THEY raced at night in Qatar because it was too hot during the day. Renzo stood in the paddock in full leathers, wearing a baseball cap until it was time to put on the helmet and climb onto the shining red-and-white Viper, and talked with the press. Paddock girls pranced around in tight dresses and heels, carrying big umbrellas, but he barely noticed them even when one or two of them purposely came near and shot him coy smiles.
They were sexy and alluring, but they were not Faith. Dio, how he missed her. It had been a week since she’d left him, and he’d been miserable just about every moment since then.
She’d told him she loved him, but she’d lied. If she had truly loved him, she wouldn’t have left him. And she wouldn’t have given him an ultimatum.
His leg ached today, but it ached every day. She was right that he’d kept that from her, just like he’d kept it from everyone. But he was used to the aching. Aching was nothing. Muscle cramps, on the other hand, were a bit more problematic.
He’d been training hard, working the muscles, and he hadn’t had an issue in any of the test runs. He would not have an issue today, either.
Faith did not understand that he had to do this. He appreciated that she’d been concerned for him, but if she’d truly loved him, she would have supported him. She would be here with him instead of back in New York, working for one of the other officers in D’Angeli Motors. She’d said she would leave the company and find another job, but he wouldn’t let her do it. He’d sent her back with a glowing recommendation, and had heard that she’d been put to work in one of the senior vice president’s offices.
He would see her again someday, when he returned to New York to oversee the U.S. operations, but that day would not be anytime soon. Perhaps she would have found someone else by then, a man who could appreciate her and love her for the remarkable woman she was.
His gut twisted hard at the thought of another man loving her. Loving his Faith. He held up his hand to signal the end of the interview and turned and walked away.
He had to get his head into the game today. He could not keep thinking about Faith, about her silky blond hair and her sexy curves, about the way she smiled at him, and the way she hugged that silly cat and said the most ridiculous things to it.
She’d left Lola behind, and he thought it had probably broken her heart more than leaving him had done. But she’d told him, while she stood there with tears in her eyes and hugged the cat close, that Lola would be happier in Tuscany. She had a big house to run and play in, and people there to take care of her. In New York, she’d live in an apartment and be alone most of the day while Faith worked.
Renzo had promised that Lola would have the best care and that she would always have a home with him. Faith had seemed satisfied by that, though she’d quickly put the cat down and walked away after he’d said it.
Out of his life and into the car that would take her to the airport.
He’d been glad he still had Lola after she was gone. The cat slept with him, curled next to his body like a fuzzy rumbling heater, and he sometimes reached over and stroked her soft fur and thought of Faith lying in bed with him and doing the same thing.
Dio, what was wrong with him? Was he a man? Or was he a toothless beast who’d enjoyed cuddling up to a woman and a cat in the middle of the night?
“And where’s the lovely Faith today? I had thought she would be by your side, hovering over you like a mother hen until the start.”
Renzo looked up to find Niccolo Gavretti sneering at him.
“Faith is not here,” he said shortly. He would always despise this man, but he somehow couldn’t find the energy to care much today.
“Ah, I see.”
Annoyance slid through him at the other man’s tone. “Do you?”
Niccolo shrugged. “We are alike, Renzo. We enjoy women, and when we are finished enjoying them, we move on.”
Renzo ground his teeth together. “Faith is not just any woman,” he said. “And if you ever touch her, I will destroy you.”
Gavretti laughed. “If you’ve discarded her, Renzo, I can hardly see why you’d care.”
Renzo took a step toward him, and then stopped, fists clenched at his sides. Gavretti just smiled a slick smile, eyes gleaming in challenge.
“You aren’t worth it, Nico.” He pulled in a deep breath that was filled with the scents of motor oil and fumes, heard the roar of the crowd in the stands and the growling whine of engines being tweaked and tuned—and he felt empty.
It didn’t fill him with elation the way it once had. His blood wasn’t pumping hard in his veins, adrenaline wasn’t rushing through his body, and he wasn’t eager to climb onto the back of the Viper and roar around the track with a pack of other men who were also determined to win.
His lungs filled again with the scents he loved, but again he felt empty. He didn’t care. If he rode the Viper to victory or not, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what he thought. What he felt. He had nine world titles, a thriving company and a woman who loved him.
A woman who loved him.
He cared what Faith thought, he realized. He cared a great deal what she thought. It was a revelation to him, a sudden parting of the clouds so that the sun could shine down fully upon him and show him what a fool he’d been. What an utter idiot he was still being if he didn’t go after her and beg her to forgive him.
Renzo spun from Gavretti without another word and stalked toward the exit. He had to get out of here, and he had to find Faith and tell her how he felt before he lost her forever.
Faith was frantic. She’d been flying for hours and now she was rushing through the crowd at the Losail Circuit, trying to get to the paddock before the race started.
She’d had to come. She’d been in New York, working and trying to forget that the first race of the season was about to happen. But she’d realized as she sat at her desk and refreshed her computer for the zillionth time, learning the layout of Losail and studying the course, that she’d made a mistake.
She needed to be with Renzo, no matter what happened. No matter what her fears were, it hadn’t been fair to ask him to choose between her and the races. She understood that now, and she needed to tell him.
“Matteo,” she screamed when she saw the D’Angeli crew chief. She was almost there, but hands were barring her way, stopping her from reaching the D’Angeli team. She’d gotten this far because she still had the cell phone numbers of some of Renzo’s team on her phone. She’d called Matteo from the airport in Doha, praying it wasn’t too late. He’d promised to get her through to the staging area.
The noise was deafening. The crowd was screaming, the motorcycles were being tuned, and the paddock teemed with reporters and women in tight dresses who paraded around and smiled for the cameras.
“Matteo,” she screamed again—and miraculously, his head popped up, his eyes meeting hers across the distance separating them. He spoke to someone, who came rushing over to extract her from the people holding her back. After a hurried conversation over her credentials, she was free and rushing toward the staging area.
“Where is he?” she asked when she reached Matteo’s side. The gleaming Viper was gorgeous, its red-and-white paint scheme shiny, the sponsor decals prominent against the surface. She expected Renzo to be standing proudly near the beast, but he was not.
Matteo shrugged. “Not sure, signorina. He was here a minute ago.”
She turned in a circle, looking