Page 2 of Driving the Billionaire Wild

From what she could ascertain from the grainy footage, the clip had been captured some time during the aftermath of yesterday’s funeral, at which the entire Accardi family had been in attendance, including Apollo. She cleared her throat, ignoring the now familiar frisson of butterflies inher stomach at the sight of their star driver, stony-faced as he pushed his way through a throng of paparazzi.

The Accardis were practically royalty to their Italian following and their patriarch’s death had brought the entire country to a standstill with an outpouring of grief. The biggest names in racing had flocked to the north of Italy over the past few days to pay their respects at a sombre funeral ceremony that Astrid had watched on live stream from her London home.

‘One of the Accardi cousins was ranting on social media,’ Tristan sighed. ‘The man was drunk, openly accusing Apollo of being glad the old man is dead, that their estrangement was what killed his grandfather.’

‘That’s low, even forthem.’ Astrid shook her head.

‘Apollo is refusing to take calls and I was already halfway to Buenos Aires when I was notified about him trying to break his contract. I need you to fix this.’

She pulled up another photo from the funeral, this one of Apollo standing next to his father, Santo Accardi, a world-famous actor. His mother, renowned film director, Leona Hart, had also been in attendance, despite their messy public divorce more than two decades before. Apollo had inherited the best of both of his parents’ good looks, with his Grenadian mother’s dark complexion and his Italian father’s chiselled jawline.

She stared at Apollo’s tight expression on her screen a little longer than necessary. Even in grief, the man was far too good-looking; perhaps that was why Astrid always felt uneasy in his presence. The few times she’d found herself alone with him in the past year, she’d found herself tripping over her words. His gaze always seemed to feel a little too intense; it was as if she could feel the heatof it upon her skin. Which was completely ridiculous, of course; she knew that. She’d long considered herself immune to the charms of the wealthy athletes she represented, but something about Apollo had always made her feel… .off-balance. So much so that she’d actually taken to avoiding in-person meetings with him, opting instead to send other members of her team.

She was by no means a coward, but she also was not a saint. Apollo was a flirt, and a damned good one at that. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that his flirtations were anything more than another passing moment for him, but for her, they lit up something needy and foolish inside her that she’d long thought buried. He was a distraction she could not afford, and yet here she was, pulling up alone outside his palatial Lake Como estate.

With two famous parents and a billion-dollar sports fashion empire of his own, Apollo was the kind of household name that didn’t require much PR. The man never seemed to rest.

‘The real boss is being called in to clean up this mess, I see.’ Nina Roux appeared over Tristan’s shoulder. ‘I thought you promised your kiddo that you’d take the month of August off?’

Astrid took in the easy familiarity between her boss and their second-seat driver. It was hard to believe it had been only a year since the scandal that had resulted in them falling in love during the last Elite One summer break.

‘I am taking it off, once I sort this out.’ Astrid frowned, thinking of how disappointed her son Luca had been that morning when she’d said she needed to make justone morequick trip for work. He loved his cool young nannyJem, but had been eager for quality time with his mummy. ‘He wasn’t happy, but I’ve bribed him with unlimited tours of the transport museum when I get back.’

‘Six-year-olds are so easy.’ Nina laughed, the other woman clearly remembering her own recent experience of the little boy’s fascination with museum tours and collections. Nina, being autistic like Luca, had a special connection with him, something Astrid was very grateful for.

‘Almost seven now,’ she corrected, remembering she still had to decide on a birthday gift for her not-so-baby boy. They’d been to every exhibit in England at least once but the London Transport Museum was his current favourite. Sadness welled within her when she remembered his stony face as she’d explained she had to leave. He was very selective about when he chose to use verbal communication, but boy, could he cut her down with just a look. She would happily take him to the museum every single day to make up for breaking her promise.

‘Can you fix this, Astrid?’ Tristan asked. ‘We can’t lose him right now.’

‘The guy is just grieving in his own way,’ Nina said, a frown marring her dark brow. ‘Everyone acts out of character or loses it in a crisis. Except maybe Astrid, of course.’

Astrid pursed her lips in a weak attempt at a smile, trying and failing not to remember the only nightshe’dever acted out of character—a time when her own inner chaos had led her to lose herself in sensual abandon with a mysterious stranger—and the permanent reminder she’d been gifted from it. No one knew the truth of how she’d come to be a single mother—heavy emphasis on ‘single’. Of course, she wouldn’t change a thing, but still she lookedaway as her boss turned to whisper something into his fiancée’s ear that made the other woman instantly blush. The easy intimacy made something twist momentarily in Astrid’s chest before she quickly pushed it away.

Tristan eyed her with curiosity. ‘If you’d rather be with Luca, of course Nina and I can change our travel plans and return.’

Astrid sighed, knowing that Luca would be fine if she worked an extra day to sort this out. She had vast experience in pulling drivers back from poor decision-making in the heat of a crisis. She recalled Apollo’s reaction on the day his grandfather had died: how lost he’d looked; how she’d wished she could shield him from the camera flashes and cruel questions.

‘I can fix this,’ she said finally. ‘You pay me because I’m the best at handling temperamental racing drivers. Leave Apollo Accardi to me.’

Chapter Two

ASTRID SLAMMED THEdoor of the horrendous taxi behind her and hoisted her petite overnight bag onto her shoulder, gripping her briefcase in the other hand. While the flight from London to Milan had been relatively straightforward and pleasant, everything since her arrival had been utter chaos. A baggage handler strike had caused massive queues, with her private chauffeur having a breakdown and no replacement being available for hours, so she’d eventually capitulated and booked a taxi, thinking, how bad could it be?

Pretty bad, it had turned out. The man had had her clinging to the door handle as he’d careened around every back road from the city out to the picturesque little lakeside town where the Accardi family brand had been born, a town that was currently in the peak of the summer tourist season. All of that, only to make it to the gates of the address Tristan had provided to find a crowd of photographers and a trio of bullish security guards preventing her entry. She’d shown her PR credentials, and they’d eventually cleared her entry on their ear pieces, but her taxi was not allowed in, so she’d been forced to haul her small overnight bag and briefcase up the mile-long gravelled drive—in five-inch heels, no less.

Her chest heaved with a mixture of exertion and outrage as she rounded a cherub-filled fountain and looked up at the façade of an impressive lakefront villa that she was pretty sure she had seen before in a movie.

It was no secret that Elite One racing drivers had wealth, but the sprawling Lombardy estate seemed to be on a whole other level of ostentation. She found herself letting out a little, ‘Woo,’ as a butler opened the arched double front-door and descended the steps to greet her, white gloves and all.

‘Come in, quickly,’ the elderly man said, his melodic voice completely at odds with the deep scowl that dominated his face.

Astrid frowned as she was hurried inside to a grand hall with marble and gold gilt everywhere she looked. She didn’t have much of a chance to take it all in, however, as a trio of beautiful women dressed in black descended the grand staircase at the end of the hall in a fit of giggles. She recognised one of them as a model she had managed for an Elite One clothing campaign a number of years before, and tipped her head in brief greeting. The women’s heels clicked along the tiles, smiles fading as they caught sight of her and the butler, who was evidently even less amused by their appearance than he had been at Astrid’s.

‘Scusate, guests may only exit by water taxi.’ The butler gestured wildly with a thoroughly Italian hand gesture. ‘One moment,signorina.’

‘Apollo is expecting me,’ she lied confidently, adjusting the strap on her briefcase with an air of impatience. ‘If you can just point me in his direction.’

The man hesitated a moment, but Astrid raised one delicate brow and waited. To her relief, he sighed and rattledoff brief directions before guiding the other women through a set of double doors, leaving her alone.