He smiled his cool predator’s smile. “I am sure you will, bella.”
He crossed the room to her side, tilted his head back to study the painting of a weeping Madonna. It was a beautiful picture, dark and lovely, with the most vibrant blues and golds that made Mary stand out from the rest of the scene.
“If you wish for a change, lovely Faith, I am certain we could have a good time together. I promise I would not leave you to amuse yourself while I caroused with my buddies.” His silvery eyes fixed on her and she shivered. There was nothing but coldness behind that gaze. Ruthlessness.
Another time, before she’d fallen in love with Renzo, she might have been flattered. But she knew Niccolo’s goal in approaching her now that she’d been caught between them once before. He only wanted to annoy Renzo. It had nothing at all to do with her.
And she wasn’t tempted anyway. Far from it.
“I don’t like change,” she said, her voice a touch sharp. “If you will excuse me.”
He laughed. “You have only to let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Her pulse raced as she brushed past him, but he didn’t try to stop her. She headed for the noise of the more-populated areas of the museum. As soon as she stepped out of the gallery, she ran into Renzo. Her heart thumped.
He was frowning. “I’ve been looking for you, cara mia.”
“And now you’ve found me,” she said brightly. Too brightly, because his gaze sharpened. Damn Niccolo Gavretti.
“What have you been doing all alone, Faith?”
“Looking at paintings,” she said. “They are really quite amazing.”
She heard footsteps behind her, and knew precisely who it was. Knew what Renzo would see and what he would think. And she suddenly didn’t feel like pretending anymore. She’d done nothing wrong, and if he couldn’t trust that she hadn’t, then she wanted to know it.
“Ciao, Renzo.”
He stiffened. She could see his entire body go rigid, his eyes flashing fire. “Nico,” he replied, his voice cold in spite of the angry heat in his gaze.
“I’m looking forward to our match in Qatar.”
Renzo vibrated with anger. “I’m not sure why. The Viper is far better than anything you’ve designed lately—assuming you haven’t stolen anything that does not belong to you.”
Niccolo’s eyes flashed. “Still banging that drum, Renzo?”
“We both know the motorcycles are not your true passion. It’s simply another way to spend your father’s money and stay out of the way doing it, si? You could not design an original bike if your life depended upon it.”
Niccolo smiled, but it was a flat, lethal curving of the lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Arrogant as always, Renzo. I’ll enjoy watching you fail.”
Renzo’s jaw could have been carved from granite. “I won’t fail.”
“You might.” Niccolo strolled toward them, his hands thrust casually into his pockets. Then he stopped and let his gaze slide to Renzo’s thigh. “If your leg continues to give you trouble, who knows what will happen?”
THEY left the party soon after and returned to Renzo’s apartment. Renzo did not speak during the short car ride, and Faith didn’t quite know what to say. She wanted to defend herself, to say that she hadn’t told Niccolo Gavretti anything, but she couldn’t speak. Every time the words formed on her tongue, they wouldn’t come out.
Because if she spoke, if she denied it, she sounded guilty. She looked guilty, considering that she’d been alone with the man he hated—the man he’d accused of stealing from him—and she was the only one who knew he’d been having trouble. Except, clearly, she was not the only one. Someone else knew, or had at least guessed.
She wanted Renzo to trust her, to believe that she wouldn’t tell anyone his secrets.
And yet he was silent.
She waited for him to say something, to ask her to explain, until she couldn’t wait anymore. Until they climbed from the car and stood in the darkened street with the cool Tuscan air making her shiver and pull her wrap tighter.
“I didn’t tell him, Renzo.”
He looked at her over the roof of the sports car. “I did not say you did.”
But he sounded cold.
Her heart burned and she felt hot, in spite of the chill. “No, you didn’t say anything.”
His gaze pinned her, and she knew that he was fighting with himself, that he did in fact think she might have betrayed him.
It hurt more than she’d ever realized it could. How could he possibly think such a thing of her?
They climbed the stairs to his apartment and went inside. Faith removed her wrap and draped it over a chair. Then she kicked her heels off and waited.
“Niccolo Gavretti is not to be trusted, Faith,” he finally said. “He will do anything to win, including cheat. He will tell any lie, use any grain of information. You should not talk to him. Ever.”
Her stomach twisted. There was certainly more to the story than he’d ever told her before. And if he was going to accuse her of betraying him, then she felt she deserved to know. “What happened between you?”
She wasn’t sure he would speak. She watched a hint of sadness chase across his features. But then it was gone, and in its place was the usual fury she saw whenever he spoke of Niccolo.
“We were friends once. Long ago. He knew what my dreams were, what I was planning to do with my designs. Instead of backing me as he promised, he started his own business—with designs remarkably similar to mine.”
“He stole from you.” It made her sick, and angry. She wanted to punch Niccolo Gavretti’s handsome face herself.
“He would love nothing better than to destroy me. I think it would soothe his guilty conscience to know he’d won in the end. Which is why you should not talk to him.”
She touched his arm. “I didn’t tell him anything, Renzo. Anyone who saw you that first day on the track could have surmised what was happening. You fell to your knees. A lot of people saw it.”
His expression grew hard. “You accuse one of my people of spying on me?”
Pain squeezed her belly tight. “Why not? Or am I the only suspect?”
He shoved a hand through his hair and swore. Then he ripped off his bow tie and shrugged out of the bespoke tuxedo jacket. “I know you wouldn’t say anything deliberately, Faith. Nico is quite good at extracting what he wants to know.”
If he’d stabbed her in the heart with a rusty knife, he couldn’t have hurt her more. “I’m not an idiot, Renzo! I didn’t say anything to anyone. Ever. Not even accidentally!”
“You could have implied—”
“I implied nothing,” she shouted. Fury held her in its cold grip. How could he think she would betray him, even unintentionally? She wouldn’t, not ever. Her body shook with the adrenaline pulsing through it.
Renzo stared at her for a long moment. She didn’t know what he would do, what he would say—but then he came over and gathered her to him. She stood stiffly in his embrace and refused to soften even while she swallowed angry tears.
“I’m