His to Defend - Em Petrova Page 0,74
side of the track, speaking to a reporter, and her heart stopped at the sudden memory flooding into her mind.
How could she be so sure this was Pierre? She’d been fooled once before.
Don’t be silly. It’s Pierre.
She moved up beside him, drawing a deep breath and secretly hoping to catch a whiff of the pine she recalled so vividly from Lars. When she only breathed in a hint of Pierre’s expensive cologne, she tried not to notice how her stomach fell in disappointment.
She put a hand on Pierre’s arm, and he smiled at her. To the reporter, he said, “Have you met my press agent? She’s absolutely amazing.”
Someone snapped a photo of Pierre, and then the camera turned her direction. She smiled and nodded, acting as though she wasn’t still dying inside. Only days had passed, she reminded herself continually. Eventually she would draw a breath without thinking of Lars. But not today.
Pierre excused himself from the questioning and pulled Lillian to the side. His eyes sparkled. “You’ve done so much for my career, Lillian. I owe you so much.”
She returned his smile. “I’m glad things are going as planned.” She turned her face toward the glass-fronted VIP boxes where Franco sat waiting for her. “Your new producer is watching your every move, so make sure you get that win today.”
Pierre waved a hand in his confident manner. “The win is inevitable. Come, give me a kiss for luck.” He leaned in and offered his fresh-shaven cheek.
Laughing, she pressed a kiss to it. When she drew away, she could only think of Lars kissing her goodbye. Pain zigzagged through her chest.
“I’m going to pop up and say hello to Mr. Franco before the race begins.”
Pierre glanced behind her to a beefy man who’d been tailing her every step. “Take Robert with you.”
“I will. Thank you for seeing to my safety.” Pierre hired them each bodyguards, insisting they would never live through another ordeal like the one at Le Mans.
“Of course.”
“Good luck, Pierre.” She threw him a wave and headed toward the VIP box. Robert trailed behind her, giving her more space than Lars ever had. She experienced another pang, this one not as deep. Maybe she was healing.
After a brief conversation with Monsieur Franco, she continued on to her own box. The quiet room offered several screens of the racetrack all from air conditioned comfort. As she closed the door, she sent a smile of thanks to Robert, who remained outside.
Lillian swept into the plush leather seat and peered down at the track. Pierre’s car no longer sported the sponsor decals of Brun’s company. Instead, the brand-new orange stickers of the new sponsor stood out like suns on his car. While she wasn’t certain of Brun’s fate, she knew she no longer had to fear him.
The pit crews rushed around, doing last-minute checks. She held her breath, too afraid the past race would play out a second time. She never wanted to see another crash like that again.
Her phone rang, and she smiled at the familiar number. “Hello, Mère,” she greeted her mother.
“Hello, my darling. Your father is on the call too.”
“How are you, Papa?”
“Missing my daughter, but very proud of her.”
Lillian warmed from the praise.
“Today is the first race, Lillian. How are you feeling?” her mother asked.
One of the first things she’d done after arriving in France was drive to her parents’ home and tell them everything, from beginning to end. She didn’t even leave out the fact she’d fallen in love with her bodyguard. Her parents were close enough to her to know if she held back. Of course, many tears had been shed, of fear and relief both, and she reassured them she was fine and it was all over. She’d even offered them seats here today to watch the race with her, though they preferred to watch from their cozy armchairs at home.
“I have the utmost confidence in Pierre’s skills today,” she said to her parents.
“He will be fantastique. Will you come for a visit this weekend? I have a nice leg of lamb for dinner.”
“Yes, I’d love to join you.” She tracked Pierre as he raised a hand to the crowd and received a resounding cheer before climbing into his car.
“We’ll see you soon, then, Lillian. The race is about to start, and you need all your concentration. We love you!”
“Je t’aime,” she returned, her voice faltering over the words, and for the man who would never hear those words from her lips.
Leaning forward, she