Free Her Last Night of Innocence by India Grey

a hand over his face. ‘Did you tell me about it at the time?’
    Kate leaned her head back against the leather upholstery. She felt suddenly very tired. ‘Not while we were in the car.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘I was too scared to open my mouth then. But we talked about it…later.’
    God, she remembered it as if it was yesterday. She’d been so disapproving of Cristiano Maresca and what he did for a living, so determined to be cool and professional and not to be swayed by his legendary good-looks and notorious sex appeal. But the moment she’d reluctantly lowered herself into the passenger seat of his terrifying car her pretence at sophisticated detachment had been completely shattered. By the time they’d reached his villa in the hills she’d been a wreck—a fact that had been impossible to disguise. It had also broken down the professional distance between them.
    She closed her eyes, shifting restlessly in her seat as jaggedarrows of desire pierced her, not wanting to think about what had happened next.
    ‘Do you feel scared now?’
    In the velvet darkness behind her closed lids Cristiano’s voice was like gravel. But still it made her shiver, because it was the voice that she had heard in her dreams for so long.
    Mutely she shook her head.
    Not of the car or the road anyway. But the strength and force of her own longing, held in check for all these years, terrified her.
    As they drove further north the clouds parted and the stars came out. It was suddenly much colder. Stopping for petrol and to fit snow chains on the tyres, Cristiano could feel the ice in the air. The mountains lay all around, like giant slumberous beasts.
    Walking back to the car, after paying the awestruck teenage boy in the kiosk for the petrol, he flexed his cramped shoulders, putting off the moment when he’d have to get back into the driving seat. The Campano CX8 might be hailed as one of the fastest and most desirable cars in the world, but it wasn’t going to be winning any awards for its spacious interior. Something about the intimacy of the small space; the warmth inside and the cool scent of Kate Edwards’ skin, the darkness and cold outside, made him feel restless and edgy.
    As he reached the car he saw that she was still asleep, and felt an unfamiliar clenching sensation in his chest. Frustration, probably, he told himself sourly as he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. If he’d been alone he would have reached the chalet ages ago.
    Starting the engine, he thought about what she’d said. She’d been afraid in the car with him before, because of her brother. Did that explain why, from the moment they’d left Monte Carlo, he’d been driving with such uncharacteristic caution? On some level did he know about her fear? Somehow, somewhere in his head, did he remember ?
    His mind raced as possibilities rushed through it. Andhope. He’d recognised her. Not consciously, but as soon as he’d seen her at the party earlier he’d responded viscerally—physically, dammit—proving that his body remembered her even if his head didn’t. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? All those memories were there. He just needed to access them, and hopefully spending the next twenty-four hours with her would see to that.
    The powerful V8 engine gave a gratifying roar as he pulled away from the garage, the kiosk attendant watching open-mouthed through the window.
    There were lots of tunnels on the road up into the mountains, and every one he drove through brought his thoughts back to the one at Monaco, where his car had left the track and hit the barrier. He’d watched the footage countless times, but still he couldn’t remember it. Six weeks until the start of the season, he thought bleakly. Abandoning his rigorous training schedule at this stage was a huge gamble—God only knew what Silvio would say when he found out. But ultimately he had no choice. He’d do whatever it took, gamble everything he had, to get his life