Living the Charade(33)

Tom inclined his head in a brief nod. 'We're good.'

Tino felt a parody of a smile twist his mouth. He nodded at Tom, kissed his mother's cheek and left them to admire the view.

The urge to throw down a finger of whisky was intense. So was the need to find Miller.

Tino did neither.

Instead, he took the lift to the ground floor and hailed a cab to the only place he'd ever found real peace.

His car.

The tight security team at the Albert Park raceway were surprised to see him, but no one stopped him from entering.

Not ever having been in the pits this late at night, he was surprised  with how eerie it felt. Everything was deadly quiet. The monitors were  off, the cars tucked away under protective cloth. The air was still,  with only a faint trace of gasoline and rubber.

He threw the protective covering off his car, pulled the steering wheel  out and climbed in. His body immediately relaxed into the bucket seat  designed specifically to fit his shape. The scent of moulded plastic and  polish was instantly soothing.

After re-fixing the steering wheel, he did an automatic pre-race check on the buttons and knobs.

Then he thought of his father and the times he'd watched him do the same thing, remembering the connection they had shared.

He released a long breath, realising that he had always felt superior  to his father because he'd kept everyone at a safe distance. He'd  believed it to be one of his great strengths, but maybe he'd been wrong.

A faint memory flickered at the edges of his mind, and he let his head  fall back, stared unseeing at the high metal ceiling. What was his mind  trying to tell him...? Oh, yeah-his father had once told him that when  love hit you'd better watch out, because you didn't have any say in the  matter. You just had to go for it.

Tino's hands tensed around the steering wheel. His father hadn't been  weak, as he'd assumed, he'd been strong. He'd dared to have it all.  Okay, he'd made mistakes along the way, but did that make him a bad  person?

In a moment of true clarity, Tino realised that he was little more than  an arrogant, egotistical shmuck. One who didn't dare love because he  was afraid to open himself up to the pain he had experienced at losing  his father.

For years he'd truly believed he was unable to experience deep emotion,  but now he realised that was just a ruse-because Miller had cracked him  open and wormed her way into his head and his heart.

Damn.

Tino banged the steering wheel as the truth of his feelings for her  stared him in the face. He loved Miller. Loved her as he'd never wanted  to love anyone. And ironically he was now faced with his worst  nightmare. Forced to face the same decision he'd held his father to  account for so many years ago.

For so long he had resented his father for refusing to quit, but he'd  had no right to feel that way. No right to stand in judgement of a man  who'd been driven to please everyone.

Like Miller.

Tino felt a stillness settle over him.

He could hear tomorrow's crowd already, smell the gasoline in the air,  the burn of rubber on asphalt, feel the vibration of the car surrounding  him, drawing him into a place that was almost spiritual. But despite  all that he couldn't see himself doing it.                       
       
           



       

He could only see Miller. Miller in the bar in her black suit. Miller  tapping her toes by the car as she waited for him to pick her up. Miller  completely wild for him on the beach, in his bed, staring at him with  wide, hurt eyes in the ballroom as the light from the chandeliers lit  sparks in her wavy hair.

God, he was more of an idiot than Caruthers. He'd had her, she'd been  his, and he'd pushed her away. Closed her down as he'd done all week  whenever the conversation had veered towards anything too personal.

Levering himself out of his car, he knew he was saying goodbye to a  part of his life that had sustained him for so long, but one that he  didn't need any more.

He didn't care what the naysayers would say when he pulled out of the  race tomorrow. For the first time ever he had too much to lose to go out  onto the track. For the first time ever he wanted something else more.

The signs had been there. Or maybe they hadn't been signs, maybe they'd  just been coincidences. It didn't matter. When he closed his eyes and  thought about his future he wasn't standing on a podium, holding up yet  another trophy. He was with Miller.

Miller who had stalked off with tears behind her eyes.

Where was she?

He doubted she'd organised the jet to fly back to Sydney at this late hour; she was too considerate to disturb his pilot.

Likely she was still at the hotel. But he'd bet everything he owned she'd arranged for another room by now.

* * *

Miller felt terrible. Beyond terrible. Walking away from Valentino's  offer to travel with him had felt like the hardest thing she had ever  done in her life. Even harder than leaving her father behind in  Queensland all those years ago.

She was in love with Valentino and she was never going to see him  again, never going to touch him again. There was something fundamentally  wrong with that.

Travel with me. Come to Monaco next week.

Had she made a monumental mistake?

Miller looked down, half expecting to find herself standing on a  trapdoor that would open up at any minute and put her out of her misery,  but instead all that was there was designer carpet.

She sighed. This morning she had woken in Valentino's arms and felt  that life couldn't get any better. TJ had signed Oracle to consult for  his company before finding out what Valentino's decision about Real  Sport was, and the powers-that-be had requested a meeting with her first  thing Monday morning. Which could only mean a promotion because, as  Ruby had pointed out, no one got fired on a Monday.

But the idea of a promotion didn't mean half as much as it once might  have. Not only because her priorities had changed over the course of the  week, but because she felt as if all the colour had been leached out of  her life. Try as she might to pull herself together, it seemed her  heart had taken a firm hold of her head and it was miserable. Aching.

She'd known falling in love would be a mistake, and boy had she ever  been right about that. Love was terrible. Painful. Horrible.

She had accused Valentino of keeping himself safe from this kind of  pain, but of course it was what she had always done as well. Keeping her  hair straight, wearing black, hiding herself away at her work in an  attempt to control her life. None of it had been real-just like her  relationship with Valentino.

Only towards the end it had felt real with him. Had become real without  her even noticing... She'd fallen in love and he hadn't. Which just  went to prove the law of relationships: one person always felt more.

And now, sitting on Valentino's plane as his pilot ran through the  preflight check, still wearing her beautiful, frothy dress, she felt  like the heroine from a tragic novel.

She sniffed back tears and wondered if she had time to put her casual  clothes on. And then she wondered what was taking so long. Surely she'd  been sitting on the tarmac for over an hour now?

The whoosh of the outer doors opening brought her head round, and she  was startled to see Valentino's broad shoulders filling the doorway.

Like her, he hadn't taken the time to change, and he looked impossibly  virile: his bow tie was hanging loosely around his neck and the top  buttons of his dress shirt were reefed open.

Miller swallowed, her heart thumping in her chest. 'What are you doing here?'

Valentino stalked inside the small cabin. 'Looking for you. And I have to say this is the last place I tried.'

'I told Mickey not to tell you.'

'He didn't. My pilot did.'

He looked annoyed.

'I'm sorry if you're upset about me commandeering your plane at this  hour. I felt terrible doing it. But all the hotel rooms were booked and  Mickey insisted...'

'I don't care about the plane. And stop moving.' Miller stopped when  she realised she was stepping backwards. 'Where are you going, anyway?'                       
       
           



       

'The pilot stowed my bag in the rear cupboard. I was just going to get it.'

'Leave the damn bag.' He dragged a hand through his hair and Miller realised how tired he looked.

She swallowed heavily. 'Why were you looking for me?'

Had she forgotten something? Left something in their room?

'Because I realised after you left that I loved you and I needed to tell you.'

'You...what?'

He came towards her again and Miller's back bumped the cabin wall. Her senses were stunned at his announcement.

Valentino stepped into her personal space and cupped her elbows in his  hands. 'You heard right. I love you, Miller. I've spent my whole life  convincing myself it was the last thing I wanted, but fortunately you  came along and proved me wrong.'

Miller tried to still her galloping heart. 'You told me that racing was all you ever needed.'

'Which shows you that you need to add stupidity to my list of flaws.'