Page 22 of Fast-Track Fiancé

The couple didn’t live on the estate, she learned, they instead ran a small restaurant in the nearby town along with their grown-up children. They invited them to come for dinner that evening, before bidding them farewell and leaving them alone.

‘So this place just sits here empty, year-round?’

‘My mother has held a few events here over the years but, yes, since my uncle’s passing, no one has lived here. This was his home and he commuted to the Falco headquarters every day. He even converted one of the villas on the property into a home for me. He loved it here. He had horses and dreamed of running his own personal tours for the public, free of charge, when he retired.’

But when they reached the end of the stables where a large building bridged off in a long rectangle, Tristan paused. Nina looked up, not missing the shutters that seemed to instantly come down, hardening his handsome features.

‘His garage,’ he said, reaching into his pocket to extract a key and placing it in her palm. ‘He had a few cars, so, while we’re here, you may as well select which model you would like to use for tomorrow.’

‘You don’t want to choose it with me?’ she asked, confused.

He shook his head, already turning away. ‘I need to do a walk around of the few setting locations while there is still light. The magazine’s team will be here early in the morning; it will save us time if they know where to set up.’

She nodded, watching him stride across the lawn. The doors to the garage were automatic and slid upwards with ease once she turned the key. She had only a few seconds of squinting into the darkness before lights flickered on overhead one by one, until the entire cavernous space was lit, revealing much more than the small collection of cars Tristan had intimated was in there.

Nina’s heart pumped in her chest as she began to walk along the rows, not quite knowing where to look first as she was met with what had to be around fifty perfectly preserved classic cars. Each one of them bearing her family’s symbol on their bonnet.

‘My God,’ she whispered, spotting a particular model given pride of place on a raised podium at the end of the hall. For a moment she contemplated dropping to her knees, feeling as though she had entered a hallowed space of some sort. She supposed, to people who worshipped cars, it didn’t really get much better than this.

The first edition Roux Motors coupe was one she had never actually seen in person, as only five had ever been built. Two had met their fate in fiery crashes in various parts of the globe and the other two that she knew of had been sold to collectors’ museums in Asia. This particular car had passed through a number of nameless private owners, as far as she knew. It had been the car used in a very famous film with an equally famous lead actor playing the role of a spy.

She ran her fingertips along the buttery soft column of the steering wheel, noting the fresh smell of leather polish and the lack of dust upon the bonnet. If this garage had been left unattended for as long as Tristan had said, that meant he was employing someone to keep them valeted. A person would only do that if they also cared about the vehicles within. No harm would come from letting a collection like this gather a little dust. But she could tell by the gleam on each of the cars, and the scent of pine in the air, that this collection was beloved. Polished and ready for display, as though the previous owner had never left.

The way Tristan had spoken of his uncle, the fact that he had been given his own home on the property... It spoke of a very close bond between the two men. Tristan had even said he’d been more like a father to him. And to think that Tristan had almost lost his life in the same aeroplane accident that had killed someone so important to him... It was more than she could bear thinking of.

When she finally tracked him down, he stood in the courtyard with an impressively large camera in his hands as he surveyed a particularly ragged-looking fallen tree trunk in the woodland that bordered the property.

‘You see one you liked?’ he asked, the sound of the camera shutter flicking periodically as he changed view and moved back and forth a few steps.

‘I feel like I just went to church.’ She came to a stop by his side, peering over his shoulder to take in the image he’d captured of a butterfly landing on one of the craggy branches.

‘I thought you’d feel that way. Half of all the Roux Motors’ models ever made are in there, if not more,’ Tristan murmured, clearing his throat as he continued to glower down at the fallen tree. ‘He was only missing four that he wanted, before he...well, before. When the news broke that your father was selling his collection, he was one of the first to bid.’

She pursed her lips, remembering that chaotic time when her father’s scandalous gambling debts and impending bankruptcy had been all over the news. The Falco plane crash had happened that same week. In another universe, how might it have gone if instead of Alain taking the helm, Tristan’s uncle had bought them out and preserved Roux Motors with all of the passion she’d felt in that garage?

‘He used to joke that he would name the first car he produced the Dulce Diablo after my mother. My mother always teased him for his collection and how much time he spent there, leaving all the party invitations to her. But he was obsessed.’

‘I would have got along quite well with him, I’d imagine,’ Nina mused, sitting down upon the thick trunk of the fallen tree. ‘We’d have shared a bond in our fascination over cars and engines...and you.’

‘You’re fascinated with me, hmm?’ Tristan asked, holding the camera up to his eye again and flicking the shutter a few times.

‘I am. Hopelessly so.’ Nina felt the air shift around them from his difficult past, the sunlight dappling her skin as if to remind her that she was in fact here right now. Living in the moment, as he’d said before. He was so tense, so burdened by the memory of being here in this place. Maybe she could help him with that, give him some new, happier memories. Making the decision to be brave, she slid down one strap of her dress.

CHAPTER EIGHT

BEING BACK IN the home where he had shared so many happy memories with his uncle and aunt before they’d both died had already put Tristan on edge for most of the day. But that was nothing compared to the torture of watching Nina slide down the straps of her summer dress. The loose cotton material easily skimmed over her toned curves, before sliding down to pool around her ankles, leaving her in skimpy underwear.

‘Shoes on or off?’ she asked meekly, kicking the dress to one side and leaning back against the tree trunk.

‘Shoes?’

She smiled, gesturing down to the trainers she still wore. ‘The magazine wants me to be in swimwear tomorrow, so I feel like these should come off too, no?’

The simple yes that escaped his lips was little more than a croak, and he cleared his throat, frowning down at the display of his camera to click a few random buttons. He was doing absolutely nothing productive of course; with his automatic high-grade apparatus a lot of it was done automatically.

‘Is that completely necessary?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grunted a reply, getting down into a crouch in the grass. He narrowed his eyes on her, suddenly realising what kind of game his little cat was playing. He’d denied her request last night, not willing to risk her injuries might be more serious than either of them had assumed. But now, apart from a little light bruising here and there, she was most certainly fighting fit and determined to break down his chivalrous control in whatever way she could.

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