‘Sure.’ Gianna glanced over Isabella’s shoulder, then gave her a mischievous grin. ‘But looking at your Perfect Match, you might want to consider just a little romance this week.’
Isabella’s heart thudded in her chest as she realised she wanted that. She wanted to find someone to talk with, relax with, laugh with, even love with, in a way she’d hadn’t in so long. In a way she’d stopped hoping for.
But what was the point, if it was only for one week?
She shook her head. ‘No, Gianna. A friend is one thing. Anything else is—’
‘Against The Rules,’ her friend finished for her, rolling her eyes.
‘Yes.’ But it wasn’t just The Rules, Isabella realised. It was the risk. To her reputation, her family...her heart. She’d risked it all for love once before. It wasn’t a mistake she intended to make again.
Gianna was still staring blatantly at the glass-fronted villa where Isabella’s perfect match was waiting. If she wanted this week away from reality, Isabella knew she had to turn now. Had to see what sort of person M had decided was right for her. Had to open up her mind and her heart to the possibility of a friendship beyond The Rules.
Sucking in a deep breath, Isabella turned slowly to face the villa on the lake, and stared up through the glass to the man standing, one hand on his hip, the other holding a phone to his ear, looking down at them from what had to be the bedroom.
Was he really so tall, or was it just because she was looking up at him? Either way, the glass and the distance between them couldn’t hide his admirable figure—the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles showing through the tight T-shirt he wore, or the long legs with their thick thighs... His black hair was cropped short, his skin as tanned and warm as her own Mediterranean complexion.
He was, she had to admit, the best-looking man she’d ever been set up on a date with. But then, the bar for that had never been particularly high.
Most of all, though, he looked like trouble.
He looked down, and her breath caught in her chest as his gaze met hers.
Maybe Madison knows what she’s doing, she thought as the funny feeling in her chest moved lower, turning warmer. Maybe this guy wasn’t her perfect match, but she couldn’t deny the heat she felt at the idea of a week alone with him.
She pushed it aside. A new friend, that was what she was looking for here.
Even if that new friend looked like sin and risk and everything she’d spent every moment since Nathanial avoiding. She couldn’t imagine what M thought they’d have in common, but she supposed there must be something. As Gianna said, they’d been matched on their personalities, first and foremost.
‘So, you’re going in?’ Gianna asked, a giggle in her voice.
Isabella swallowed. ‘Well, I’ve come this far.’ She’d already left all but one of her security staff at the airport, lied to her parents about where she was, and apparently dragged Sofia in on the deception. ‘What’s one week?’
One small risk—a week away, getting to know a new friend. After that, she’d go back to The Rules. She’d be Princess Isabella again, and everything that entailed.
But first, she’d have this one week of freedom.
With him.
* * *
Matteo Rossi stared out over Lake Geneva through the huge panes of glass that spanned the whole front of the villa. It was quite the view, he had to admit that. The lake glistening in the late-afternoon sun, the snow-peaked mountains in the distance, even in June. And it was definitely in the middle of nowhere—which he was pretty sure his management team had insisted on. Nowhere for him to get into trouble, and wasn’t that the whole point of this week?
‘So, it’s nice?’ his manager, Gabe, asked on the other end of the phone line, probably happily ensconced in his office in Rome, preparing for the next race. A race where Matteo pointedly wasn’t driving, even though his broken leg had healed perfectly well already. ‘Madison promised it would be nice.’
Ah, yes, the famous Madison Morgan. Former child actress and now the owner of the M dating agency, the latest strategy Gabe and the others had hit on to slow him down, and the reason he was now stuck in Switzerland and not on the racetrack where he belonged.
‘It’s fine,’ Matteo said dismissively. He’d stayed in some of the finest hotels in the world, from Abu Dhabi to Las Vegas and home to Rome. This villa was just a building, impressive though it was.
‘And is she there yet?’ There was a knowing lilt in Gabe’s voice, a teasing note. Because Gabe wasn’t talking about Madison, of course.
He was talking about Matteo’s Perfect Match.
Matteo rolled his eyes just thinking the words.
‘No, she’s not here yet.’ But then he looked down at the terrace outside the villa and saw two women talking. One—with caramel hair and a skirt suit—was obviously talking a mile a minute, if the way her hands were waving around was anything to go by. She was pretty, Matteo conceded. But his attention was already held by the other woman, the one with her back to him.
Dark curls tumbled down her back, loose and wild, falling almost to where her waist nipped in before curving out over generous hips. From what he could tell from behind, she had her arms folded in front of her, one hip tilted out as she stood, as if she was listening to what her companion had to say but didn’t really believe it.
Her. He felt the word run through his body more than he consciously thought it, but he knew in an instant it was true. If she wasn’t the woman Madison had picked for his perfect match, then the woman was doing her job wrong.
Suddenly, the idea of this week in exile wasn’t looking quite so bad.
Except, no. Because whichever woman was here to meet him, she’d be expecting something he couldn’t give. The M agency didn’t do booty calls; his perfect match was expecting true love. Commitment. Forever.
Matteo had far too many adventures in his future to even think about settling down with someone. Which meant he couldn’t give the woman the wrong idea.
Still, they’d been matched on personality, so hopefully hanging out with her for a week wouldn’t be too bad. They could blow this place and go explore the region. There had to be some interesting things to do around here, and, if she was his perfect match, she’d be up for an adventure.
Just as long as he made it clear she couldn’t expect anything more.
‘Are you looking forward to meeting her?’ Gabe asked. Was it just guilt keeping his manager on the line so long? He’d sent Matteo here, away from his team, away from racing. They’d told him it was for his own good—a treat, even. But Matteo knew the truth.
This was a last-ditch attempt to repair his reputation—and his sponsorship deals. Apparently some of his most recent adventures had cut a bit too close to the line. Were they hoping that the lure of true love would tame him? Stop him chasing after the next adventure, taking bigger risk after bigger risk?
If they were, they were going to be disappointed.
‘I guess,’ he replied. After all, he wanted to save those sponsorship deals, too. Not to mention his career. He’d already made more money than he could spend in a lifetime, on and off the track. But if he didn’t have racing, his dream career, what would he do?
Whose dream career? The whispered question in the back of his mind surprised him.
See, this was what happened when he slowed down. He started thinking. And unless he was thinking about speed and angles and winning, what was the point? As a rule, Matteo getting all introspective wasn’t good for anybody. He acted, that was who he was. Who he’d always been.
Only since Giovanni died.
That voice. Matteo shook it away and turned his attention back to the women by the lake instead. Women, he understood. The thoughts that came to him late at night, or when he wasn’t distracted by something fun...those he didn’t want to understand.
But as he looked
down, he realised the woman with the dark hair, his possible perfect match, had turned around to face him. Even through the glass, and over the distance between them, he felt it the moment her gaze met his. A feeling that hit his chest and spread through his body. And he wasn’t entirely sure he understood that, either.
It was just her curves, he told himself. The way her folded arms highlighted her perfect breasts, the narrowness of her waist and the arch of her hips. Or her mouth, full and luscious. A purely physical reaction to a beautiful woman, nothing more. Of course, it was.
‘It’s just one week, Matteo,’ Gabe was saying, when he finally tuned back into the phone conversation. ‘Just...stay out of trouble this week. Finish healing.’
‘My leg—’
‘I know, I know. The doctors said it was fine, but they also said not to push it too far, too soon. And that’s basically your motto in life, so...just take the week. When you get back, we’ll come up with the next stage of the plan to get you back out on the racetrack. But, Matteo?’
There was something in his manager’s voice that made him nervous. ‘Yeah?’
‘If you did happen to come out of this week happy, in love and ready to settle down with the love of your life... I don’t think any of your sponsors would be disappointed.’
Because as much as they wanted the maverick, risky moves that won races, they needed him to appear a good role model for the younger fans, responsible enough that people trusted the things he was selling, however tangentially.
How do they expect me to be a champion and a boring, stay-at-home guy, all at the same time? The adrenaline was in his blood. The need to live life to the fullest, to chase every dream, tackle every challenge, beat every odd—on the track and off.
Except, the last time he’d gone adventuring, the odds had beaten him. Calling Gabe from the hospital to admit that he’d broken his leg while cliff diving, two weeks before the Dutch Grand Prix, had not been his finest moment.
Everyone wanted him to slow down—just not when he was behind the wheel.
Matteo sighed. ‘Message received.’ He hung up.
Down below, the terrace was empty—and he heard the electric buzz of the front door closing and locking behind whoever had just keyed in the confidential code. A code only he and the woman who was supposed to be his perfect match had.
No sign of the other woman outside, either, so he couldn’t know exactly who was waiting for him downstairs—he just hoped he was right in his guess.
He didn’t believe for a moment that some agency could find him his dream woman based on a questionnaire—one he’d been forced to fill in while still in the hospital—or a brief video interview, which he’d done with his leg in plaster, propped up on Gabe’s coffee table.
But if the right woman was waiting downstairs—if she really was a match for his restless, reckless spirit—they might at least have found a way to stop him thinking too much. And Matteo would take that as good enough for now.
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9781488073878
From Best Friend to Fiancée
Copyright © 2021 by Ellie Darkins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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From Best Friend to Fiancée Page 16
