“Without a doubt,” Michelle said warmly.
Vanni noticed Emma’s bewildered look. “Michelle was kind enough to go to the Breakers and choose your wardrobe for your stay here,” Vanni said under his breath.
“Oh, thank you!” Emma said. “You did an excellent job.”
“Have you actually seen your inheritance?” Michelle asked her with a dry smile. Emma shook her head. “It would have been hard to go wrong. That closet is as large as our bedroom,” she told Dean, “and stuffed to the brim with clothes, most of which still have tags on them, and shoes and every geegaw you can imagine.”
“Vanni’s aunt—Vera, that is—seems very fashionable. She must have been a good assistant to help you choose,” Emma said.
“Oh, Vera wasn’t at the Breakers,” Michelle said. “She was here, in fact.”
Emma blinked. “Will Vera be here tonight?” she asked Vanni. She wasn’t sure she was so wild about the idea of socializing with Vera Shaw for the next week, but perhaps it’d give her an idea of how to break through the woman’s dislike of her? Vanni glanced at Dean, a vaguely annoyed expression breaking through his typically impassive one.
“Vera has left,” Dean said quickly, as if trying to fill the uncomfortable pause. “She had a great deal of work she needed to attend to back in Chicago.”
Another woman at the table, who Emma learned was named Estelle Fournier, listened to this exchange with a shrewd, narrow-eyed focus. Her husband, Simon, sat next to her. Estelle was a good deal younger than Simon, who appeared to be in his late fifties. Nevertheless, both husband and wife were stunning. As Vanni seated Emma and took his place next to her, Emma found herself wondering idly if the exotic Mediterranean coast somehow sprouted splendid-looking people to inhabit it.
Not only Vanni, but Niki, Michelle, and Dean were all very attentive to her during the dinner, something that went a long way to increasing her comfort level. Niki seemed very unconcerned about the upcoming race, and instead described to Emma and Vanni his adventure in catching an enormous sea bass that afternoon. Meanwhile, the woman named Estelle kept trying to engage Vanni in conversation in French, which seemed to annoy her husband, Simon. Knowing Emma didn’t speak the language, however, Vanni kept reverting to English, something that clearly annoyed the French beauty. At various times during the four-course meal, Emma noticed Estelle watching Vanni from across the table with a hungry look in her eye. She glanced at a nearby table and saw Mario Acarde stare at her—Emma—in much the same way Estelle looked at Vanni.
Apparently, not only did good looks thrive on the French Riviera, so did raging libidos, Emma thought dazedly, blinking and looking away from the amorous driver.
As the waiter cleared away the remains of their meal and couples began to dance out on the terrace, Georgia regally excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. A dark haired man with a mustache drew Vanni away to clarify some question that was a point of contention at another table. Estelle and Simon Fournier were twirling together on the dance floor, and Dean and his wife were off socializing at another table. Only Niki and she remained.
“Did I mention that you look amazingly beautiful tonight?” Niki asked her, smiling.
“Only once or a dozen times,” Emma replied, blushing despite his light, teasing tone.
“Something in France seems to be setting you alight,” Niki said, glancing pointedly across the room to where Vanni stood. “And I’m not the only one who’s noticed. You’ve caught the attention of almost every male in the room. Vanni is a fool to leave your side. Mario Acarde looks like he wants to eat you alive,” Niki said derisively under his breath, nodding subtly in the direction of the dark-haired man with the startling blue eyes. Mario was now talking to two women not twenty feet away. When Emma glanced in his direction, she saw him looking at her over the two women’s heads. He raised his highball glass as if in a private toast and took a healthy swallow of liquor.
“Drunken, horny bastard has been circling ever closer to you ever since he noticed Vanni was called away,” Niki muttered darkly under his breath.
“He’s one of your rivals, isn’t he? Marco told me a little about the race and the frontrunners,” she explained when he glanced at her in mild surprise.
“Acarde wishes.”
Emma chuckled. “I heard you won the time trials earlier. Congratulations. Are you nervous about the race on Sunday?”
“A little,” Niki admitted. “I’m usually not nervous before a race, but no matter how much I’ve practiced on the stock car, it’s still my second language, so to speak.”
“Do you think it’ll make a difference in the outcome of the race?”
“The Americans have the advantage as far as the car. But we,” he said lifting his highball glass and giving her a pointed, mischievous glance, “have the advantage of the road. No perfect little oval racetracks here—narrow roads, tight hairpin curves, and plunging shifts in elevat
ion down the mountainside.”
“Will it be dangerous?” Emma asked warily.
“Without a doubt,” Niki replied, as if she’d stated the obvious. She caught the gleam in his eyes and laughed. He smiled. “I realize you probably don’t know much about road races in the South of France, but they are traditionally the gladiator arena for drivers seeking their fame.” He noticed her alarmed look. “Don’t worry. It’s much better nowadays, and the local governments have assured we put together a safe race.” He shrugged. “Relatively safe, anyway.”
He flashed her a grin when she gave him a teasing “don’t mess with me” glance. “If anything, it’ll be a test of our basic driving instincts. We’ve only been allotted two early mornings of practice in addition to the time trials before raceday, given the constraints of the surrounding villages. It’ll be exciting, that much is certain. It started out as a lark between Vanni and me. But the level of competition has grown fierce in the past several months. We all craved the unique challenge, apparently. I’m glad,” Niki said, setting down his glass. “It was a gamble on Vanni’s part to attempt it, but he’s got a phenomenon on his hands. Excellent publicity for Montand Motorworks and Automobiles Montand. The race is going to become an annual, highly anticipated event, mark my words. Bit of a shame for Vanni, though,” Niki said, casting a hooded glance across the room to where Vanni stood at a table, flanked by two men in tuxes. “He actually hates high-profile events and being the center of attention, despite understanding the need for publicity owning the type of businesses he does.”
Emma recalled what he’d said that first time she’d officially met him about the “vampires” at press events. “Yes. Has he always been so reserved?”
Niki turned his highball glass distractedly. “No. He was a hotheaded teenager. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the center of attention or anything, but it was like he couldn’t stop it from happening . . . a little like expecting a raging inferno to be dim,” Niki said with a rueful sideways glance. Emma nodded in understanding.
“What happened to change him?” Emma asked quietly.
“Life. Death. Then . . . Meredith,” Niki said simply. He met Emma’s stare, and she could tell he was curious as to whether she knew who Meredith was. She didn’t, technically, but she made a guess.