
He might be a Salvatore capo down to his very bones, but here… this is where he comes alive.
‘Come on,’ he says, opening my door before I can. ‘Want to show you something.’
He leads me past the pit lane with his hand firm on my lower back, his stride confident and long. Mechanics greet him with nods, bows, a murmured capo or signor. They stare after him with a mixture of pride and awe.
He’s famous and respected here, and he knows it.
He’s leading the driver’s world championship and he’s at the top of his game.
It’s all very… intoxicating and my heart beats faster as Renzo pauses by a sleek, wicked, near-black F1 car with the team’s iconic green stripes.
His car.
‘Giada,’ he says softly, almost reverently as his fingers stroke the carbon-fibre chassis, ‘meet the only thing that rivals you for space in my head.’
I swallow, not sure whether to be jealous or to laugh as I watch him slowly circumvent the exquisite car. ‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘And you’re blushing.’ When he reaches me, he steps behind me, nudging me closer until I have to brace my hands over the cockpit headrest to keep my balance. Then his arms bracket me as he leans down, lips brushing my ear. ‘You like my car, baby?’
I do. God help me, I really do. I like everything about this man.
My head bobs as I swallow.
‘One day, very, very soon, I’m going to fuck you on it. Make you come all over it so I can smell you when I cross the finish line. And you’ll let me, won’t you?’
I’m about to nod again when a sudden stab of fear pricks my spine – sharp, cold, wrong.
I stiffen.
He feels it instantly. ‘What?’ he asks.
‘Nothing. I just—’ The pain behind my eyes flares again and I grip the side of the car for balance.
‘Giada.’ He turns me in his arms. ‘Breathe.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not. Fuck, we should’ve brought Conti.’
I pleaded for the doctor to be left behind. Renzo only relented so the man could be packed and transported to the safe house with the others.
Now, I see regret in his eyes. But his voice is gentle in a way that strips me bare when he tucks my hair behind my ear. ‘Tell me.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not sure. Just a little sensory overload, I guess. Too fast. Too full.’
He cups my cheeks with both hands. ‘Angel, look at me.’
I do. His beautiful eyes pierce mine and everything else falls away.
‘You’re safe,’ he tells me quietly. ‘You hear me? With me, you’re safe. We go as fast or as slow as you want. No pressure. No matter what weasel is sniffing around or what memory claws at you.’
A tremor runs through me. ‘I know,’ I whisper.
He kisses me once then, sliding his tongue between my lips, uncaring of the personnel standing around. I’m shaky but weirdly settled when he rests his forehead on mine.
‘Good. Because I need you better so I can make that fucking fantasy come true.’
I laugh breathlessly. He smirks like he’s already imagining corrupting every part of me. ‘Renzo?’
‘Mmm?’
I reach behind me, rest my hands on the side pod of his car, then allow myself to caress it for a moment. I can practically feel the horsepower leap beneath my fingers. ‘I want to see you drive.’
He inhales sharply. ‘Say it again.’
I do.
And the look he gives me could melt steel.