Motivo nascosto

My fingers trembled throughout the journey to Umbria, from the jet down to the car; whereas Noah drove me, he kept watching the rearview mirror, saying nothing, but his eyes spelled everything.

I wanted to spill out my wail of embarrassment as I buried my face in my hands in the backseat of the car, but Noah's warning about women crying was enough motivation to keep the tears at bay.

I felt hot all over, remembering the roars of the press, more camera flashes, and above all, I couldn't get the expression on Nikolai's face out of my head.

It wasn't a blank stare; that eyes had shaken me up; it was like he had forgotten his script, and the real him— glared at me. It seemed to burn me down, my apologies frozen on my lips.

So even though Noah angered me, it felt like heaven being pulled away from Nikolai.

What have I done?

I pulled the pins from my hair, my two hands raking my hair backward as I struggled to catch my breath, "I need air," I whispered more to myself than Noah as I clutche