Living the Charade (16 page)

Miller forced herself not to be intimidated by his frown. ‘Because I don’t like being dishonest and I like your family.’

‘This thing stopped being fake the minute we had sex and you know it,’ he growled.

Miller’s hopeful heart skipped a beat. Did he mean that? Could his black mood be because he had strong feelings for her and just didn’t know how to express them?

‘What is it, then?’ She knew she was holding her breath but she couldn’t help it.

He raked back his hair in frustration and glowered at the glittering crowd of doyennes behind her. ‘I don’t know. Good fun?’

Good fun?

Stupid, desperate heart.

‘Look, I’m sorry. I’ve had a terrible day and I don’t want you talking about my father. The man died racing a car. Everyone needs to get over it and move on.’

‘Like you have?’

His scowl at her quietly voiced question didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Don’t psychoanalyse me, Miller. You don’t know me.’

‘Only because you hide your deepest feelings under solid cement.’

She thought he would try and make light of her comment. When he didn’t she realised how stressed he really was. She also realised that her breathing had grown harsh, and the last thing she wanted to do was argue with him the night before a crucial race.

‘Valentino, your sister didn’t mean any harm. She was boosting me up because she thinks that you protect yourself against being hurt.’ A conclusion she had also drawn after talking to him that day in the park.

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it?’ Miller asked softly, her heart going out to this wounded, gorgeous man. ‘Or is it that you believe that your father didn’t love you enough to quit racing? Because I know that tomorrow’s race has been playing on your mind, and I’ve seen enough to guess that maybe you’re a little angry with him.’

A flash of insight hit her as she recalled how stiff he had been in his mother’s company—a woman she knew he loved dearly.

‘Maybe even with your mother—although I’m not sure why that would be.’

‘Don’t confuse your mother issues with mine, Miller,’ he snarled.

Miller gasped. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. My mother did her best and while you’ve helped me see that I’ve blindly followed her dreams instead of my own that wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I didn’t
have
to give up my artistic aspirations. I
chose
to because it suited me at the time.’ Miller felt as if he’d torn a strip off her and left her bleeding. ‘Now, I can see I’ve overstayed my welcome, so if you’ll ex—’

‘Don’t leave.’

Miller’s stomach was in knots and she was shaking. She
had
to leave before her runaway mouth said anything more she might regret. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I don’t mean right now. I mean tomorrow. Quit your job and travel with me. Come to Monaco next week.’

Miller stared at him. The tinkling chatter of happy guests faded to a low hum. He didn’t look completely comfortable, but was he serious?

‘Why?’ she blurted out.

‘Why does there have to be a reason? Haven’t you had fun the last few days?’

Miller smoothed her brows. ‘You know I have. But it’s not enough to sustain a relationship.’

‘Why put a label on what’s between us?’

Miller paused, taking in the offhandedness of his question, his effortless arrogance.

Oh, God, he wasn’t talking about having a relationship with her. Not a real one, anyway.
She
was the only one here with long-term on the brain.

‘I...can’t.’

She knew if she took him up on his offer it would mean a lot more to her than it did to him, and she knew herself well enough to know that it would be hell on her self-esteem. It would also be repeating the same mistakes she had made in the past—because following him around the world would be following
his
dreams at the expense of her own.

Reluctantly, she shook her head.

‘Why not?’ He sounded frustrated. ‘You hate your job.’

‘I don’t hate my job.’

He made a patronising noise and swung his arm in an arc. ‘It’s not what you want to do.’

‘How would you know? You never ask me what it is I want—you just tell me.’ She knew that was slightly unfair but she wasn’t about to correct herself right now. This was about protecting herself from his clear intent to change her mind for his own selfish purposes.

‘If you don’t want to come just say so, Miller, but don’t use your job as an excuse.’

‘What has got into you?’ she fumed. ‘You’ve been like a bear with a sore head all day, you’ve ignored me all night, and now you’re trying to steamroller me again to get what you want.’

‘Because I
always
get what I want.’

Miller rolled her eyes. ‘That’s arrogant, even for you.’

He shoved a hand in his pocket, pulling the divinely cut tuxedo jacket wide in a casually elegant move redolent of a 1950s film. ‘You didn’t seem to mind it this week.’

Didn’t seem to...
Miller couldn’t fathom his indifference. She had feelings and he was treating her as if she was here just to please him.

‘I don’t know how serious your offer to travel with you was, but I’m assuming you want a relationship. I have to tell you that I would never enter into something with a man who is so stubborn and selfish and
angry
.’

‘And finally she lists my faults.’

‘Oh, that is
so
typical of you—to make fun of something so serious.’

‘And it’s so typical of you to make serious that which could be fun.’

Miller drew in a fortifying breath. ‘I think we’ve said enough. We’re too different, Valentino. You want everything to be light and easy, but sometimes feelings aren’t like that.’

‘I know that. It’s why I refuse to have them.’

‘You can’t just refuse to have them. They’re not controllable.’ But Miller had the uncomfortable realisation that she had once believed exactly that.

Valentino rocked back on his heels. ‘Every emotion is controllable.’

‘Well, you’re lucky if that’s true, because I’ve just discovered that mine aren’t, and I can’t be with someone who only connects with me during sex because he’s too afraid to share how he feels.’

‘It’s the damned uncertainty of it you don’t like.’

Miller threw up her hands. ‘And now you’re going to tell me how I feel in an effort to hide your own feelings.’

‘Fine—you want to know how I feel? I feel that my father made a bad choice when he married my mother. He wasn’t a man equipped for having a family and he was never around for us. Hell, I was his favourite because of our shared love of adrenalin highs, but even then we hardly had any time together. And when his car hit that wall—’ He stopped suddenly, his voice thick. ‘I won’t do that to another person.’

The words
it hurts too much
hovered between them and Miller’s stomach pitched.

‘Valentino, I’m so sorry.’ She wanted to touch him, but his stiff countenance stole her confidence.

‘You’re not coming with me, are you?’

Miller swallowed heavily. If he had shown any inclination that his feelings might be even close to being as strong as hers she’d stay. She’d...

No.
She couldn’t stay for anything less than love. She refused to fall victim to the laws of relationships. She refused to be in an unequal partnership and watch it wither and die. Because it would take her along with it.

‘I can’t. I—’ She hesitated, fear of being ridiculed stopping her from exposing exactly how she felt, but knowing she loved him too much just to walk away without trying. ‘I want more than you’re prepared to give.’

He raked back his hair in frustration. ‘How much more?’

‘I want love. I never thought I did, and I’m still afraid of it, but you’ve made me see that working so hard, cutting myself off from my true passions, from my
feelings
, is living half a life. I’m sure I won’t be any good at a real relationship, but I’m ready to try.’

He turned his head to the side, his expression hard. ‘I can’t give you that. I don’t do permanence.’

Miller smiled weakly, her heart breaking. ‘I know. That’s why I didn’t ask it of you. But thank you for last weekend. For this week. And good luck tomorrow.’

‘Fine.’ His voice was harsh, grating. He cleared his throat. ‘Tell Mickey when you want to organise the jet.’

Miller felt her lower lip wobble and turned away before the tears in her eyes spilled over. It didn’t get much more definitive than that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

W
HEN
Miller disappeared from view Tino stalked off without a clear destination in mind, burning with anger. Didn’t she know what a concession he had made for her? What he had just offered her?

Tino stopped when he found himself outside on a tiered balcony, staring sightlessly at the glittering city lights.

Thank God she
hadn’t
taken him up on his offer. What had he been thinking? He
never
took a woman on tour.

‘I’m probably not the best person to follow you out here, but I know at least out of respect you won’t walk off on me.’

Valentino turned to find his mother standing behind him.

‘Want to talk about it?’

No, he didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Thanks, but I’m fine, Ma.’

‘Don’t ask me how this works.’ His mother stepped closer. ‘But a mother always knows when one of her children is lying. Even when they’re fully grown.’

Valentino blew out a breath and tipped his head to the starry sky. He really didn’t want his mother bothering him right now, and he cursed himself for not leaving when he’d had the chance.

‘Ma—’

His mother held her hand up in an imperious way that reminded him of Miller. ‘Don’t brush me off, darling. I once let your father go into a race in turmoil, and I won’t let my son do the same if I can help it.’

Valentino stared down at the tiny woman who had the strength and fortitude of an ox, and his anger morphed into something else. Something that felt a little like despair.

She stood beside him and the silence stretched taut until he couldn’t stand it any more. ‘You found it hard to be married to Dad with his job. I know you did.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you ask him to quit?’ Valentino heard the pain in his voice and did his best to mask it. ‘He would have done it for you.’

She regarded him steadily. ‘You’re still angry with him. With me, perhaps?’

He turned back to the lights below; cars like toys were moving in a steady stream along the throughways. Miller had said he was angry and right now he
felt
angry, so what was the point in denying it?

‘I never realised just how much you closed yourself off from us after your father died.’ His mother’s soft voice penetrated the sluggish fog of his mind. ‘You were always so serious. So
controlled
. But somehow you were still able to make us laugh.’

She offered him a sad smile that held a wealth of remembered pain.

‘I can see now it was your way of dealing with your pain, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there more for you right after it happened.’

Valentino raked an unsteady hand through his hair. ‘He always acted so bloody invincible and I...’ He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. ‘I stupidly believed him.’

‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. And I must have only made it worse by relying on you so heavily after his death because I thought you understood.’

Valentino felt something release and peel open deep inside him. Clasping his mother’s shoulders, he drew her into his arms. ‘I’m not angry at you, Ma.’

‘Not any more, hmmm?’

He heard her sniff and tightened his embrace. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass to you and to Tom. I treated him appallingly when he dutifully drove me to go-cart meets every month, stood in the wings of every damned race.’ He stopped, unable to express his remorse at the way he had treated his mother’s second husband.

His mother hugged him tight. ‘He understood.’

‘Then he’s a better man than I am.’

‘You were only sixteen when we married—a difficult age at the best of times.’

‘I think I resented him because he was around when Dad just never had been.’

‘Your father took his responsibilities seriously, Valentino. His problem was that he’d grown up in a cold household and didn’t know how to express love. He didn’t know how to show you that he loved you, but he was torn. That morning...’ She stopped, swallowed. ‘We’d been talking a lot about him retiring leading up to that awful race, and I think that had he survived he
would
have quit.’

‘I overheard you both talking about it that morning.’

His mother closed her eyes briefly. ‘Then you must blame me for his death. For putting him off his race.’

Her voice quavered and Tino rushed to reassure her. ‘No. Certainly not. Honestly, I blamed Dad for trying to have it all. I think, if anything, I was just upset that you hadn’t tried to stop him.’

His mother pulled back and gave him a wistful smile. ‘It is what it is. We are each defined by the choices that we make for good and bad. And it wasn’t an easy decision for your father to make. He had sponsors breathing down his neck, the team owner, his fans. He did his best, but fate had other ideas.’ She paused. ‘But life goes on, and I’ve been lucky enough to find love not once, but twice in my life. I hope you get to experience the same thing at least once. I hope all of my children do.’

Jamming his hands in his pockets, Tino wished he could jam a lid on the emotions swirling through his brain.

Damn Miller. She had been right. He had been angry with his mother all this time. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you for telling me.’

He caught a movement in his peripheral vision and saw Tom, his stepfather, about to head back inside, his expression clearly showing that he didn’t want to interrupt.

Valentino beckoned him and Tom approached, putting his arm around his wife, love shining brightly in his eyes. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’

Tino drew in a long, unsteady breath. ‘Tom...’ He searched for a way to thank this man he had previously disdained for loving his mother and always being there for him and his siblings.

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?’