Drive Her Mad (THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE POP DIVA VOL. 3) (7 page)

“They like Hollywood?”

“No, they like your music.”

She raised a skeptical brow. “Huh? Those tough guys listen to my music?”

“Your music is…fantastic. I love it. They love it.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve never listened to my music before. You listen to Kelly Rowland.”

“But I have.”

She groaned. “Oh god. They saw that video.”

He grinned at her like a tomcat. “I want to get jealous but I’d rather feel smug. You broke your cherry riding my bull. They can only dream of it.”

She pinched his side and couldn’t help giggling at his sporadic sense of humor which perfectly hit the mark every time.

He suddenly lifted her in his arms. She squealed, laughing. He strode toward the bathroom, put her in the shower cubicle and closed the glass door.

“Five minutes,
cara.
I’ll wait here.”

She opened the shower door. “Aren’t you joining me?” she asked him seductively.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at her nakedness. “If I join you, we’re going to stay there for a good hour. We’ve a dozen guests waiting for us downstairs,
piccola
.” He touched his now bulging fly. “Please, don’t make it harder for me.”

Giggling, she closed the shower door again.

Valenna changed her mind.
Giane’s off-road racing buddies were not crazy. They were some of the coolest guys she’d met in a while.

There was an awkward moment when she first entered the den. All the rambunctious noise evaporated like mist under the desert heat when they saw her.

She broke the ice from the get go. “Sorry, guys. It’s disappointing, I know. What you saw in the video,” She drew two huge circles in front of her chest with her forefingers, “were just camera tricks. Watch Nikki Minaj’s vids. Her booty needs no cam tricks.”

Laughter erupted in the room.

The chalet’s resident chefs, Nonito, an Italian, and Courtney, a French, served a sumptuous meal that looked like a food fest. The dozen testosterone-driven men in the room all dug in with gusto. She noticed the camaraderie, the respect they accorded each other. Their high regard for Giane was apparent as they all addressed him as
Padrino
.

To her surprise, the company of these extremely alpha males who spoke English with thick Scandinavian accents was quite interesting and fun. She met Jonas again and learned he was a master off-road racer from Iceland but worked as Giane’s trainer and chief mechanic. These men were in fact Giane’s business partners in his Zoldatti Off-road Formula franchise that had professional tracks in several countries.

She questioned them about the safety of the sport and she found out most of her fears were unfounded. This type of racing was dangerous but oddly enough, few accidents had happened since its conception. The drivers trained for years and the trucks they used, a buggy-type vehicle specially constructed for very rough terrains and gravity-defying stunts were relatively safe to use. The drivers wore suits that resembled a body armor, well-crafted full-face helmets and neck braces.

Still, the image of Giane’s truck tumbling like a turtle box down the hill was not something she would forget for months. Let them do those crazy stunts, not her Giane. He was better off with the usual formula racing on flat tracks. Better for her peace of mind, that was.

HER Giane? Careful, careful.

She ignored her inner guard. She felt too good to kill the buzz. Not yet. She had a few days left.

They were holding hands under the table, exchanging lazy glances, their eyes communicating. She was now wondering about what Giane said to her. He said people hated him, that he didn’t have many friends. Looking at these men who obviously loved and respected him as their employer and friend, it was hard to comprehend.

She was the only woman in the room but she blended in pretty well. These guys were all funny, smart and real gentlemen. Not once did she catch any of them looking at her in anything but a respectful manner. They were not awestruck by her celebrity, which was quite refreshing.

When all the guests had departed,
they went hand in hand to the balcony as they had been doing every night the past few days.

She was lying between his legs, her back to his chest as they sipped Zoldatti Brunello Riserva, staring at the moon and the stars.

“You’re an only child, right?” she asked him.

“Yes.”

“A mechanical engineering graduate of University of Cambridge. Did I say wow to that already?”

“You’ve been googling me.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help it. How did you manage college and car racing at the same time? I barely managed to finish high school with home school program.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten to college if not for an accident.”

“What accident?”

“I had a skiing accident when I was eighteen. I couldn’t drive for a year so I went to college.

Because I was already a professional driver at that time and most likely because my grandfather donated a wing in one of the new buildings there, they gave me concession to continue my course under a special program which was flexible to my racing schedules. It took me six years to complete the course.”

“Maybe I can do that, too. Find a college who can give me a flexible program. I’ve always wanted to finish a degree.”

“Yes, why not? What would you like to take?”

“I don’t know. Maybe an art or humanities course. Film. Or music.”

“Go for it,
piccola.
”

“Is it true that you dated Tamara Ecclestone?”

He grunted. “What garbage have you been reading about me?”

“It’s actually in your wiki.”

“In my wiki? Who writes that on someone’s wiki? I thought wiki is respectable.”

“People can edit your wiki, you know?”

“They can? I thought it’s written by professionals based on facts.”

“The internet is a no man’s land. So, did you date her?”

“She’s a good friend. His father, Bernie is the one I’m close to. That guy is a genius in the racing business. He encouraged me with my off-road franchise, helped me set it up with the sponsors.”

“What about Jennifer Woo?”

He groaned in exasperation. “You’re pulling my leg. Wiki didn’t write that.”

“Wanna bet?” She picked up her MacBook from the side table and flipped it open. She went to his wiki. “There, your relationships. You have seven high-profile ones mentioned here, so far.”

“
Che cazzo...?!
And who are they?”

“It says here, Tamara, Jennifer, Paris—”

He emitted a disgruntled sound. “I didn’t know my wiki contains this nonsense. I have to call my publicist to have that portion deleted.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re rubbish and untrue.”

“These women were never your girlfriends?”

“No.”

“Lovers?”

He sighed. “Who else are on the list?”

She mentioned four more.

“At least they got two correctly.”

She really didn’t wanna ask who among the four were his past lovers. Those women were all gorgeous and successful in different fields. One was a famous supermodel turned fashion mogul from London, one was a champion equestrian princess! The other two were a journalist countess and a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. She couldn’t help the insecurity that assaulted her.

“You said you can edit it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, edit it. Delete that part.”

“Okay…” She clicked the “edit” button and deleted the list of women. She clucked her tongue. “Now, your wiki looks boring.”

He snorted. “Better boring than annoying.”

She slowly grinned and began to type.

“What are you typing?”

“Adding new facts.”

“What new facts?”

“About your…uhm, high-profile association with a woman.”

“And who is this woman?”

“Wait…” She finished typing and hit “save”.

“There!” She lifted the laptop so that he can read what she typed.

Gianfranco made headlines this year as the one who won the bid in the most talked about auction in the history of auctions, the Popping the Pop Diva virginity auction, wherein singer Valenna Jones gave up her cherry to Giane to the whopping tune of 50 million dollars.

He burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you wrote that.”

“At least you publicly owned up to that fact yourself at my presscon.”

“
Cara
, you’re crazy. Now I have a new title in my wiki aside from champion driver. Cherry- popper. Wynona will have a heart attack when she sees that. She’s been having seizures already when I crashed your presscon. She said my endorsement deals will all drop me and she’s been busting her ass off for years to close them.”

“Who’s Wynona?”

“My publicist and business manager.”

“Oh. I was just kidding. I’ll delete it now.”

“No, leave it.”

“Of course we can’t leave it there. Was just cracking you up, silly!”

“No, let’s leave it there. It’s public knowledge anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It is a fact I’m quite proud of and a history I’d like to be archived in my wiki.”

“Uhm, okay.” The pride in his voice tickled her senseless. It was the ultimate compliment. He was proud of her cherry. It was like framing the blood stains of her virginity and hanging it in his family museum. Even better. On his wiki! Frosh! Epic!

He hugged her from behind, lacing their fingers together. “So, how did you find the guys?”

“Aren’t you too young to be called
Padrino
? It means godfather, right?”

“I told them that but they won’t listen.”

“I guess because they admire you very much.”

He grunted as if embarrassed.

“Hmm, or maybe they fancy themselves working for a billionaire mob boss.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I think you’re so hung up on my mob connections. Does it turn you on?”

She shuddered in mock horror. “Please, I don’t want the FBI on my trail. I’m having enough trouble with the IRS.”

“What’s with the IRS?”

She sighed, reminded of her financial glitch. “My former accountant failed to declare a huge percentage of my endorsement earnings for two years. Can you believe the incompetence of some people you pay good money to make things easier for you? Now the IRS wants me to pay up right away.”

“That sucks. How much do you owe the IRS?”

“A substantial amount which is being taken care of now. I shouldn’t worry. I have your money now to pay it off, so…” she joked.

“Just tell me if you need help.”

“Really?” She was surprised and amused by how he was responding to her joke. She guessed billionaires didn’t worry about millions. Fifty million dollars was probably just loose change to him. “That’s so kind of you. Do you make a habit of offering to pay off your lover’s debt?”

“No. The offer is only for you.”

“Why only me?”

“Because you make me laugh. A lot. Nobody makes me laugh like you do.”

She felt like her chest would burst with the sudden pressure of emotions that rose up inside her. This man knew how to seduce with words. What woman won’t feel limp like a giddy Jell-O upon hearing that? Her eyes watered and she tried to be flippant. “That’s so generous of you but I have enough money at the bank, thank you. Oh shit!”

“What…?”

“I just realized, the rags are gonna hit me with that one day soon. Once they’d run out of things to write about me, once they’d wrung the auction story dry, they’d create another angle. That’s an angle they can use! I can feel it!”

“You seem to know the paparazzi too well.”

“What can you expect? I’ve been living with them for a decade now. In my line of profession, they’re a necessary evil. They keep you popular but you have to take it their way. But I’m gonna beat them to it. I’m gonna make my Art for Freedom project very public. Turn it into a reality show even. I can make more money for the project and show the public in the process how I’m spending every penny of your 50 million dollars.”

“Did you just come up with a television show while we’re discussing your IRS debt?”

She laughed. “Kinda.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re a genius.”

“They can call me a lot of things but please, nothing that involves fraud.”

“How you’re going to spend the money is your business,
cara.
You earned it by giving away your cherry, not from donations. There’s no fraud there.”

“Well, just to make sure…”

“I think they’re not going for that angle. They have a hotter cash cow that’s going to last for some time and make more money…that is if you want it to last for some time.”