matter what she said or did from now on, she hadn’t hidden her attraction to him.
Surrounded by the inky blackness of the night, Gio downed the rest of his beer in a disgusted gulp. When he’d stood in front of Valentina...and she’d looked at him. Cristo. He’d been so hot and hungry for her that he’d imagined her looking at him as if...as if she wanted to kiss him, or for him to kiss her.
He’d been so close to pulling her into him, tipping up that chin, running a thumb across the silky skin of her jaw and cheek.... He’s almost done it, and then he’d seen her sway slightly...with fatigue, not lust.
Thank God he hadn’t completely lost it and misread her signals. The last thing he needed was to add one more thing to Valentina’s hate list for him.
THE FOLLOWING EVENING Valentina was in foul form. It had been a tough day; everyone’s nerves were on edge as they put together all the elements for the Corretti Cup. There were many more staff now, all labouring in their various departments. Event micro-managers were making sure all the areas were kitted out. There was one central dining area where a set menu buffet lunch would be served every day for the main crowd.
Then there was the unbelievably opulent cordoned-off vast VIP marquee area, set in its own landscaped gardens, which had the sit-down à la carte menu, and where each evening a champagne reception would be held as the last races were run.
On the last night there would be a gala ball which would include a charity auction. All the staff had been kitted out with security passes for various areas. Valentina had received one for all areas. She was supervising both the main and VIP areas and Gio was adamant that the buffet diners shouldn’t feel like they were getting a second-rate service.
It had surprised her; she’d expected him to be more concerned with the VIP section but he’d been almost disdainful of that as he’d led the group of his chief organisers around that morning, making last-minute notes. Some people were paying into the thousands for tickets into the VIP marquee, or for a corporate box at the stadium stand. Valentina had also been surprised to learn via one of the other staff that all of the proceeds of the Corretti Cup VIP ticket sales were going to various charities Gio supported locally.
On top of all of that she knew he was dealing with the arrival of hundreds of horses for the races. Some of the most expensive and valuable bloodstock in the world was now at the Corretti stables along with an accompanying heavy security presence. The place was buzzing with grooms and cleaners and decorators and assistants.
Gio had been nothing but utterly professional to her all day, and distant—he’d barely looked at her that morning during the walkabout meeting. He’d treated her exactly the same as the others, who’d all been feverishly taking notes. She should be happy; she should be delighted that the previous evening appeared not to have had any effect on his behaviour towards her. She should be ecstatic he was practically ignoring her!
So why was she so out of sorts? She was two days away from the most important opportunity of her career and she couldn’t afford to mess up or get distracted.
Thoroughly disgruntled, Valentina went to see her parents after work and brought them some food she’d prepared. They wanted to hear all about the lavish preparations at the racetrack as it was all anyone could talk about in Syracuse. It was the biggest annual event attracting thousands of tourists. It shamed her a little to realise just how much Gio was doing for the local economy.
When she was walking out about thirty minutes later, her mother stopped Valentina in the corridor. ‘Gio came to see us yesterday. He’s been very good, making sure everything is on track for the operation.’
Valentina’s voice was instantly tight. ‘Did he? That’s nice.’ Another surprise—in the midst of his busiest time of the year he was taking time to visit her parents?
Her mother shook her head, her dark eyes compassionate. ‘Valentina...he has suffered too—don’t think that he hasn’t. You’re not the only one who lost Mario that night.’
Valentina’s own sense of building guilt mixed with her mother’s gentle admonition made her unbearably prickly. She turned to face her. ‘Did he, Mama? Did he really suffer? What about when he was cavorting on yachts in the south of France? Or making millions off the rich and idle gamblers in Europe? Or perhaps he suffered when he was staggering out of casinos at dawn in Monte Carlo with a bimbo model on each arm?’
It took Valentina a second to notice that her face had gone pale. ‘Mama?’
Her mother was looking over her head and the hairs went up on the back of Valentina’s neck. Slowly she turned to see a grim-faced Gio standing behind her. He had a bunch of flowers in his hand. Valentina gulped. He stepped up beside her, a face like thunder, and handed the flowers to Valentina’s mother. And then he looked at Valentina, eyes so dark they looked black.
He took her arm and bit out, ‘You and I need to talk.’ And then he was pulling her unceremoniously from the clinic. Fear and trepidation was uppermost in Valentina’s belly now, not even anger, although she’d never let Gio know that. She’d never seen him so angry. When they were outside he all but flung her arm away from him and faced her. Six foot two of bristling angry male, muscles rippling. He was a sight to behold.
Valentina backed away. ‘I’m not going to talk to you when you’re like this.’
‘When I’m like what?’ he almost roared. ‘You barely talk to me any which way. I can’t do anything right.’
Suddenly a wave of emotion came over her and terrified he’d see it in her eyes Valentina walked quickly to her car which was nearby. She heard a muffled curse but got in quickly and locked her doors. She was trembling all over when she pulled out of her car space and it got worse when she hit the open road and saw a familiar dark silver sports car behind her with a broad-shouldered figure at the wheel.
Gio was following her. It had an immediate effect on her body. A wave of heat made tiny beads of sweat break out over her top lip and between her breasts underneath her shirt. Her hands were sweaty on the wheel and her little car wheezed and panted as she pushed it over the speed limit. She ignored Gio flashing his lights behind her. All she knew was that she had to get away from him. Her emotions were far too volatile to deal with him right now. She felt as if she was on the edge of a precipice.
When she pulled into a space at the racetrack with a screech of brakes a few minutes later, Gio was right behind her. He slammed on his breaks too, sending up a shower of gravel and dust. He sprang out of his car, ripping off dark glasses. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at? You could have caused an accident!’
Valentina was shaking with all the strong emotions running through her. ‘You know all about accidents, Corretti, don’t you? Just stay away from me.’
He sneered. ‘Oh, it’s like that, is it? We’ve gone about two steps forward and three hundred back?’
Valentina clenched her hands to fists, her blood thumping in her head, making it spin. ‘I quit, Corretti, OK? This isn’t working. I should never have come to you in the first place.’
She started to stride away towards her accommodation fully intending to pack and leave and then felt a much larger presence beside her. He took her arm in his hand. Again. It was too much; she yanked free and glared up into his face. ‘Don’t touch me.’
Suddenly Valentina became belatedly aware of people stopped in their tracks around them, watching avidly. Gio noticed too. Grimly he took her hand instead, in a grip so tight it bordered on being painful, and said, ‘Not another word, Ferranti. We’re taking this somewhere private. We are not done.’
* * *
Valentina was tight-lipped and white-faced by the time Gio was opening a door on the same floor as his offices. Her hand was still clamped in his and the way his much larger hand engulfed hers was far too disturbing. He finally let her go when he opened