Taken by the Highest Bidder

“You won’t have to quit. You’ll die first!” And she left the bedroom then, grabbed clothes from the dresser on her way out, determined to go elsewhere, sleep elsewhere, determined to escape the fire and fear burning inside her heart.

Sam ended up sleeping in one of the guest rooms, although she didn’t actually fall asleep until three. It was late when she woke up, and the villa was quiet.

Going downstairs Sam bumped into Marcelle in the kitchen. “Where is Gabby?” Sam asked, putting the kettle on for tea.

“With Mr. Bartolo.”

“Are they in the garden?”

“No, Madame. They’re at the Automobile Monegasque, but should be back in an hour for lunch.”

Sam had a cold sick sinking feeling in her gut. “What is the Automobile Monegasque?”

“The track, Madame.”

“Track?”

“Um, the facility where Monsieur practices.” Marcelle held her hands up as if on an imaginary steering wheel. “Practices…drives.”

“Yes, I understand.” But Sam didn’t. At least she didn’t understand why Cristiano was there now, on a Sunday morning, with Gabby in tow. “I just didn’t—” She broke off, swallowed her criticism. “Is the facility far from here?”

“No, Madame. Quarter of an hour by car.”

“Can you take me there?”

It was the longest fifteen-minute drive Sam could remember. Marcelle, still buoyant from yesterday’s glamorous circus party, was reliving the highlights and Sam nodded when needed, murmuring appropriate responses even as she struggled to suppress her turbulent emotions.

Relax, she told herself. It’s not the end of the world if Cristiano takes Gabriela to the track. Gabriela would probably enjoy watching the action on the racetrack but even then, Sam felt deeply disapproving. Racetracks were no place for children, much less young children Gabby’s age.

Marcelle walked Sam through the private entrance reserved for drivers and crew, escorted her down to the track and pointed out a white car as it zoomed by.

“There they are,” Marcelle said. “That’s an Italia Motors car, you can tell by the insignia, and the number—that’s Monsieur’s number.”

Sam nodded distractedly, looking around for Gabby. “But where’s Gabriela? Who’s watching her?”

“Oh, Madame, not to worry. She’s with Monsieur.”

“With Cristiano?”

“Oui, Madame. In the car.”

It might have only been five minutes before Cristiano pulled into the pit and opened the door, allowing Gabby to scamper out, but for Sam it was a lifetime.

Every possible thought went through her head, every possible emotion swept her, every possible scenario had played out.

Heart in her throat, Sam watched them approach. How could he do it? How could he be so stupid? So selfish? How could he put Gabby in the car with him?

Gabby spotting Sam, shouted her name and waved. Cristiano smiled, let Gabby’s hand go so she could race to Sam’s side.

Shaking, Sam grabbed blindly for Gabriela, settled her arms around Gabby’s neck and shoulders. “How could you do that?” Sam demanded once Cristiano was at her side. “How could you do something like that?”

Cristiano hesitated, his smile fading. “I just took her for a drive—”

“But not at 200 mph!”

“I wasn’t going 200 mph. I wasn’t even going over 100.”

Sam’s legs felt as though they were going to give out. “Where was she sitting?”

“In my lap.”

“Your lap.”

Gabby twisted away, looked up at Sam. “He was teaching me to drive.”

Sam wanted to laugh, she felt nearly hysterical. “Oh, that’s just marvelous. Gabby turns five yesterday so now it’s time to teach her to drive?”

“It’s not the first time, Sam,” Gabby answered seriously. “I like driving.”

“Not the first time?” Sam crouched down, looked Gabby in the eye. “What do you mean this isn’t the first time?”

“It’s not. I come here with Cristiano before school sometimes.”

“No.”

“Sam,” Cristiano said. “Let’s not put her in the middle of this.”