His large hands gripped my shoulders as I let out a low groan, rubbing my nose. My gaze locked onto his, more intense than ever.
"Sorry," he said, blinking before releasing me. He was close. Very close. So close my chest almost brushed his torso. When had he gotten that close? When had he even followed me? My wariness of him deepened. Few people could surprise me and he had done it so effortlessly. Or maybe the past few years spent in Miguel's garage had softened me. Unlikely. You didn't forget things like that. It was like riding a bike.
"It's nothing," I muttered, trying to move past him but it was impossible. He filled the entire doorway, his head nearly brushing the top frame. "Mind moving, Goliath?" I finally growled, lifting my bored gaze to him. He watched me for a moment, and I frowned when I caught something unusual in his eyes. Hesitation? Hesitation for what exactly?
He eventually stepped aside, shoving his hands into his pockets, and I walked out of the room only to be stopped by Mario, who handed me a small envelope.
"There are documents in there that will help Miguel," he informed me, his gaze fixed everywhere but on me. I sighed but took the envelope, slipping it into my bag before moving past him toward the exit.
"Thanks for the help," the old man muttered. I didn't answer. I opened the door, welcoming the cool air with a relieved sigh when a dark voice echoed behind me once more. I glanced over my shoulder and met Mamo's gaze.
"Get home safe, David." He smiled, and I nodded before stepping outside, closing the door behind me. Finally. Free.
I woke up the next morning after a long, well-deserved sleep and got ready for the showroom. I slipped into a straight-cut white dress that fell just below my knees. I had bought it for the occasion two days ago with Mrs. Taylor during our walk. It had a square neckline that revealed just enough, and two wide straps met at the back of my neck, giving the dress a more elegant, structured look.
I slipped on my white heels, then draped my black blazer over my shoulders. I wasn't about to stroll down Madison Avenue in a cocktail dress, I was saving that for the VIP evening. I gave myself one last look in the mirror. Light makeup, my hair pulled into a bun with a few loose strands framing my face. I was pretty proud of the result.
Three hours later, after marveling at every car like a child tasting their first box of chocolates, I stepped into the VIP evening on the terrace of a luxury hotel. I showed my ticket to the guard at the entrance, handed my blazer to the cloakroom, and took the numbered tag before entering the large reception hall. I narrowed my eyes at the sheer display of luxury.
Well… they certainly liked showing off. Then again, why wouldn't they?
I grabbed a glass from one of the trays circulating among the guests and moved slowly through the crowd. My gaze first settled on the small orchestra playing a lively tune. It reminded me of Sunday evenings when I was a kid. Dad used to take us to a little restaurant with live music, and every time, he would invite Mom to dance. The memory pulled a smile from my lips as I looked away, only for my gaze to land on the Holy Grail.
A Ferrari Monza SP2.
It was displayed inside a glass case, and it was breathtaking. Its body gleamed in a vibrant red, paired with sleek anthracite rims. I stepped closer, my eyes tracing every curve of the car as what felt like my tenth internal orgasm hit. I was in love with this car.
And with the Mustang I'd seen on Madison Avenue.
And with that Lamborghini Huracán.
The owner of that last one crossed my mind, and I inhaled sharply, tightening my grip around my glass. Those damn dimples. His hair. His broad shoulders. And his scent. That damn scent still lingering in my senses.
"Sei venuta a finirmi, David?" a voice suddenly murmured to my right. I frowned, recognizing the voice. How could I not recognize a voice like that?
I turned slowly, and my gaze fell on Mamo's profile as he stared at the Ferrari behind the glass. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and looked nothing like the man I had met the day before. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his custom trousers, his broad shoulders relaxed as he turned his head toward me, a faint smile playing on his lips. I blinked, my gaze lingering on his dimples, and for the first time in my life… I felt my cheeks warm.
Me? Blushing? Please.
I cleared my throat, turning my attention back to the beauty I had come to see. I refused to let myself be charmed again by… whatever it was he carried.
"Sorry, I didn't learn Italian in my sleep," I replied flatly, taking another sip of my champagne as the bubbles danced on my tongue. What the hell was he doing here anyway? Then again, it made sense. He was clearly as obsessed with cars as I was. It would've been stupid not to come.
"I asked if you came to finish off your Goliath," he said, and I caught him turning toward me from the corner of my eye. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, feeling his eyes on my profile.
"I like cars," I said simply, shrugging one shoulder. "Fast cars," I added, licking my lips before stopping myself from pressing them together when I noticed his gaze drop to them. What the hell was this tension? Where was it coming from?
It was dangerous.
He was dangerous.
And I didn't need danger in my life.
"Enjoy the evening…" I started, stepping back to leave, but he stopped me. His hand suddenly rested against the small of my back as he stepped closer. I froze, slowly lifting my gaze to his. His face had lowered toward mine.
"You're beautiful, Diavoletta," he said, his dark eyes locking onto mine as he leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against my forehead. "And you smell devilishly good," he added, inhaling softly before pulling back, his gaze gleaming. His hand against my back burned. It made me burn. But I had decided not to let myself be charmed again.
So I nodded slightly and stepped back, letting he s hand slide along my hip before releasing me.
"Thank you. You look very elegant too," I returned, and he smiled, slipping his hand into his pocket. "Is your car working?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. Bad idea. His gaze immediately dropped to my neck, sliding along my throat and collarbones. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes. As if he were staring at prey he wanted to devour whole. And I wasn't the kind to be devoured. Even if the idea was… tempting. Especially when it was him. I would let him devour me.
Oh shit. What the hell was I thinking?
"The Huracán?" I added, raising an eyebrow as I searched for his gaze. When it met mine again, I saw his jaw tighten.
"It's running perfectly," he replied, his voice low. "Not surprising, since you fixed it with your fairy hands. More than my tools could ever do," he added lightly shopping his hands before puting them back. Though there was nothing light in the way he was looking at me. "I didn't expect to see you here." I shrugged, turning back toward the car. My gaze drifted to the driver's seat, and a memory resurfaced. A picture of me and my father.
He was sitting in the driver's seat, and I was on his lap, both of us smiling at the camera.
"I came for her," I finally admitted, crossing my arms as I slowly swirled the last of my drink in my glass. "I have a picture of me and my dad in there from when I was a kid." The words slipped out before I could stop them. I needed to say it. Only Alma had known about that story.
And… I felt alone. Since Alma died, I had felt so alone. No one truly understood what I was going through. No one could. So I needed someone else to know this memory.
"So you got your passion from him," Mamo said, turning toward the car as well. "He's lucky to have a daughter like you. Is he around? I'd like to meet him." I let out a soft snort, a sad smile tugging at my lips.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," I said, finishing my drink before placing the empty glass onto a passing tray. "He died a long time ago." My voice turned dull, distant. He didn't reply, but I felt his gaze settle on me again.
"Anyway… I just wanted to take advantage of being in New York to see her," I added, turning away after one last look at the Ferrari. "I should head back. I've got an early flight tomorrow."
"It was nice meeting you, Mamo Goliath," I said with a faint smile, extending my hand. His gaze dropped to it. He raised his own but instead of shaking it, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling me gently toward him. My body brushed against his, his scent flooding my senses as my nose nearly grazed his white shirt.
"Meet me behind the hotel in ten minutes," he whispered against my ear, like a secret. Then he pulled back quickly, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it, winking. His lips were warm and soft against my skin.
I frowned as he released me and walked away without another glance.