The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(31)
A moment longer and the pursuit died away in the distance. All that was left was the faint rumble of the Ferrari’s engine, the small creaks of cooling metal and the quiet breathing of the man beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We are in the parking garage for an apartment building owned by my company. The supervisor is a good man, fast on the uptake, even faster on his feet.”
“You told him to open the garage door.”
“A trick that has worked before,” he said with the shift of one shoulder. “I should also apologize for the necessity of it. I knew we could not avoid them forever, so should have made arrangements.”
“I don’t know what else you could have done.”
“Taken a heavier vehicle like the limo, put security guards in place, arranged for stand-ins for the two of us as decoys — any number of things. I suppose I thought interest in Carita’s accident was fading. She’s never been a part of the fast crowd, never—”
“Never been involved with anyone like my brother,” Amanda finished for him, her voice even.
“You think the paparazzi persist because of him.”
She stared at him in the gloom. “You think it was because of the De Frenza name?”
He lifted a shoulder again.
“My brother has no small amount of fame as a race car driver.”
“But not as much as he will now have for almost killing a member of my family.”
“Fine,” she said, her voice trembling with delayed reaction that was fast turning to anger. “Take the blame if you must, though Jonathan has been a target before, as were my father and mother. Right now, I’d like very much to return to the villa, preferably in one piece.”
~ ~ ~
Nico watched the woman beside him, a shadowy figure stiff with irritation and so lovely in her courageous self-possession that he could hardly keep his hands off her. Most women he knew would be screaming wrecks after such a high-speed chase. Amanda Davies appeared no more affected than if it had been an amusement park ride. She was even willing to extend a certain amount of praise for his success in eluding their pursuers.
It was amazing, how that good opinion warmed him, in more ways than one.
Her lack of reverence for his family name was annoying, as was her refusal to acknowledge its attraction to those who made a living hounding the rich and famous. It was also refreshing beyond words. He was willing to concede that some part of the lure for the paparazzi was her brother’s feats on the race track, added to her father’s fame, but he knew well it was Carita’s presence in the car that had gone off the road which attracted them.
He would give much to know if Amanda Davies truly doubted that or was only pretending. To find out seemed a worthwhile object.
“You do realize photos of the two of us leaving the hospital will be front and center on the majority of newspapers and all the tabloids of Europe tomorrow.”
“I suppose.”
“And you know what the headlines will say?”
“That we were visiting Jonathan and Carita, what else? I hope they don’t manage to sneak into the hospital.”
“Neither Carita or Jonathan will be disturbed as they’ll have security from now on,” he said with a brief gesture toward his mobile. “But whatever may have brought out the jackals, their photos will show my arm around you and yours around me. Their headlines are certain to put us in bed together.”
She searched his face while hot color bloomed across her cheekbones. “That’s obscene.”
“But also inevitable.”
She closed her eyes, opened them again. “Surely something can be done.”
“Not at the moment. A little damage control may be arranged later.”
“Damage control of what kind?”
“It depends,” he answered in deliberate evasion. There was no point in discussing it until he was certain. He went on with scarcely a pause. “Before the excitement, I’d thought we might stop for lunch on the way back to the villa. It still seems a fair option.”
“You’re hungry?”
“Being chased does that to me. What can I say?”
She sent him a quick glance, but apparently decided to ignore the suggestion beneath his words. “Are you certain we won’t be ambushed again?”
“I will do my utmost to see it doesn’t happen.”
She ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, releasing its tangles. Leaning back in her seat, she tested her seatbelt then propped an elbow on the door frame. “You’re driving.”
He gave a low laugh; he couldn’t help it. He was ridiculously pleased that she was willing to trust him after their wild ride, to accept that he could and would elude any further efforts of the paparazzi to run them to ground.
He made another call. The wide garage door in front of them, a mirror image of the one behind them through which they had entered, slid up on its oiled track. Beyond it was an alleyway. Nico put the Ferrari in gear and drove out into the warm afternoon sunlight.
~ ~ ~
So Nico was going to act as if nothing had happened that he couldn’t fix, Amanda thought as they threaded once more through the streets of Florence. Was that for her sake, to make certain she calmed down? Or was it an example of the machismo she’d read about, the masculine need to prove he was in control? She stared at the road rushing toward them while she tried to work it out, but could settle on no answer.