Page 5 of Driving the Billionaire Wild

She waited only a moment before following him, and he felt the bands around his chest loosen slightly once he’d got her back inside the warmth of his home and instructed his butler to take her to a private sitting room to give her some space until lunch was served. He took the stairs two at a time up to his own bedroom, feeling a renewed thrum of adrenaline heating his body at the prospect of wining and dining his guest.

He had initially been surprised by the powerful attraction he felt for the English PR expert, considering how far she was from his usual type. Sure, she was beautiful, and had a curvaceous body that had immediately set his mind to sin the moment he’d first seen her. Usually, he preferred his entanglements to be with women who enjoyed the same fast-paced lifestyle that he did, with adventure and thrills being his main point of focus whenever he wasn’t training and competing.

Astrid, on the other hand, seemed to him to be a complete workaholic, with very little time for spontaneity or mischief in her jam-packed schedule. She had a no-nonsense attitude, and had made it very clear from the get-go that she never got involved romantically with her drivers. She was sharp-tongued, uptight and polished and for some reason those details had only solidified his attraction to her even more, making him wonder in how many ways he could unwind the knots in her perfectly straight spine.

Perhaps her appearance here today was fate, he mused as he stepped into the bathroom and undressed, surveying the swathe of tattoos he’d accumulated over the past few years once he’d been away from his grandfather’s strictinfluence and obsession with image. He hardened at the memory of how Astrid had stared at his body when he’d stood up from the ice bath. She’d looked at him with so much intensity…as though seeing him for the first time.

Could it be that his prim and proper PR lady was finally ready to admit she wasn’t immune to his charms after all? A smile formed on his lips as he stepped into the large waterfall-shower stall and blasted the water on hot.

Perhaps the one perk that might have come from this inheritance fiasco was that, as of today, he was no longer one of Astrid Lewis’s drivers. She no longer had that excuse as to why she denied the obvious attraction between them. She was now free to do as she wished…and that possibility had him speeding up as he went through the motions of getting dressed.

* * *

The dining room of Apollo’s home was just as lavish as the rest of the mansion she’d seen so far. With a wall of windows providing stunning views of the lake, the marble tiled space was bright and simple with accents of colour in the modern paintings that lined the other three walls. She sat quietly at the end of a grand dining table where an elaborate feast had been set out that would easily have fed ten people. Although, perhaps the excess was necessary, she thought ruefully as she watched Apollo devour two helpings of the tender Tuscan baked chicken and rosemary potatoes, along with an entire side plate filled with steamed greens.

She, on the other hand, merely picked at her food, despite it being utterly delicious. His chef, a kind-faced older Italian woman, had seemed delighted by Astrid’s sudden appearance and had already come out once to seeif the food was to her liking before retreating back to the kitchen area. Guilty at her lack of appetite, Astrid forced herself to take another large mouthful of chicken and felt Apollo’s eyes follow the movement.

‘Eat up; we kept the dungeons underneath the estate for a reason.’ He smirked, reaching across her to grab the jug of water. At Astrid’s shocked look, he laughed low and huskily in his throat. ‘Chef Linnea won’t be offended if you’re not hungry, so relax.’

‘The food is wonderful… I’m just out of sorts today.’ She pushed away her plate and focused on sipping the iced lemonade she’d selected from the drinks trolley. Part of her wished she’d selected something a little stronger. Her insides still hadn’t quite recovered from that strange moment of déjà vu in the gym and, as Apollo began casually to discuss the gym renovations he’d had installed in the house, she struggled to focus. She knew he was making small talk for her benefit. He was smoothing the way before getting into the difficult subject of how to rectify the PR situation that she had been sent here to tackle.

But she had an entirely different problem now, one that involved a certain scar and its connection to a night she had long ago decided to forget.

Perhaps…it wasn’t him.

Perhaps the stress of her journey to Italy had induced some kind of emotional hysteria and she’d been pulled back into the memory of the one night in her entire life in which she had allowed herself to lose control completely. Of course, she had been in Italy many times since that fateful stormy night in Venice, but maybe her intuition was off. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe…

Memories of that night washed over her: memoriesof strong hands soothing the anxiety from her shoulders as they spoke softly in the dim light of the broken-down lift. She’d been twenty-one, and it had been a few months after the break-up with her first boyfriend, Ian, and their disastrous, short-lived engagement. She’d craved freedom and something that was all of her own choosing instead of her parents’. At some point, soft conversation with her masked stranger had turned into frantic kissing, undressing and pleasure such as she’d never experienced in her only other sexual relationship, which had been mediocre in comparison. She’d walked away, confident in her anonymity, considering the only reason she’d been in Italy was as part of a random challenge in her very first Elite One internship to try to win a golden helmet statue in a secret auction.

That one night had changed the course of her life in every way possible. First, she’d failed to get the helmet and had wound up trapped for an hour in a dark lift with a stranger. They’d used protection, but somehow it must have failed, as against all odds she’d discovered she was pregnant. She’d tried to find her mystery lover by enquiring from the same Venetian hotel, but she’d fallen foul of guest confidentiality clauses.

She’d been sheltered and naïve, and had gone from being the good and dutiful daughter of fiercely traditional parents to being a complete pariah. Perhaps that was why she’d decided to hide her pregnancy for much longer than she should have in her brand-new job for one of the mid-league racing teams. One of their drivers, Grayson, had discovered her secret and become an unlikely friend and ally, demanding she be given a permanent contract as part of his personal media team with full maternity pay, andtaking her up the ranks with him as his fame had grown and other teams had vied for his attentions.

She’d moved with him to Falco Roux just as their team’s PR operation was crumbling. She’d taken the helm, becoming their youngest head of PR by the time Luca was two. She’d maintained a dignified silence on the circumstances of Luca’s conception, only ever saying that the father was not in the picture. But she refused to regret it; that one scandalous experience that had given her the greatest gift she’d never known she needed.

She inhaled a deep breath, doubt flooding her mind even as the details glared at her. This could all be a wild coincidence, right? Surely she should try to confirm her suspicions and find out if Apollo had been there that night in Venice? Then, only then, would she try to tell him the reason why she’d nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of that oddly distinctive scar, enhanced by a clever tattoo.

Would he even believe her?

As though he sensed her inner turmoil, Apollo stood and suggested that they move their drinks to his private study so that the staff could tidy up. The summer sun was high in the sky, a light breeze making small waves glitter beautifully across the lake. She followed along the narrow corridor, feeling as if she were in a dream…or perhaps a nightmare would be more accurate. This man was her assignment, for goodness’ sake. Her boss had all but told her that the company’s reputation hung upon her convincing Apollo to stay with the team and release a statement squashing the rumours.

If she questioned him about a random encounter, and if she was wrong about it having been him, she’d be humiliated. But she couldn’t even begin to think about howit might affect Luca’s and her future if she was right. She prized her simple life with her son, their home in London and her career. They were thriving in their new routine and everything seemed to have fallen into place.

Apollo’s study was an impressive space, with a slightly darker colour scheme than the rest of the house. One side of the room was dedicated to a large wooden desk and a wall of books and filing cabinets, while the other half of the room seemed to be a meeting space of sorts with sumptuous sofas and a monitor with a sleek video-conferencing set-up in the wall.

She remembered seeing this room in the background during one of their press briefings, as she had studiously tried to avoid staring at the small square on her laptop where his attention had been intensely focused upon her. She had always been so keenly aware of him. Most drivers squirmed during meetings, bored by the business side of the sport they loved, but Apollo was a businessman at heart, as evidenced by the large sportswear brand he had been steadily building during his absence from the sport.

An absence, she suddenly realised, which had begun the same week she’d been in Venice for the auction. He’d walked away from his grandfather’s team after a heated argument—over what, nobody knew—and had never returned. Her stomach tightened even more.

At the sound of her name, Astrid’s attention snapped back to the present and she saw that Apollo had taken a seat on the sofa and was beckoning her to join him. Nervous energy hummed through her veins as she took a seat on the opposite end from where he sprawled, his dark eyes surveying her with keen interest.

‘Is this your only home in Italy?’ she asked, sliding outher tablet from her briefcase and blinking at the image of her son she kept as her screensaver. Gulping, she tapped open the crisis management plan she’d studiously compiled on the flight over and tried to calm her thundering heartbeat. Crisis management indeed; there was no handy list or bullet point plan to navigate how to find out if her work crush was actually the anonymous, scorching-hot encounter that had resulted in her becoming a single mother.

‘I have many properties, but none I’d call home,’ Apollo replied lazily, one arm extended across the back of the sofa towards her. ‘This was the first estate I purchased in Italy. My father lives here most of the year. I do, however, keep my collections here.’

He gestured to a wall behind them, one she must have walked straight past on her way in. The ornate glass shelves formed a modern art installation all by itself, but along them at stylish intervals sat trophies and statuettes, a mixture of his own achievements and art works. And in the very centre…

Astrid choked on the sip of water she’d just taken, tears filling her eyes as she caught her breath. ‘The…the golden helmet. You have it.’