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The trolley was heaving with meats and sausages from the barbecue going on by the poolside, Stefano informed them. Warm focaccia bread, with olive oil and garlic sauces, and an assortment of salads were unearthed from beneath domed dishes.
Dismissing Stefano, Draco heaped a plate with food and set her tray down on her lap. After seeing to his own, he sat down next to her. They ate in companionable silence, for once at ease with each other’s company.
Her insides clenched momentarily at the thought of the tight secret lodged inside her. She’d thrown caution to the wind and told him as much as she could about her relationship with her father. Despite Draco’s harsh views, she knew he wouldn’t go after her father as long as she kept up her end of the bargain.
She was used to flying through the air without a safety harness or a net to break her fall. Ski jumping was one of the riskiest sports out there, and yet she’d thrown herself into it without a backward glance.
She glanced at Draco and found his gaze, direct and intense, on her.
Perhaps it was time to take a different, equally exhilarating, risk.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SOUND OF the door shutting woke Rebel in the early hours. She’d said goodnight to Draco shortly after their meal last night with an arrangement to head out to the gym at five a.m.
Turning over in bed, she stretched her limbs, groaning with relief at the most restful sleep she’d had since her father’s letter had brought her nightmares about losing her mother surging back. She hadn’t even needed her earphones to drown out the demons.
Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was only four-fifteen. Had Draco headed out to get his own training in before he trained with her? Pushing aside the covers, she sprang out of bed. On the off-chance she was mistaken, she peeked into the living room. The sofa bed had been tucked away and the sheets folded up.
Deciding to join him, Rebel changed into her exercise gear, caught up her phone and earphones, and left the suite. Knowing she would get lost if she tried the shortcut, she went through the villa, unease striking all over again at the gratuitous display of Carla Nardozzi’s pictures and trophies.
She stepped out into the crisp air, thankful that the whole estate was well lit. After stretching her arms and legs, she placed her earphones in and struck out in the direction of the facility.
The studio door stood ajar when she reached it. She slipped in and muted her music.
The cry from the direction of the ice rink froze her steps.
Changing direction, she entered the room to witness the tail end of an argument between Carla and Tyson Blackwell. He had her gripped by the arms, Carla’s whimper echoing across the room.
‘You want to win another glitzy trophy? Then do what I tell you to do!’
‘A triple axel into a death spiral sounds insane!’
‘Damn it, maybe I am wasting my time with you. All your competitors are doing it. Fail to master it and you can kiss your career goodbye.’
He flung her away from him. Carla tried to catch herself but went sprawling onto the ice.
Rebel stepped into the light. ‘Hey, you can’t talk to her like that!’
Tyson whirled from his fallen victim. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Someone who can see that you’re pushing her way too hard.’
He shooed her away. ‘The way I run my training programme is none of your business. Now, I suggest you clear off.’
‘I’m not going anywhere. Unless Mr Nardozzi decides to throw me out, of course.’ From the corner of her eye, she saw Carla drag herself up and totter on her blades.
Turning, shock slammed through Rebel at the full blast of the younger girl’s glare before Carla carefully schooled her features.
‘She’s my father’s guest. She’s here with Draco Angelis.’
Even from several dozen feet away, Rebel saw malicious interest spark in his eyes. Leaving Carla’s side, he slid across the ice to her.
‘So you’re Angelis’ little piece on the side I’ve heard so much about this past week.’ His head tilted. ‘You look familiar. Do I know you?’ A suggestive leer draped his face.
‘Yeah, in your dreams.’
The leer evaporated. ‘This is a training session, not a spectator event. Please leave.’
Rebel looked past him to where Carla stood, a forlorn figure in the centre of the ice rink. About to call out to her, she spun at the sound of thundering footsteps.
‘Arabella!’
The urgency in Draco’s deep voice sent a delicious spark down her spine. ‘In here,’ she called out.
He surged into the room a second later, his eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on her. ‘You were supposed to wait for me—’ He froze as he spotted Tyson Blackwell. Then he looked past him to where Carla was poised.
