Taken by the Highest Bidder

It was crazy, absolutely crazy. Charles and her parents were killed in car accidents and she was so scared of cars, and scared to drive, she hadn’t driven a car in years. She didn’t even like being a passenger in other people’s cars. And yet who did she fall in love with?

A Grand Prix driver.

Curled in the chair on her balcony, Sam dragged the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, burying her chin in her blanket-covered knees.

She couldn’t believe she’d given Cristiano an ultimatum.

Worse, she couldn’t believe he’d accepted it.

What a fool she was. Not just for giving him an ultimatum, but for missing him as much as she did. Because even now, in late March, she found herself still waiting for his Italia Motors sports car to appear, or the phone to ring and discover it was Cristiano on the line.

But he didn’t call her. He didn’t communicate directly with her. He sent messages, terse e-mails, conversations and discussions through Marcelle who had somehow—and this was perhaps one of the hardest things to swallow—become Gabriela’s new nanny.

It was Marcelle who chauffeured Gabby to the parties and playdates that began streaming in once people knew that darling little Gabriela, was actually Gabriela Bartolo.

It was Marcelle who updated Cristiano on Gabby’s progress in school and extracurricular activities.

It was Marcelle who advised Cristiano when Gabby seemed tired or a little under the weather.

Sam might resent Cristiano for cutting her so completely out of his life, but she did admire his devotion to Gabby. He called her daily, no matter where he was on the road, as attentive to her now, as when they all lived together. Three weeks ago he was phoning Gabby from Australia, ten days ago it was Malaysia, and now Bahrain.

He was doing well on the road right now, too. He took first in Australia, third in Malaysia and first again in Bahrain. Sam might have a broken heart, but Cristiano was on a roll.

Less than a week later, Cristiano was back in town. She hoped she’d see him, maybe have a chance to talk to him when he collected Gabby for the weekend, but she didn’t even know he’d been at the villa until Sam saw Marcelle walking Gabby out to the car.

Cristiano didn’t linger. He took off once Gabriela was buckled up and Sam watched the two people she loved best in the world disappear for a weekend together.

She was truly on the outs. And it hurt. And the hurt didn’t get better, it was just getting worse.

I’m so lonely, Sam thought. I’m lonely and lost and this is how I felt when Charles died, only no one’s died. Cristiano was very much alive—traveling and working and racing and being interviewed on television.

How ironic that she, who hated cars and racing, now watched everything she could about the Grand Prix.

No, he wasn’t dead. He was just moving on with his life, and excluding her from it.

Sam tried to distract herself that weekend while Gabby was with Cristiano. She took walks down to the water, walks into the village, walks through the Rothschild garden and museum.

But the walking didn’t stop her from thinking, and it didn’t stop her from feeling.

Sam loved Cristiano like mad. She missed him so much she felt shattered inside. It wasn’t one thing she missed, it was everything.

She missed the way they talked late at night with the TV turned down low.

She missed the way they used to smile at each other over Gabby’s head when she said something particularly funny.

She missed his sexy voice, his even deeper, sexy laugh.

She missed the way he touched her low on her back.

She missed the way when he hugged her, he’d bring her so close and her insides would flip—eager, responsive, excited.

She missed making love—God, she missed making love.

She missed the life she’d had with him…even if it had been brief.

Shaking her head, she tried to chase away the pictures filling her head, pictures of him, and her, and them together, pictures that were tormenting her heart.

If only she hadn’t lost so many people in her life. If only she were a different person altogether.

Sam drew a deep breath, battling for her famous British stiff upper lip, the one Cristiano had teased her about, but if only he knew, the lip wasn’t very stiff.

The lip, as a matter of fact, was trembling.