Counterpoints (Counterpoints #1) Read online

  Isabella stopped chewing. She swallowed the food and her mouth dropped open.

  So that’s why he was staring at her as If she had been the cutest thing on the planet. She had actually enjoyed the food. What did he date most? Models?

  “It’s nice to talk to you” he added, pulling her out of her mute embarrassment.

  “Do you have many friends?” she wondered.

  Christopher had sounded so lonely just then.

  Isabella figured a person like him would know people all over the world. She guessed it was difficult though, for someone like him to keep contact during the season.

  “Not much. Real friends, I mean. I like to have a few close friends that I can really count on.”

  She nodded agreeing with him. When she was younger, Isabella had had loads of friends, but as it happened with Angela, growing up ‘quality’ had become more important than ‘quantity’.

  “What about the other drivers?”

  “Some are friends, like Harold from Chiellini. We have been friends since we were ten. And I was good friends with other drivers too, but, you’ll see, competitiveness can be pushed over the limit during the season.”

  He seemed a little tense as he spoke. Isabella didn’t want to press on, didn’t want to ruin the evening so she nodded and decided to leave it like that, but then he added:

  “We all have this respect for one another, but sometimes we forget everything else when we want to excel during the race.”

  He paused and then looked at her with that fire in his eyes again.

  “We all have a great flaw: we all think we are number ones or number one wannabes. You can imagine how that gets in the way of friendship sometimes.”

  Isabella nodded again. Yes, she imagined it wasn’t easy to befriend, really befriend those you tried so desperately to beat. Or in this case, to overtake.

  This wasn’t a video game or Sunday football match with friends in the local football field. This was their life. It was either you excelled and did your best or you were easily out of the game.

  “What about Noah?” just saying his name rubbed Isabella the wrong way. Noah had spent the whole three days in Valencia behaving like this big star around the press, being so full of himself and on his own most of the time.

  “We are colleagues. Like most drivers I’ve known him for a very long time. I think we can work together well as a team” Christopher seemed genuinely convinced about it so Isabella didn’t say anything.

  After all she had known Noah for what? Ten days maybe? Perhaps Noah had just created this character, this way of dealing with the outside world during the season. Maybe she had been wrong, Christopher definitely knew him better.

  “And what about you, do you feel like number one?” she asked and then went for a slice of chorizo. It tasted like spices and chili. Delicious.

  “I’ll always feel like a wannabe number one. That’s what makes you improve, makes you want to overcome your limits” he smiled cheekily at her and she looked at him, head cocked to the side. He surely looked like number one to her.

  She had seen him on track, driving the car these past three days and he had always been as fast as a bullet. Isabella also noticed how ecstatic he had been, when he had learned he had performed the fastest lap.

  “Are you ready for this season?”

  “I’m always ready, Isabella” he raised his glass of Sangria and then said “To this new adventure”

  They cheered and both took a sip of their drink, never looking away from each other, until music began to play in the background.

  Out of nowhere a group of Spanish musicians and singers had started playing near the biggest tree of the garden. The tunes were all melodic and Isabella thought it must have been traditional Spanish music.

  At the center of the garden, five dancers appeared with their partners and began to dance to what Isabella recognized as flamenco.

  “The food is not only the great thing about this place” Christopher said to her, leaning forward. “They perform every weekend”

  Isabella nodded to his words, but kept her eyes on the dancers.

  They were breathtaking: the women were wearing long red dresses, with a wide opening at the back and another all the way up to their thighs. Their hair was up and decorated with red flowers.

  The male dancers were all tanned and wearing black pants and black button up shirts and the most amazing thing was the way they swayed to the music, like they were one.

  Their moves were so fluid and sensuous, it felt like they belonged to the music the band was playing.

  It looked so spontaneous and so complex and the same time, the way the dancers responded to each other’s steps and how they pulled away from one another and then back again, holding onto their partners.

  Isabella stared without saying a word, feeling shivers down her back. She wished she could move like that and express herself with her body, like those dancers. It felt magical.

  Ten minutes later, when their exhibition was over, they applauded the dancers as they left the garden and moved inside the restaurant. The band stayed outside and continued to play in the background.

  “Wow, that was amazing” Isabella touched her cheeks, a little flushed for how emotional their dance had been. “I wish I could dance like that” she added, speaking her mind.

  Without saying a word, Christopher stood up and took her hand. Seeing confusion in her eyes he said:

  “Let’s go dance” she felt his hand on hers and noticed how rough and warm it felt on her skin.

  Embarrassed, Isabella looked around the garden and saw that nobody was getting up to dance.

  “I just said ‘I wished I could dance like that’…” she mumbled, but then let out an embarrassed laugh.

  “Your wish is mine to command” he smiled.

  Seeing Christopher still standing next to her, holding on to her hand without even flinching a little she added:

  “But nobody is dancing”

  When had she ever danced a slow tune like that one? Never. She had seen it in movies but nobody had ever asked her to dance, only to really fast and loud club music.

  “So?” he didn’t say anything else, he just looked at her expectantly. How could she say no to him? Never mind I’ll end up looking stupid on the dance floor.

  Isabella stood up and joined him, her legs shaking. She was going to make a fool of herself.

  This moment reminded her of the first school play she had taken part of. The first and the last, as she had hated that sort of attention.

  They walked in front of the group playing and Christopher smiled and said something to them in Spanish. One of the musicians smiled and said something back, but Isabella didn’t understand nor did she have time to say anything because the music changed and it became slower.

  Without saying anything, Christopher slowly placed a hand behind her back and took her left hand. Isabella gripped his shoulder with the other hand and looked at him, desperate.

  “I don’t know how to dance”

  “It’s okay, I’ll lead” but she looked around and then back at him still worried. So he added “Hey, relax” his hand touched her chin and he grinned at her, making Isabella shake a little. “You like safety, remember? You are safe with me” he added, the grin still on his face.

  “I doubt that” she teased.

  Isabella was suddenly more aware of his body, of his touch. Before she knew it, they were dancing.

  Christopher was a perfect leader, a born leader, Isabella thought. He didn’t flinch whenever she didn’t follow him properly, he just kept dancing and moving her around. Christopher wasn’t a professional dancer, he just knew a couple of moves but still he knew how to keep it up on the dance floor. When he gripped her tight and made her twirl in an overly dramatic manner like in the movies, they held each other tight for a few instants, their giggling disappeared as they looked at each other without saying a word.

  Chapter 9

  “Where did you learn to dance like
that?” she asked him once they had finished their dinner.

  They had paid the bill – he had insisted it was on him that night, even though she still owed him a drink for losing the bet over Mr. Jenkins- and they were now outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi. The street was packed with people, most of them groups of friends wondering around town, ready to party.

  People looked a little high and tipsy, but then again Isabella felt a little bubbly herself. Christopher, on the other hand, seemed perfectly in control.

  “My mother was a very famous dancer here in Spain. She just taught me a few moves. I’m not that good, she would have had a few things to say about my performance tonight” he grinned at the thought of his mother’s words.

  She would have probably said that he had to hold his posture a little straighter and not rush his steps, Christopher thought. But he didn’t care, he had wanted to dance with Isabella, feel her body move with his and that was all.

  He had wanted to smell her hair and look up close into her honey brown eyes. He had wanted to see what it would feel like to have her in his arms. And so he did, only to realize that it hadn’t been enough. He wanted more.

  “Well, I never danced like that with someone before and it was great. Thank you” Isabella looked down at her feet as she spoke, then back up to Christopher.

  Nobody danced like that anymore. Maybe in the movies, but she had never danced so close to someone else like that before. She felt high, it had given her jolts of pleasure to feel his grip around her waist.

  “You are welcome. I hope Valencia and I made it up to you. You will no longer have that horrible story to tell your friends, about losing your suitcase and being sick” he smiled, letting out a laugh as he thought about his words before saying them “No more sick and ‘suitcaseless’ Isabella in Valencia”

  Isabella gave him a big, warm smile and thought about the new story to tell her friends. Valencia with a hot man and tripping over my feet on the dance floor!

  “Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, seeing her shudder and then hug herself. She shook her head but he could tell she was. He turned to face her and placed his black jacket on her shoulders.

  “No, it’s cold. You’ll get sick!” Isabella said, a touch of worry in her voice.

  He moved closer- their chests almost touching- and she let him. All of a sudden, it felt the right opposite. The temperature had gone from ice cold to steaming hot.

  “Better?” he smiled to the side.

  It was impossible for Isabella to move away, not that she had wanted to, but his closeness made her head spin. She felt totally mesmerized by this man.

  “If you do that, I won’t need your coat anymore” she said in a low voice. He moved even closer, his lips brushed her cheek.

  Instantly, Isabella felt a burning feeling in her stomach.

  She kept blaming the Sangria. It made her perception of things a little funny, it felt like she could hear everything, like everyone was very loud but also, funny enough, she couldn’t make out what Christopher was saying to her just then.

  It felt suddenly cold again, as he took his hands off her back and she shivered.

  Before she could ask him what was going on, he took his phone out of his pocket and answered a phone call.

  Isabella was relieved. For a moment she thought he had backed away because she had said or done something wrong.

  “Hello?” Christopher said.

  The taxi had arrived and was waiting for them in the side street. Christopher gestured her to follow him in that direction, taking her hand. They walked silently to the car, as the other person on the phone did the talking.

  “Yeah, I think…” he said as they took a seat. He told the driver to hold on a second and continued his phone conversation with urgency.

  He mouthed ‘it’s Hillary ‘ to Isabella, who stared at him gaping. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…it was all she could think of.

  She didn’t want her to know they had gone out to dinner. SHIT! Isabella started immediately to shake her head and said NO with her finger.

  “Isabella? I think I saw her in the restaurant downstairs. I’ll go and tell her.”

  Isabella closed her eyes in relief for a moment. Christopher had saved her life, there and then. She didn’t want to explain their evening to Hillary, not now, especially when she didn’t know what to say yet.

  Isabella rammed in her bag, searching for her phone and noticed Hillary had tried to call her twice.

  “Do you want to go clubbing with everyone else?” he asked, his voice calm. He had put a hand on the receiver.

  She searched his eyes, looking for fear of someone figuring out what they were up to or the slightest hint of embarrassment on his count, but Christopher looked serene and in control as always.

  “Sure, if you want to go, too” Isabella said, still a little worried Hillary or anyone else would smell the lie.

  “Let’s do it” he gave her one of those sexy smiles of his.

  Then he removed his hand and to Hillary he said: “Where’s the place?”

  The bouncer at the door had let them all through, without blinking twice.

  Hillary and the rest of the gang had been there already, waiting for Isabella and Christopher. From their high spirits, Isabella could tell they had had a few drinks already and they were in such a party mood, they didn’t even say a word about them arriving together.

  They had skipped a long line of people and even though for some it could have been cool, Isabella felt a little awkward as everyone stared at them. She realized later they were either trying to figure out who the hell they were or maybe they had recognized Christopher and Noah and were wondering who the hell was she. Understandably.

  Inside, the club was huge and very chic. The building outside had been a plane concrete purple establishment, but inside it was all lights and black and white furniture. The crowd was dancing to house music and drinking. There was a very trendy and possibly rich crowd, Isabella thought, judging by their attire and from all the bottles of champagne lying everywhere.

  They walked across the whole room until they reached a set of stairs –just two or three steps- that took them up to the VIP room, which was sort of a wide terrace overlooking the dance floor.

  She looked at Christopher, who was talking to Noah, as they took seats on a couch near a white table.

  From the moment they had stepped out of the car, he hadn’t even looked at her once nor said a word. And that had been exactly what she had wanted, to avoid involving anyone - especially Hillary- in their business, particularly because they had just been hanging out as friends. Keep telling that to yourself.

  Was that what she really wanted? Be on the other side of the table or room from Christopher?

  Isabella shrugged off her conscience and took a seat as well, keeping her distance from the two drivers. She saw Christopher glimpse at her but then Noah asked him something and he went back to their conversation.

  “You look fabulous, darling!” shouted Hillary over the music. She had taken a seat next to her on the white couch and was already sipping a drink. Isabella smiled on the inside: just typical of Brits. First things first: get oneself a drink. As quickly as possible.

  “You look great yourself” she shouted back. Hillary was stunning, actually. She was wearing a short red dress that accentuated her dark skin and her hair was loose on her shoulders.

  “Aw, thanks. You need a drink!” and then she turned to John who was chatting up a brunette. “John…oops sorry.” She turned to Isabella and giggled. “He’s a smooth talker, look at him. Five minutes in a club and he is already looking for a girl to spend the night with.”

  She turned her head to the side and signaled to Fred, one of the engineers if he could get Isabella a mojito.

  “So, what were you up to tonight?” she asked. Isabella looked down for a second and then searched her face. Hillary had asked a simple question, implying nothing on her count. She seemed just curious of what her colleague had
been doing at dinner.

  “I had a quick dinner at the hotel and was thinking of going out later. You told me there was a chance we would go clubbing…” Isabella thanked Fred who had brought her a drink and he had given her a thumbs up in return. “How was dinner with Mr. Jenkins?”

  Hillary’s face changed abruptly. Isabella couldn’t really tell what it meant, she just seemed a bit sad or confused.

  “Dinner was good. We went to a place near the city center” Isabella’s face went up in flames. How happy was she, that they were in a big city like Valencia and they hadn’t actually bumped into each other. She was super happy they were in a dark club just then, so Hillary hadn’t noticed her red cheeks.

  “We talked work. He’s impressed with your pictures but wants me to proof read everything you write. Don’t take it personally, it’s just he’s a control freak.”

  Isabella nodded. “I understand”

  She didn’t actually, but also she couldn’t care less in that moment. All she could focus on was Christopher talking to a tall, skinny, blond woman, who had just walked over to him. Isabella felt a stab in her chest and one in her stomach.

  “Here we go” Hillary said and took a swing at her drink. “Christopher has quite a few fans here. Of course he’s half Spanish, so everyone knows who he is but the girls are crazy about him.”

  Just as she finished her sentence, Hillary saw a person she knew and excused herself. But Isabella wasn’t even listening. Her eyes were stuck on Christopher.

  He was talking to the woman, smiling and laughing a little. Was that a wink she saw her do? The skinny figure took a seat next to him and moved closer to whisper something in his ears.

  At that Isabella got up. Her legs where a little shaky because of the alcohol, but she didn’t care. She straightened up, like the big girls she was, and drank all that was left of her cocktail.

  Then, sensing Christopher’s eyes on her, she walked to the bar without even turning to look at him. Drink, she needed another drink to stop caring. To stop caring about the world. Maybe friendship was an excellent choice, after all.