Other than a text saying how much he’d enjoyed their date, Darius deliberately left Nathalie alone for a few days to think things through. She’d told him she wanted time. So he forced himself to give it to her, even though the need to hear her voice was like an ache inside him.
As for Zion, Darius didn’t want her brother to think he’d been forgotten, so they’d talked cars over Skype a couple of times, and had emailed, as well. Darius figured that Nathalie must be reading his emails because she’d said Zion sometimes needed help with the computer. He didn’t use big words, but everything was spelled correctly, as though Nathalie had made him run spell check before hitting Send. Darius enjoyed Jeremy’s emails. He was always upbeat, always excited about whatever car picture or information Darius sent him.
What a way to live, seeing only the good.
Needing to wait a few more minutes until midnight to make his call to Italy, Darius spent the time
thinking about Nathalie, a pastime that had become almost like breathing. She’d been perfect on
their date, from beginning to end. She’d looked—and tasted—like a fantasy. He knew he could
have pushed for more in the wake of their kiss, could have stripped her bare in the moonlight, could
have tasted her soft skin everywhere and taken her straight to heaven. But despite how much he’d
wanted to do just that, he’d also known it meant risking any ground he’d gained with her over
dinner.
And even though they’d only just met, he wasn’t willing to chance losing Nathalie.
Instead, he wanted to know her—wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her sigh, what
heated her up, and what cooled her down.
Sitting alone in his office, he had to fight the urge to call her. Three days, and he’d missed her like
hell. He’d never called a woman just to hear her voice. Darius enjoyed women, of course. But it had
always seemed that one female was much the same as another.
Until a smile—and a kiss—from Nathalie had rocked his world.
Lord, he loved the way she’d practically dived on him, with no restraint, no hesitation. He knew her
focus was on Zion and her job, and that her needs always came second to those. But for a few
moments when she’d been in his arms, nothing had held her back.
At least, not until she’d realized how fast they were going, hitting the gas harder than any race car
driver ever had. Darius loved speed, lived for it, knew he needed the rush to keep his secret
darkness from spiraling out of control again the way it had when he was a teenager. But though
speed clearly called to Nathalie, too, she fought like hell against it. He understood her reasons in the
wake of her brother’s and parents’ crashes, and yet he couldn’t help but want her to embrace the
rush and the thrill again with him. The same way she’d embraced him for those few precious
moments by the aqueduct—with nothing held back.
The truth was, however, that Nathalie wasn’t the only one who needed time. Darius needed it, as
well, to force himself to think through his own intentions from all angles.
He’d never romanced a woman before, never pursued one with unwavering focus. The press
assumed it was because he was a player, and thankfully they’d never dug deeply into his reasons for
keeping all of his relationships on the surface. He’d never let the women he’d been with before
Nathalie get close enough to find out his real story, either.
But if he pursued Nathalie—if he romanced her, and also helped her tap into that secret well of
wildness and passion that he believed ran deep and true inside of her, the way his every instinct
demanded—how long would he be able to keep his past hidden? How fast would she leave him if
she ever found out what he was really made of and the sins that tainted his soul?
He wished with everything he was that he could rewind the clock, back to that day with the Black
Knight when everything had spiraled so far out of control. But he couldn’t have a do-over. He
hadn’t saved that kid. He hadn’t saved the Black Knight.
And he sure as hell hadn’t saved his own soul.
Darius couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Nathalie in any way. He would never forgive himself if
he did. And yet, everything inside of him rebelled at the thought of letting her walk permanently out
of his life. Somehow, he needed to find a way to get closer to her while still keeping her safe.
He’d walked a lot of fine lines in his life, but he had a feeling this one just might be the trickiest
line of all. Not to mention the most important.
Darius computer beeped. Midnight. Time for his call. He clicked it into life and a grizzled face
appeared on the screen.
“Mr. Spencer, I hope you are having a pleasant evening. I received your email. And the
attachments.”
Though he lived in Italy, Manuel Rossi was French, and his lilting accent had turned to gravel with
age and cigars. He could have been anywhere from fifty to eighty. His skin was slightly sallow and
dark pouches bloomed beneath his eyes. But he was the best of the best. After getting his contact
info from Hector, Darius had researched the man. Manuel had been a master craftsman at Maserati
Alfieri 1960—a miracle worker.
Darius had a miracle of his own he wanted the man to perform. “Can it be done, Manuel? Can you
make me a Maserati Alfieri 1960 kit?”
“Of course it can be done, Mr. Spencer.” He sounded almost offended. “It is only a matter of
money. And time.”
“Money is no object. And I’ll pay to have it as quickly as possible.”
“You understand I will have to coordinate my work with commissioning the engine, transmission,
and other parts. It is not a small undertaking, Mr. Spencer.”
“That’s why I’ll pay you whatever you need to get it done. We can start with the chassis and sheet
metal pieces. Then I’ll need to lay in all the wiring. You can take longer to get the engine and
transmission. Tell your crew I’ll give a bonus for early delivery.”
The older man wagged his head, staring down at the schematics Darius had sent. “These will have
to be modified for what you want.”
During the past couple of days, Darius had combed the Internet for a similar racing model. What he
wanted, though, was much more specialized. “You’re the only man who can do this.” It wasn’t
flattery, it was true.
“I will try, Mr. Spencer, but my shop has customers.”
Manuel’s shop was damn near a factory. He was the largest employer in his small town. He had a
reputation for overseeing every project like a hawk. Darius had a feeling the man would be so
intrigued by the project that he’d do a lot of the work himself.
“I’m willing to pay to get this design first in line. I’ll even pay your customers a wait fee, if that’s
what it takes.”
“You make an offer a man cannot refuse. But what is the penalty if I discover I cannot deliver on
time?”
There was always a penalty clause. But Darius was asking for a miracle. “No penalty. Just give me
your honest estimate, and I’ll work with that. Keep in mind that this is a present for a teenage boy.
And I don’t want him disappointed.” Which was why Darius would approach Nathalie about the car
after it was a done deal. He didn’t want to get Zion’s hopes up only to crush them later.
Manuel nodded gravely. “Your son is a lucky boy.”
“Not my son. A friend.”
“Then he is very lucky to have a friend like you. I will do my best. You will hear from me by the
end of the week.”
Darius was the lucky one. For the first time in years, he felt major excitement stirring in his gut. It
was partly the new project. It was partly doing something that would mean so much to someone
else. It would be the look on Zion’s face when he invited the kid to help build the Maserati Alfieri
1960.
But most of all, it was Nathalie.
* * *
Working from home, Nathalie’s Thursday morning had been so full with phone interviews and follow-ups for her recruiting company that she hadn’t even folded the weekend’s laundry. Too often, she didn’t finish putting away the previous week’s clean clothes before she had to wash the current week’s dirty ones.
She pushed her hair out of her face as she stared in dismay at the mess in the family room. On the
coffee table, Zion’s coloring book and crayons were a hodgepodge of color. The kitchen bar was
littered with papers, lists, notes, and several days’ worth of junk mail. She really needed to weed out
the important stuff and toss the rest. But housecleaning was always at the bottom of the to-do list.
This afternoon, she told herself. And this time she meant it.
Now, where was the Sevilla resume? She could have sworn it was on the dining table, which served
as her desk. Back in the dining room, she sat down at her computer to reprint the resume.
She hadn’t been quite this disorganized in the past when she’d gone into an office every day, but at
home things sometimes got away from her. Zion often dropped his notebook on top of her work,
and he’d been known to accidentally grab her papers along with his homework. He’d also been
using the computer to email Darius, who had come up with the brilliant idea to use Skype, too.
Darius.
He always told Zion to tell her he said hi, but Nathalie hadn’t spoken directly to Darius since their
dinner at Martini’s. Not since she’d thrown herself at him by the water temple...and then completely
freaked out.
She was still embarrassed at the way she’d acted on their first—and only—date. Throwing herself
at a man, and then flip-flopping back to being stone cold, wasn’t like her at all. She wanted to
apologize for her behavior at the same time that she wished she could forget all about it.
In any case, it was very nice of Darius to continue corresponding with Jeremy even though he
didn’t want to go out with her again. And it was all for the best that they didn’t become more deeply
involved, of course. It was taking everything she had to keep her and Zion’s life together as it was.
She didn’t need to add a complication like Darius Spencer to her personal life.
Unfortunately, just because she didn’t need something didn’t mean she didn’t want it...
“Okay, stop thinking.” Especially when her thoughts were going round and round in circles about a
man she could never have. “You’ve got work to do.”
She’d just found the resume buried deep in her email inbox and was about to print it out again when
the doorbell rang. She glanced at her watch. Had she forgotten an appointment? Or maybe it was
Tanya?
Nathalie opened the door to find Darius standing there, beyond scrumptious in a dark suit, charcoal
shirt, and black tie. He had been mouthwatering in jeans, but in a suit and tie...oh my...he was
downright edible. She felt the impact, and the heat of him, low in her belly.
Like a match striking to life with a sizzle and a hiss.