Counterpoints Book 3 Read online

  “Buongiorno, signorina” Christopher’s deep voice filled the room.

  He was up and looking much better than the day before. He was in his jeans and holding a t-shirt in his hands, his fit, tattooed chest bare. He took her in his arms and bent down to kiss her hard.

  Christopher’s mouth claimed hers, like they had been apart for days.

  Isabella smiled as they kissed, her teeth pulling Christopher’s lower lip a little.

  As her hands moved along his back, she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his strong, muscular arms wrapped around her, drunken by his scent.

  That morning Christopher smelled of eucalyptus and lemon zest, his beard had been cut a little and the bruise under his eye was more visible now.

  And still he was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

  “Good morning to you, too” she said and reached up to kiss him quickly again, as her stomach clenched “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Wait for me without your shirt on, just to flex your muscles and try to impress me?” she winked and bit her lip, as she ran both hands over his chest.

  “Seems to be working quite well. I might even get lucky tonight” he mumbled and dropped his hands down to Isabella’s hips.

  Just as they slipped behind her lower back, Isabella grabbed a hold of them.

  “Let’s get you out of here” she said and backed a little.

  “Fine” he held his hands up and smiled, one of his best, sexy smiles.

  Hot!

  “Could you please help me with this? I can’t lift my arms up properly, they feel heavy” he winced, as he tried to slip in his shirt.

  “Did you tell the doctors?” Isabella asked while she helped him.

  Christopher nodded. “They said it’s nothing serious, I need to rest and take it easy”

  “Then rest and take it easy. I’m here to help” Isabella smiled.

  “Mmmm. Are you going to wear one of those sexy nurse outfits for me?” he smirked.

  “Maybe, If you behave” she eyed him to the side. “Come on, let’s get out of here”

  Christopher took his bag and they walked to the elevator, down to the hospital entrance, Isabella’s mind back on the same page as before entering Christopher’s room.

  The journalists. The flashes, the questions…the journalists!

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, feeling her body tense.

  Christopher pulled at Isabella’s hand a little and stared at her, amused as always as a series of emotions seemed to cross her absolutely, wonderful face.

  She wrinkled her nose a little and he loved how her small, tiny freckles seemed to disappear for a moment under her golden, brown eyes.

  “Nothing. Just looking for something hard to smash on the journalists’ heads” she laughed “I’m okay. I’m just freaking out a little” she shrugged and looked towards the glass doors at the entrance.

  I am freaking out alright, she looked back at Christopher again. But not about what’s happening between us.

  There were no more doubts.

  She knew it was real, what they had. She could feel, just standing beside him hand in hand, that they were real.

  Even if it was crazy, even if it still made no sense – to why Christopher was so interested in her- Isabella knew it was there, the connection, the attraction between them. It was so strong and impossible to ignore.

  And I don’t want to ignore it. I don’t want to give it up. I want him. I want to be with him. I want it all.

  What she had felt seeing him crash and unconscious, had opened her eyes to what they had become. It had felt as if she had crashed herself, like it had been her in that car. Isabella had felt hurt and helpless.

  I don’t want regrets, I want to live without regrets.

  She looked at the door again.

  From where they were standing, they could already see journalists shuffling around, stretching their arms up in the air- people holding cameras and recorders. There was commotion. Someone had spotted Christopher already.

  “No worries, luv. It’s the same as always. They’ll ask me questions, some of which good, some stupid. Just let me talk as usual. You can let go of my hand and walk next to me. If they ask, I’ll say you are here for work, as my press agent” he said and smiled at her reassuringly. “I’ll just say you were worried and emotional the other day, seeing a coworker injured like that” he went on and started to let go of her hand.

  His fingers had almost slipped out of her hand, when Isabella grabbed them and held on tight. Slowly, she moved her hand back into his.

  “That was very diplomatic of you, Mr. Taylor. As your press agent, all I can say is bravo!” Isabella smiled and went on “But there is a problem with what you just said” she pursed her lips and looked down at their hands, their fingers entwined.

  “I am not here as your press agent. I am here… for you. I don’t want to let go” the warm feeling spread through her stomach, her entire body, as she said the words, her eyes back on their fingers.

  And I just jumped, I just took my leap of faith.

  She swallowed hard and smiled, terrified and happy at the same time for putting her cards on the table.

  There was no going back, no intention of a coward retreat.

  Isabella looked up again, straight into his deep green eyes and felt no regret, no fear.

  This was what she wanted and it didn’t matter how it would end. For the first time in her life she was risking everything – her job, her heart- and she had never felt better. She had never felt so alive.

  Christopher reached for Isabella’s soft lips with his other hand and smiled.

  “Are you sure?” he smiled to the side, surprised.

  Isabella nodded “I am just trying to figure out how to cope with all the unwanted attention” she laughed nervously again, as she caught sight of another flash through the large window near the main entrance of the hospital.

  Christopher smiled wide and the bruise moved slightly up to the side, almost disappearing from his face.

  “You’ve got to dance like there’s nobody watching, Bresciani” he kissed the back of her hand.

  You make everything seem so easy, she thought.

  Maybe it was, though. Easy. Just like it had been easy to fall for him, to feel something for him.

  Going out with someone like Christopher, trusting him, had been the riskiest thing Isabella had ever done in her life. She could face the spotlight and everything that came along with it.

  He held on tight to her hand. “Let’s go baby”

  Then, they stepped outside.

  And the questions began.

  Gossip was something Isabella was very familiar with – even if on a small scale.

  Small town, huge mouths.

  That’s what she had discovered growing up in her hometown. If there was something she had been good at all her life, was to keep out of any sort of rumor. Isabella had mastered the ability of being invisible- no chit chatter, no sticking nose into other people’s business, no public display of any sort.

  The iron lady, she was aware of what some people called her.

  “The iron lady is keeping her sister out of trouble” every time Isabella had saved Emilia’s butt from her parents, as a teen.

  “No wonder they broke up, she is the iron lady” had been one of her all-time favorites, like they knew her so well, every detail of her love stories.

  Pathetic. Yes, it was all so pathetic. Gossip.

  But It was fine, she was totally okay with it. Some people her age had been given worse nicknames. To Isabella, it was way better to be seen as cold, rather than slutty or snob.

  However, gossip on an international level was a whole other matter.

  Gossip, real gossip travelled faster than cars, faster than speed train, faster than airplanes too apparently.

  It took Christopher and Isabella exactly three hours to go to Berlin airport and fly back to London.

  Three hours.

  In that amount of time, new
s about Christopher’s recovery and gossip about his love life, had travelled at a supersonic speed the distance between countries.

  When the cab stopped in front of Isabella’s house on Queensway road, the sidewalk was packed with journalists.

  Isabella gaped at the crowd gathered around her front door, like she was some famous rock star.

  It was going to be hell, to walk through them.

  What the….

  “What do they want?” she stared blankly at Christopher.

  “Pictures. Declarations of love. Me walking with a hand stamped on your ass” Christopher mocked her.

  “You find this funny, don’t you?” Isabella asked, one brow up and unable to stop the smile from spreading on her face.

  “I find it entertaining, like everything that seems to terrify you” he smirked.

  “What’s the big news, anyway? You have dated so many famous women… and how the hell do they know where I live? Me? How?” Isabella was incredulous.

  “I don’t know how they do it” he shook his head. “Let’s go to my house”

  “I need a change of clothes” Isabella sighed, her nose brushing against the passenger window.

  She needed clean clothes, she craved a shower, a lazy evening.

  I smell public transport on me!

  “Since when do you wear clothes at my house?” he looked ahead- not meeting Isabella’s stare on purpose- and started talking to the cab driver, as If he hadn’t just said what he had said.

  Isabella saw the driver chuckle from the rearview mirror.

  I bet these taxi drivers have heard and seen a lot in their lives. If these cabs could talk…

  “Don’t listen to him, sir. I wear clothes in people’s houses” she gave Christopher a dirty look.

  The man laughed, this time openly and raised his hands up, like it wasn’t his business.

  Christopher was laughing, too, right in Isabella’s face. He looked at her amused as always, her red cheeks and wide eyes were so entertaining to watch.

  “Well” Isabella tried to get it back together “what makes you think they haven’t surrounded your place, too?”

  “It’s not what I think” he said and told the driver their next stop. Maida Vale.

  The cab moved slowly through traffic, uphill towards Paddington Station and then turned left at the bridge to cross the small river of Little Venice.

  “I know they aren’t anywhere close to my house” his mouth moved up to the side and Isabella stared at him puzzled.

  “They have my Mayfair studio address, not the other one”

  “Ah” Isabella understood perfectly well.

  The press knew where to find him, when he usually went out with a woman. The place where Christopher met his one night stands, when he was out and about in town, partying and clubbing.

  His love nest in Mayfair, Isabella frowned. Sleeping with this girl, that girl…

  “What’s the matter, Bresciani?” he leaned forward a little and searched her face, taking her chin into his big, right hand.

  His touch made her shiver.

  “Nothing” she shook off any negative thought.

  Christopher had been straightforward and honest from the beginning. Plus, she had been the only woman he had taken to his home, his real home in Maida Vale. That meant more than any one night stand in a Mayfair studio apartment.

  “I still need to go home” she pouted a little and then smiled, feeling his eyes on her again.

  “What for?”

  “I’ve been away for almost a week…” she looked his way, a soft smile on her lips.

  “Backing out from your promise to be my sexy nurse for the next few days?” he smirked.

  “I said I’d take care of you, the nurse bit was all your dirty mind thinking” she held his stare, pulling off her best smug face.

  “Just stay with me for a few days” he said as they drove up the road, Christopher’s house was already in sight.

  He moved closer and kissed her hard- one hand in her hair, the other one slipping down, between her thighs- making Isabella gasp against his lips.

  It was Christopher’s way of stressing the point, of winning the argument.

  When he’s right, he’s right. Isabella giggled in the back of the cab.

  Chapter 5

  First gear in. Foot ready on the gas. Red lights out. Go!

  The car skidded forward, fast as a bullet, straight into the first turn- the familiar smell of burnt tires filled Christopher’s helmet.

  Second gear, third gear, fourth…

  His grip on the wheel tightened, as he pushed hard on the brake and turned left, driving through the first turn, his eyes fixed on its exit.

  See the exit, always focus on the exit of the turn.

  Christopher gave gas again and concentrated on the car ahead.

  He knew it was absolutely mandatory to overtake it as fast as possible, to work his way up to the front of the race.

  He may have started at the far back, but he was going to end up on that podium.

  I am going to win this today, he thought passing the first car just before the next curb and went straight on, breaking last minute, as he focused on his next target- the next car ahead.

  I need to speed up.

  “Easy on the throttle, Chris. Tarmac is soaked in two sectors of the track already” Robert’s voice echoed in his ears.

  “Car is good” he said to his engineer, keeping his eyes ahead.

  He was so close to the car in front of him now, he could hardly see anything at all- the slipstream of water coming from its tires, splashing on his helmet.

  Three hundred and ten, his speed was incredible, the car felt perfect.

  They almost entered the next curb side by side, Christopher’s foot heavy on the throttle, until they were out, onto another straight and Christopher made his move.

  The two cars were so close, the tires nearly touched, as Christopher launched forward and was about to close in, in front of his opponent.

  Keep your eyes ahead, he reminded himself, but he didn’t. Christopher glanced to the side, just as his car moved ahead and something caught his eye.

  He recognized the black and red helmet immediately.

  James Taylor, it said on the left-hand side.

  “What the…”

  “You are just his son” he heard a voice on the radio, but it wasn’t Robert’s.

  “You live in his shadow” the same voice went on.

  “It’s not real” Christopher mumbled under his breath.

  He kept staring at his father, at the man he was overtaking, as he waved briefly at him and Christopher gaped.

  “What the fuck…” he mumbled under his breath again and then Robert’s voice was back, full on, screaming to the top of his lungs.

  “WATCH OUT!”

  Christopher looked up, his eyes back on the road, only a fraction of a second before he hit the barriers and his body began to shake, as if struck by a lighting.

  He sat up in bed panting, his heart thumping wild across his naked chest.

  “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Isabella asked and jolted up.

  Even in the darkness of his bedroom, Christopher could see her eyes were wide. She was scared, just as much as he was disorientated.

  “Sorry” he mumbled, his heartbeat slowly going back to normal.

  He caressed her cheek and kissed her lips softly. “I just had a bad dream”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, holding on to his hand a moment longer, but Christopher slipped out of her reach and pushed the sheets away.

  “Yeah, I am just going to get some water downstairs. Go back to sleep, luv” he stood and, without saying another word, Christopher walked out of the room, his face serious and unreadable.

  Isabella stayed exactly where she was, sitting up on the bed, unsure of what had just happened.

  She watched him walk downstairs and laid back on the bed, only once he was out of sight.

  What’s going on in you
r head, Christopher?

  He had seemed okay the day before, when they had arrived in London.

  Even with the press, Christopher had seemed not at all bothered by their questions and their intruding.

  That’s just the problem, Isabella thought. He’s so good at guarding his feelings from the public, I don’t have a clue what’s really going on under that cool façade.

  She let out a deep breath and kept her eyes on the ceiling a moment longer.

  She thought about what some journalists had asked Christopher, the minute he had stepped outside the hospital. She tried to recall his face when one of them had attempted to bring his father in the conversation. Some simile, some anecdote.

  Half an hour had already gone by, when Isabella’s eyes snapped back open.

  Did I fall asleep again?

  She looked around. Someone –obviously Christopher- had pulled the covers on her and she was no longer on one side of the bed. Isabella had sprawled out, one leg curled on Christopher’s side.

  No sign of Christopher.

  She sat up quickly and caught a glimpse of the light coming from the big wooden window near the bed. It looked like the sun was about to rise.

  Christopher?

  Isabella wondered in the corridor and down the stairs, making the floor creak every time she took a step. Her bare feet touched the carpet on the ground floor and she welcomed the softness and warmth of the material for just a moment, just before peeking in the quiet, dark living room and stepping on the rough, cold, wooden floor near the fire place.

  Both the living room and the kitchen were in sight.

  Empty.

  A shiver ran down her spine then, as she turned around and moved towards the back of the house- in the music room, in his study, then in the gym and all the way to a part of the house she wasn’t familiar with.

  It was right in front of the garden patio, she could just barely make out the shape of the garage from one of the curtains of the large windows of the room. There was a hot tub, a sauna right next to it and then a small corridor that led to the farthest corner of the house.

  There was a door to her right. She went through it, stumbling into the darkness as she did, and found herself in a wide room she had never seen before.