‘You’re not foolish enough to have forgotten the warning I gave you all those years ago, are you?’ he asked, again with that low, deadly voice.
I swallowed, clenching my fists when the wave of dizziness returned.Shit, shit, shit. I should’ve taken the time to eat a chocolate bar or a piece of fruit.
My gaze flicked to the door.
He saw, and his face clenched tighter. ‘Give it up. You’re not getting out of here without giving me answers, Maddelena.’
Very few people called me that. My mother, when her fear spilled over and she clutched her rosary tighter, her eyes imploring or seeking salvation that never came.
I will pray for you tonight, Maddelena.
You should come to church with me, Maddelena.
I warned you what happens when you challenge your grandfather like that, Maddelena. Look at you now.
Her voice didn’t send my insides into freefall as Cesare Salvatore’s did, though.
‘You’re not a very good liar, Maddelena,’ he continued. ‘And it looks like you’ve only gotten worse over the years.’
Shit. I bit the inside of my cheek. My only option was to remain silent.
‘Tell me who you think it might be.’
I snorted. ‘And watch you tear through my team like a shredder through paper? Fuck no.’
His head tilted a fraction, and the light above him bathed his glossy hair and five o’clock shadow in soft light, highlighting his raw, panty-melting hotness. ‘What makes you think I won’t do that anyway?’
I struggled to regain my focus. ‘Because you want to keep racing. And like it or not, you’re in a legitimate organisation with rules even you can’t evade.’
The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘You think I won’t find a way to get what I want?’
The sense that the question entailed more than finding a mole was strong and visceral enough to douse me in shivers.
‘I’ve already uncovered one more culprit,’ he added.
Shock jolted me, propelling my feet closer to him before I even clocked I’d moved. ‘You have?’
‘Hmm.’ He took another lazy sip of his drink. ‘I had an interesting conversation with the official who gave me that ten-second penalty at the last race. Specifically about the quarter of a million euros that magically appeared in his wife’s Swiss bank account the morning of the race. And the fact that he resigned the very next day citing non-existent health issues.’
It took every ounce of composure to keep my jaw from sagging. Was he lying? Because if he wasn’t… if his allegations were true…
I started to shake my head, then stopped when a wave of dizziness surged through me. Frantic, I reached for the back of the sofa closest to me.
Cesare charged across the room, his hands grasping my arms, preventing me from dropping in a shameful heap at hisfeet. Much like he had that first time. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he barked.
I barely managed to suppress a gasp as his touch seared me. As memory crashed like two meteors colliding.
Cesare Salvatore was touching me for the first time since that night in a field in Connecticut. Since he’d whispered filthy things in my ear, believing he was saying them to a stranger.
Since he’d recoiled in furious horror when he’d realised he’d just made out with his enemy’s granddaughter.
6
MADDELENA
He shook me once, his brows turning darker shades of black thunder. ‘I asked you a question.’
‘I’m hypoglycaemic.’
