Counterpoints: Book 2 Page 15

  “I like your tattoos” Isabella traced the big one on Christopher’s shoulder with the tip of her finger. It stretched from the upper arm, all the way to his chest, the last part almost reached the base of his neck. “How many do you have?”

  “Ten, for now” he watched her fingers brush against his skin, as they rested side by side in bed, under the yellow sheets, completely ignoring the sunlight that fought its way through the curtains.

  Isabella’s hand moved down his left arm, to the inside part near the elbow and stared at the small cursive writing.

  James.

  Her lips set in a thin line and her hand moved down to his wrist, where another tattoo seemed to wrap around it like a bracelet. It was a tribal.

  “Why so many?” she asked, while taking his hand and guiding it up to her cheek.

  He gently stroked her face, her lip and kissed her.

  He’s not making it easy to get out of bed, she thought.

  Christopher shook his head.

  “I don’t know. I just like the idea of writing my own story on my body, writing the things I care about on my skin”

  “What does this one mean?” she touched the small tribal on his wrist again.

  “Strength” he smirked.

  Isabella turned his wrist around, so that the inside part was visible to her, and kissed the skin, right on the tattoo.

  “What about this one on your shoulder?” Isabella asked and her hand rested on his chest, exactly where the tattoo ended.

  It looked like a tribal, but it was more elaborate, more intricate than the one on his wrist. It had big round spirals and pointed lines that resembled thorns.

  “It’s a Maori. It means ‘Never back down’” he looked into her eyes. “I never give up, Isabella”

  She swallowed hard and nodded slowly. Isabella knew it was true, Christopher would never let go, never give up on something he believed in, something he cared for. Like he always did during a race.

  “I want you to know ” he went on, as Isabella rolled on top of him and opened her eyes “It will never happen again”

  “What?” she shook her head absent mindedly, not sensing what Christopher was talking about.

  Her cheeks were still flushed from their morning love making. She caught sight of the clock on the wall and saw it was almost eleven am.

  I don’t want to leave this bed.

  “I will never do that to you again” he said, without going into details, without coming out and saying exactly what he was referring to. But he didn’t need to. Isabella knew it was about Giselle.

  “I know that” Isabella said, lowering her stare.

  “You’ll bump into her again soon and I want you to remember this when you do” he lifted her chin up and then kissed her lips gently “Okay?”

  “She’s going to be in Berlin, isn’t she?” a lump formed in her throat, but Isabella did her best not to give it away. She kept her voice steady.

  “Chances are high, yes. She’s always around when races are in Europe, especially with the fashion week running almost at the same time as the race” Christopher said “Just remember what I said, if you see us talking. You want me to keep things as they are, not draw attention on us…”

  “Okay” she kissed him quickly and then, sat up holding the blanket around her chest, eager to put an end to the conversation about Giselle.

  “No, wait” he said and took her arm. “Come back”

  Isabella turned to look at him, with a cheeky smile on her face.

  He looked so lazy, so at ease in his big wooden bed. She bent down to kiss that sexy dimple on his right cheek.

  “You don’t have to work today, do you?” he asked, his face puzzled.

  “No” she shook her head. “Just a couple of phone calls”

  “Then stay” his hand reached for her again and began to stroke her hair, doing everything in his power to lure her back to the bed.

  “I’ll stay” she said “but only if you do your thing”

  If you still have any energy left, after last night and this morning, Isabella’s gave him a sly smile.

  Christopher sat up only to kiss her shoulder, his hand was back in her hair. Isabella waited for his lips to touch hers and when they did, she welcomed the fire that spread in her stomach.

  “I have to do one hour of cardio in the gym downstairs and some weight lifting” he said and got hold of his t-shirt.

  His arms flexed, while slipping it on and Isabella bit her thumb, her mind recalling the pleasure of his body moving with hers.

  “What’s that face?” he asked, smiling to the side.

  “It’s my face, the usual” she answered nonchalantly. Her cheeks though had turned crimson. “I’ll have a shower and then I was thinking of taking the camera to that little park nearby” she wondered out loud “And then we could have breakfast together” she said while retrieving her stuff on the floor.

  It looked sunny outside, like a real summer day- finally- and Isabella felt she needed the walk. She felt the need to reconnect with the outdoor surroundings, after spending a whole week at work.

  With the blanket still wrapped around her body, Isabella hopped all the way to the bathroom and Christopher enjoyed the show a little longer from his big, wooden bed.

  Chapter 12

  Back home it was easy to tell when it was summer. There were certain signals impossible to miss, that screamed it was that time of the year.

  Summer.

  One thing Isabella always did back home when it was warmer, was to head out with her hair slightly damp. Her curls would dry in the heat, no problem with that.

  She stepped outside Christopher’s house a little psycho looking - checking out if there were any photographers standing around, even if Christopher had told her that he wasn’t that big of a star- in last night’s black and white stripy t-shirt and skinny, black jeans, her wavy hair down. And damp, really damp.

  They’ll dry, Isabella thought.

  All the way through High Street Park –where she had stopped to take some pictures with her camera- and all the way to the coffee place around the corner, her hair was damp and it stayed damp until she reached Christopher’s house again, approximately one hour later.

  It may be sunny, it is certainly a beautiful day, but this isn’t summer. Or not the summer I’m used to.

  As she had the thought, she made a mental note to herself to always dry her hair when she was in London. She could already feel her nose itch, like a cold was approaching.

  Please, let it just be the hypochondria kicking in.

  “Hey, I’m back” she said closing the front door with her bottom, her hands full of bags and newspapers.

  “In the kitchen, baby” he said.

  Baby, Isabella smiled to herself. It was new to her, hearing Christopher’s sexy voice call her that. Isabella wasn’t going to lie to herself, not that morning, not after the fantastic night they had spent together. It felt amazing.

  She passed the fire place and crossed the living room, before she spotted Christopher standing next to the kitchen isle, beside the stools, setting the breakfast bar with table mats and glasses.

  He smiled and pushed his messy hair back. His was wet too, from the shower he must have had just taken.

  Isabella smiled back and walked over to him, after having placed the bag on the kitchen counter. She reached for his lips and kissed him passionately.

  Christopher wrapped his arms tight around her and Isabella felt his hard chest against hers. She felt so tiny and fragile in his embrace.

  “Did you have a nice walk?” he asked, still keeping his arms around her body.

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful outside”

  “No photographers stalking you, asking who is this new hot date of driver Christopher Taylor? Signorina, a word with you, Signorina please stop, we have questions…” he teased.

  “Ah, not funny. But I actually had to run from a few pigeon stalkers”

  “Pigeon stalkers?” he tossed something
that resembled a nut in his mouth and looked amused.

  “Yes, pigeon stalking is a very serious matter, stop smirking” she made a face “I hate volatiles and they hate me, so they stalk me, they chase me like it’s funny to freak me out”

  “I bet it IS funny to freak you out” he agreed and ate another dried fruit.

  “No cinnamon roll for you mister, you forgot I’m the bread winner this morning. I detain the breakfast, the power” she did her best to keep her face serious, only to burst into a laugh in the end.

  “What did you get?” Christopher stepped forward and tried to peek in the bag.

  “One of each” she grinned and clapped her hands for the joy of seeing all that food. Her stomach grumbled.

  “Cinnamon roll, almond croissant, pain au chocolate, two kinds of jams, fresh bread and something that tries desperately to look like a cappuccino” she squinted at the two brown cups in the second bag.

  “And exactly how many people did you invite to this breakfast party?” Christopher moved around the kitchen counter and took two plates to set on the table.

  “I get excited over breakfast, it’s my favorite meal of the day” she informed him, rather satisfied with her shopping spree. “So, what would you like to try first?” Isabella grinned again and got hold of a knife. Her idea was to try a little bit of everything.

  That’s going to satisfy my morning hunger.

  “I have to eat oatmeal and banana, with dried fruit this morning” Christopher said and placed his food on the counter. He looked down at his plate and frowned.

  “Oh really?” Isabella pouted.

  Maybe I should be the one eating that, the thought crossed her mind.

  “But I’ll try some pain au chocolate, please” he smiled.

  Isabella cut a piece for Christopher and then fed him some, her eyes gleaming with joy. She watched him chew the sweet deli and then had some as well.

  “I know, I know it’s delicious isn’t it?” she smiled wide “I am the queen of take away, I’m a natural. I can smell good food from miles away. It’s a talent”

  “How do you do it?” he teased and kissed her hair.

  Isabella closed her eyes for an instant, savoring the moment. It was such a normal, everyday life situation, but at the same time it was anything but normal, anything but regular. It was rare, it was intimacy.

  They ate in silence for a while, feeling comfortable with each other, as the coffee worked its magic and gave them energy for the day.

  “Do you feel like going someplace with me?” he said in between mouthfuls.

  “Sure” Isabella sipped her cappuccino, ignoring the bitterness of the coffee.

  He wants to go somewhere with me, who cares about the cappuccino? Gobble it down, girl and fast!

  “Where do you want to go?” she asked.

  “It’s a place forty minutes or so south of London, something I want you to have a look at”

  he sipped his coffee.

  “If it’s a bungee jumping facility, no thanks. Been there, done that”

  “Yes, you did. And you loved it” he gave her a sly smile, so deadly Isabella couldn’t refrain from smiling back “Anyway, I just want to show you something, I need your personal and professional opinion on this”

  “Okay” she said a little unsure, curious of this place Christopher seemed so mysterious about. “I am done with breakfast, whenever you want”

  “Let’s do it”

  They grabbed a jacket and headed outside, on Christopher’s pebbled driveway. He raised his arm and clicked on a small remote control. The garage door opened slowly and his black and gray sports car appeared.

  Isabella stared at it and then at Christopher.

  “Are we going in that?”

  “Oh no, of course not. We are riding horses on the motorway” he smiled to the side and watched her lips curl up.

  Sarcasm is sexy on you too, Christopher.

  “I’m not going to have a heart attack today, thank you. I already gave in on the motorbike yesterday” she said and crossed her arms.

  “Actually, I was thinking of testing YOUR driving skills. Want to drive it on the way there and maybe give ME a heart attack or two?” he said showing her the keys.

  Isabella gaped at him, then checked out the car, the doors, the side, the back.

  “I can drive it?” she manage to articulate in the end.

  “Do you know how to drive?” he asked and then watched Isabella’s face change.

  “You didn’t just ask me If I know how to drive. Please tell me you didn’t” her shoulders went down in disappointment.

  “I did” he laughed, so hard, realizing the offence.

  Asking an Italian if he or she knew how to drive was a real insult, he should know. Italian drivers and Italian teams in First Category racing took their natural inclination towards cars and engines very seriously.

  “Of course I do” she rolled her eyes “One hand on the wheel, the other on the side preferably sticking out from the window, sunglasses and loud music on. And oh, oh and all of this with preferably a chewing gum in your mouth”

  Christopher shook his head “On second thoughts, luv…”

  “I’m kidding” she laughed and waited for Christopher to hand her the keys, before adding “You have insurance, right?”

  Isabella grinned, as she walked around the car and sat down in the wrong seat- the passenger seat- which to Isabella’s disbelief was on the left side.

  Hello, we are in England. Of course the driver sits on the right side.

  “Damn”

  “What?”

  “I hadn’t thought about the whole driving the wrong way around”

  “You mean driving the ‘right’ way around” he smiled.

  “No, I mean driving on the left side of the road, which for your information is the wrong way” she informed him.

  “Are you backing out?” he looked entertained.

  “No” she said, sure of her own words “but I think I’ll need a copilot to remind me to keep the left side”

  “Nessun problema, signorina. I’ll guide you. I am a pro, remember? Now let’s get out of here” he said and put on his dark pair of sunglasses.

  They had been driving for forty minutes in the British countryside, somewhere south according to the GPS, when Christopher told Isabella to turn. They were going to exit the motorway.

  Isabella switched the indicator on and repeated the words in her head, like she had been doing for the whole time.

  Left, left, left. Keep left, exit left.

  “We are almost there” he pointed to a sign and Isabella took a smaller road, just after exiting the motorway.

  After a couple of turns, they headed towards a low construction, maybe two stories high, Isabella wasn’t sure until they were close enough.

  From the outside, the building looked new- mainly made of glass- and very spacious. It looked deserted, as if it wasn’t open to the public.

  The parking was in fact empty, If not for the security guard who greeted them and let them through the main gate.

  “Where are we?” Isabella said, after having looked for signs that would give her a clue.

  There were none.

  She parked the car in one of the parking spaces that said ‘staff’ and turned to look at Christopher, a look of wonder on her face.

  “Let’s look around” he opened the door and stepped outside.

  They walked to the main door of the building, Isabella still checking the surroundings for clues. So far, it resembled the MB track she had visited her first day on the job outside London, only this looked slightly smaller.

  The inside was brand new, the plastic on the seats and on the couches had still to be removed. There was a long counter at the entrance, with no sign and no leaflets on it whatsoever.

  Christopher swiped a card and opened a second door, one that would lead them outside again, in a sort of backside of the structure. Isabella took in a breath, her eyes finally recognizing the surr
oundings.

  A long tarmac road spread before them and it disappeared straight ahead in turns and loops.

  It was a track, a track similar to the MB one. Only it was smaller.

  And it is a track for go-karts, Isabella realized when she spotted the vehicles all lined up under a hangar looking, metal structure right next to the tarmac.

  “Wow” she smiled and looked at Christopher “what is this place?”

  “A place I wanted you to see. Want to try them out?” he gestured towards the go karts parked under the hangar.

  “You want me to kick your bottom on this track, too?” Isabella grinned at him.

  Christopher smirked “It’s not a bicycle this time, signorina Bresciani. It’s a vehicle with an actual engine and everything. And I won’t let my guard down, not like the first time when I underestimated you” he gave her a cheeky look, his mind recalling the first time they had been to the MB track, just outside London.

  Isabella had cheated and won the bike challenge, but never in his life did Christopher enjoy losing, like he had that day.

  Losing to a beautiful, sassy woman like Isabella.

  He took her hand and they walked over to the hangar, Isabella’s pulse picking up step by step, as she got closer to the karts.

  “Here” he said, handing her a white helmet “Chose your lucky number…”

  “Number ten it is” she immediately took a seat and began checking out the kart, her hands a little shaky.

  Brake, accelerator, wheel. Looks pretty easy, I AM going to kick his bottom, Isabella smirked.

  “Smirk all you want now, baby” he told her and Isabella grinned “I’ll go get some fuel, I left a small tank somewhere here last week”

  “You were here last week?” Isabella asked, turning his way and peeking inside the metal structure. What had she been doing last week?

  Crying my heart out for him, eating junk food, skipping meals, getting drunk with Hillary...and he had been riding go karts!

  “Yeah, I came here to check the place out with Mr. Jenkins and his entourage. We tried the karts, all twenty of them”

  “I still don’t understand where we are exactly” she mumbled, her hands on the wheel again. Isabella tried turning it and noticed immediately how hard it felt. Nothing like an actual car.