Counterpoints (Counterpoints #1) Page 29

  “Who?” she said, doing her best to keep her face blank, but she felt a stab in her side.

  Her voice was shaky and her throat seemed very dry all of a sudden, the same feeling you get after having spoken for hours non- stop.

  As Noah went on and on about Giselle, how she and Christopher had been going on and off for a year, she started to feel sick.

  According to Noah, despite Christopher’s flings, Giselle had always managed to find her way back to him. Even if they both had kept seeing other people.

  “I don’t know how he manages them all, the women I mean. I can hardly manage my girlfriend with this crazy life we live. Relationships are so distracting. That’s why I broke it off with her” his face didn’t change one bit as he said it, expressionless. Careless, cold hearted as usual.

  “I’m sorry” Isabella said simply, no life in her voice, while she kept giving side looks to Christopher and Giselle.

  “It’s okay” he shrugged. “It’s hard to have a serious relationship for us, we meet so many people and we are never home” And while he spoke Isabella held his stare, taking in those words as if they were meant for her. But it couldn’t be, nobody knew.

  Her imagination was running wild, Noah was just talking about his girlfriend, how it probably ended badly between them. It was his personal experience. Wasn’t it?

  Christopher and Isabella had managed to live their relationship out of the gossip for weeks now, Noah was just talking in general. Or maybe she was just going crazy, the sight of Christopher and Giselle was making her feel dead cold. Like in any other situation that involved Christopher, Isabella just couldn’t think straight.

  A flash of every happy moment spent together – waking up beside him, making fun of each other, walking around in his shirt at his house in London, because he said it made her look so sexy- went through her mind and the nausea in her stomach increased dangerously.

  Without another word, afraid to feel sick there and then, she stepped away from Noah, giving him a simple wave and pretending she was needed elsewhere.

  That would have been a great moment to find Hillary and focus on her work, but she was nowhere to be seen and it was nearly nine o’clock. Breathe, just breathe.

  It was time to leave and go to the pool party, but it didn’t feel like a good idea anymore. Noah had touched a very soft spot and it hurt her deeply, she couldn’t hide it.

  It wasn’t about Christopher talking to Giselle all evening, it was about Christopher having several flings, one nightstands over the past year. It was about him having an on and off relationship with the same woman, while seeing others. What did that tell her about him? Exactly what I knew about him from the very beginning.

  The sight of them, had sparked a feeling of uneasiness in Isabella, just like the one she had experienced at the very beginning with Christopher.

  She could hear the alarm sound in her ears again, telling her to run as far as possible from him, for her own sake. She had been stupid enough to think there was something more than a fling between them. Something in Noah’s words made her doubt every single moment, every single thing that Christopher had said to her over the past weeks that they had spent together.

  Get a grip, search for air.

  The room felt stuffy and there were too many eyes staring at her. Isabella needed out. Her job was finished anyway, Christopher didn’t need her anymore, end of interviews for the day.

  She grabbed her bag from the dinner table and saw that Hillary wasn’t there either. She wanted to tell her she was going back to the hotel, tired and in need of sleep. The pool party didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.

  Before leaving, she squeezed John’s shoulder and wished him a pleasant evening, making up excuses for her not attending the after party. Headache, suddenly tired, she mumbled.

  Door, door. She spotted a side door, as many people headed towards the main exit.

  In the crowd she had lost sight of Christopher and Giselle and her mind had started torturing her with questions, she pretended not to hear.

  The door slammed open, as she put a little too much strength on the handle bar and she saw it lead to a long corridor. Isabella walked fast towards the far end, her stomach upside down, feeling sick and dizzy.

  The maze of corridors had to end somewhere. Once she had turned a corner, she saw a wide door that lead outside. Thank God.

  Again she pushed the door with all her strength and welcomed the warm breeze on her face. It felt liberating to be out of there, that room was too stuffy for her, her heart was bursting with ache and questions and bad, bad assumptions. She clutched her bag and held it tight against her chest, as she breathed in and out steadily.

  The street was small and narrow. It took her two seconds to decide it was best to head back in and take the main door as everyone else. It looked too dark for her to walk it alone.

  A noise made her jump and scream.

  Someone was there, she heard voices. She heard another sound, like panting and whispering and she noticed two figures holding each other in a hug. The straps of the woman’s dress were down and the man, who evidently had been kissing her, was now looking in Isabella’s direction.

  She recognized those eyes immediately, that stubborn, rude stare. It was Mr. Jenkins and in his arms was a confused and worried Hillary.

  “I…I…I’m sorry!!!” she stuttered.

  Isabella dashed in and slammed the door behind her, not stopping to listen to what the two of them were saying. Hillary had definitely followed her inside, but she was too far back for Isabella to understand what she was telling her. That was not the right moment to talk about what had been going on in the alleyway. To be honest, no moment was right to talk about what had been going on in the alleyway.

  Mr. Jenkins and Hillary? Really? Of course she had suspected it. She had known for a while now, since Australia but she also thought Hillary had put an end to their relationship. For her own good, if not for someone else’s.

  Isabella was now back in the main room, half empty, heading towards the main door when she felt a hand touch hers. She jumped to the side a little, but then saw it was Christopher, a very serious version of Christopher.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  Her face must have looked horrible, Isabella thought. Her stomach still felt upset and her head was telling her to just go back to her room and rest. She didn’t feel like talking, she didn’t feel like seeing anyone or hearing lies or unpleasant truths.

  “Yes, I am fine. How was your evening?” she asked, sarcasm having the upper hand.

  “Okay. Everyone wanted to talk to me” he looked around uneasily, but kept walking side by side her.

  Christopher knew she had seen him talking to Giselle and from Isabella’s worried eyes, he could see it had probably upset her a little.

  He searched for the right thing to say, but couldn’t. They were surrounded by people, some were still saying hello to him and wishing him good luck for tomorrow. It wasn’t the right place to talk.

  “Can I see you before you go to bed?” he whispered, looking around cautiously.

  Isabella lowered her eyes and breathed deeply, finally out in the dark night and feeling the air on her skin again.

  Hillary was probably there somewhere, still looking for her. She had to make her escape as fast as possible, to save both from the embarrassment of talking about what happened in that alleyway.

  “I need to sleep and so do you” she murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she asked and was about to leave, but Christopher touched her hand and the sparks on her skin made her look up, stunned for his gesture in public.

  “Look at me” he said, this time a little less inconspicuous.

  She looked at him and saw concern. It had been a terrible night for her, she was tired and jet lagged, too. It wasn’t the right moment to have serious conversations, it wasn’t the right time to jump to conclusions either.

  Isabella smiled back, trying to sooth both her mood and Christop
her’s. She squeezed his hand a little.

  “Is everything okay, Isabella?” he looked at her intensely.

  “I don’t know, is everything fine?” she searched the answer in his eyes and saw that Christopher’s posture slowly began to relax.

  He seemed less worried, now that Isabella had stopped to listen to him.

  “Everything is fine” he said.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” and even though her smile was weak, Christopher felt it was sincere. “Get some sleep” she added.

  He wished her goodnight and they parted ways, under Noah’s curious eyes.

  Chapter 26

  Another race, another adventure, history writing itself once again. In the front rows were two great pilots, sons of previous drivers of the same category, with only one thing on their minds: win the Cannes’ race and show the world that they weren’t just “sons of”, they were champions and future legends like their fathers.

  The stands were packed. So far this race had been the one with the biggest audience in the championship. Isabella walked around Cannes that morning and then entered the track feeling the vibe. All those flags, the people supporting their teams and favorite drivers- singing songs and cheering- it made her feel proud, proud of being part of something big, something so important worldwide.

  It was a strong atmosphere, the one of first category racing- a legendary sport that everyone there appreciated and wanted to be part of, even if it just meant showing their support to the drivers.

  Many yachts were moored at the small harbor in front of the race track, many rich and famous people enjoying the hot sun and drinking champagne, while waiting to see the battles between the leading teams and drivers of the championship.

  Of course the dwell was between Chiellini and MB, between Simoncini, Christopher and Noah, but also other teams had started gaining many points and good positions in the last two races. History had still to be written, nothing was definite and the gaps could be easily filled. The game was only half way through, it wasn’t over yet.

  Christopher had arrived before Noah. He had walked around the track with his engineer and two mechanics, his face calm and smiling to the many photographers that followed him around.

  Isabella watched him from the entrance of the MB stand, as he walked through the entire box lane, wondering how did the drivers put up with all that attention. They basically walked with reporters and photographers to their left, to their right, behind them and even in front of them. These last ones were the funniest to watch and the most annoying ones, too. They would walk backwards in order to get into the right position to stop and take pictures, then they would quickly start walking backwards again until they thought it was necessary to stop for another snapshot.

  Christopher was basically walking with moving obstacles in front of him the whole time.

  “Hi” he said to everyone there. Isabella smiled and said hello back. “How are you?” he asked putting his things down.

  “Better” referring to last night.

  Isabella wasn’t lying at all. She did feel better, actually she didn’t know what had happened to her. Why had she freaked out so much over nothing. Really, what had Christopher done that was so shocking? He had spoken to Giselle that night, his ex. So what?

  Whatever they had said to each other, nothing had really happened, they hadn’t left the party together. Actually, Christopher had come looking for her, as soon as the event had been over.

  Isabella was so angry at herself for almost losing it over nothing and for listening to Noah’s words. Didn’t she say to Cristina that she was going to try and live the relationship she had with Christopher, without thinking too much?

  She gave him a polite smile “How are you feeling?’ stupid question, he was probably very tense.

  “Ready” he seemed determined and concentrated.

  He scanned the place for his engineer and, when he spotted him, he signaled that he would be just a minute. “What are you doing after the race?” he asked her casually, looking sideways as usual.

  Too many people moving around them to make a direct question.

  “Hillary and I are walking you to the interviews and to the press conferences, as usual” she smiled to the side, avoiding his question.

  Of course he had meant after, after. As in after it was all finished.

  “Are you trying to piss me off, avoiding my question?” he smiled to the side, not at least bothered by her attempt.

  He took his mp3 player out of his bag and placed the headphones in his ears, preparing the race with music, as usual.

  Isabella knew the tracks by heart now, they listened to them together one morning, after they had been together all night. Christopher listened to the same playlist during the whole year, over thirty songs. It was his ritual, his lucky ritual. His last ritual before the race, actually. Before that, he had once confessed to her, he always called his mother. Just in case, he had said to Isabella and she had felt a sudden pain in her chest.

  “No, I wouldn’t dare. You need to stay focused now” she told him all serious and business like. “We’ll talk later” she added and then Christopher’s engineer called him over, impatient to speak to him.

  Isabella was left alone only a couple of minutes, just the time to look at Christopher’s interviews’ schedule again, then Noah arrived at the stand, together with Hillary and, when her eyes met her manager’s, her breathing changed.

  For the first time since they had started working together, Hillary wasn’t as bubbly as her usual. She looked embarrassed and self-conscious. Not the least the woman that she was in Isabella’s presence or on the job.

  She ended her conversation with Noah, who looked very serious and didn’t even smile one bit at the photographers and journalists piled up near the glass wall, hoping to get a word from him. He just couldn’t care less. The only thing on his mind was arriving first and beating Christopher in an important track like Cannes.

  Then, Hillary took a deep breath and walked over to Isabella.

  “Morning” she said looking ashamed.

  “Good morning” Isabella hinted a smile.

  After undressing in her hotel room, after a nice hot shower and a good night sleep, Isabella had felt better and her perspective had changed. Of course, it still bothered her the way Giselle was talking to Christopher, touching him and giving him those intriguing glances, but she had convinced herself that she needed to speak to him before jumping to conclusions. She had just been tired and grumpy. And she had probably had a mean case of PMS.

  About Hillary and Mr. Jenkins, it was their business anyway. No judging, no interference, she kept telling herself. It was their life, their relationship, their feelings. She just wished she could go back and not open that bloody door.

  “I posted the things we agreed yesterday. What did Mr. Jenkins say?” she squinted a little as she said his name.

  “About last night…” Hillary began but Isabella held up a hand.

  “There is no need to talk about last night, Hillary. It’s fine. I didn’t see anything”

  “Please let me explain” she insisted.

  “There is really nothing to say” Isabella reassured her but Hillary wouldn’t hear it.

  “Please just hear me out. It’s embarrassing as it is” and to that Isabella nodded.

  She didn’t want to upset her boss, it was obvious Hillary was having a hard time as it was. If she wanted to talk about it, then they would talk about it. I still wish we didn’t have to.

  “I need you to promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about what you saw” her eyes searched Isabella for her understanding.

  She nodded to Hillary.

  “Of course”

  “Thank you. Now, what I want you to know is that I love him. I really do. It’s not a fling or something like that. And I know it’s wrong, but I just don’t see a way out of it, without getting hurt” she whispered, as she pretended to read her schedule.

  Isabella held her
breath. She had no idea what to say. She was no expert and definitely not a good example to anyone. Look at her. She was in a kamikaze relationship herself.

  A secret, unprofessional, kamikaze relationship actually. But of course Christopher wasn’t married, Mr. Jenkins was.

  “I ended it with him two weeks ago in London. I didn’t see him until yesterday. He saw that we were in Europe and, with an excuse, he flew here to try and change my mind” she whispered. Looks like he succeeded.

  Fred came over and said hello and they stopped talking about it for a few minutes.

  There were more important things to think about now and so they all went back to work. Isabella squeezed her arm and told her that they would talk later, if she felt like it.

  “My lips are sealed. I would have never said anything, anyway” she reassured her.

  Hillary nodded, not doubting her word. She had trusted Isabella from the first day, seeing a professional, very skilled and reserved young woman in her.

  The cars were taken out of the boxes, it was almost time. The race was about to begin. Isabella gave one look at Christopher and Noah, both with their tracksuits on, not talking to anyone and mentally preparing themselves for the two hours’ drive.

  When they went towards the cars, already aligned on the track, Christopher looked back and waved to Isabella, who was taking a picture of the cars with her camera, to post later online. She zoomed in on Christopher and took one of him, too.

  Isabella waved back a little shy, her heart missing a beat as Christopher’s warm smile spread on his face. It made something burn inside her stomach.

  Last night’s negative thoughts were still there somewhere in her, ready to make a comeback in her heart, but for now Isabella had pushed them aside. How can he be so handsome?

  Still, she felt a heavy weight on her heart again, as images of Giselle laughing and tilting her head back, her arm wrapped around Christopher’s during dinner, came back to her. She shrugged them off and took a look at the picture she had just taken of him.

  His suit was still unbuttoned on the top and he wore it low on his hips. His hair was wavy and messy and gorgeous as usual, and his eyes were hidden behind his signature blue sunglasses, but she could tell from the shape of his lips, those eyes and that smile had been all for her.