by Lauren Asher
“You’re a smart girl. If you mess around with Noah, and his performance isn’t what I expect…”
I keep silent. He wants a fight that I don’t need to entertain.
“I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t have another contract renewal. Not to mention you’ll never walk into a Bandini suite again. I don’t mess around. I play to win.”
I turn my head, taking in his cold stare before returning it with one of my own. His threats don’t scare me. No need to give him any semblance of control over me.
“Not sure what you think is happening. I’m sorry you’re worried about Noah’s performance. But what he does out there is all on him.” My voice sounds sickly sweet to my own ears.
He leaves with a smirk on his face, proving to be the asshole Noah described.
“We need to talk.” Santi lays himself against the headboard of my bed, occupying the space next to me. Yesterday was a rough day for him after placing fourth in the Prix. He made his rounds to appease fans, but the loss ate away at him and he closed himself off in the hotel suite for the rest of the night. Only room service could push him to leave the four walls of his bedroom.
“About?” my voice croaks. Paranoia riddles my brain, playing tricks on me as I worry if Noah’s dad told Santi about my secret relationship. I wouldn’t put anything past that vile man.
“We didn’t have a chance to talk in private about yesterday. I came off like an asshole and I’m sorry. A lot has been on my mind with Bandini, and I worry about you on top of everything else.” His brown eyes pierce mine.
“There isn’t anything else to discuss. I get how you want what’s best for me.” I squirm against the bedspread, unable to find a comfortable position.
“You’ve been kind of distant and I don’t know what’s going on. I thought you might want to go back home, but I overstepped.”
My chest tightens at his sincerity. “No. That’s not it.”
“You’d be honest if something was bothering you, right? This world is hard, but I appreciate having you here. It’s made the season much better.”
Please, stab me one more time in the heart.
“Of course. You’re my best friend.” A lump in my throat makes swallowing difficult.
“Now that our feelings shit is out of the way, Netflix came out with the new Stranger Things season. Let’s see it while I have free time.”
I end up watching the same season twice because guilt has a funny way of making me do just about anything for my brother.
30
Noah
I ended up placing runner-up in yesterday’s race. Jax put up one hell of a fight for the first-place spot, deserving his Prix win. The hard track and my placement keeps me pleased with my performance.
My dad, on the other hand, is not.
Regrettably, he invited me to dinner, a rare occasion since he never stays after a race, choosing to leave as soon as he can. The whole idea of dinner puts me on high alert. I can count on one hand the total amount of outings we’ve had together since I joined F1.
To put it short, my father deserves to be fucked right up the ass with a tub of Icy Hot Extra Strength for lube.
He comes off condescending to me and the waiters. My hands curl every time he speaks to someone with a chip the size of a twenty-pound kettlebell on his shoulder. It takes everything in me to not jump over the table and pull him by the shirt, spit in his face and rip him a new asshole to match his personality.
My chest tightens at the thought of acting similarly to him. I want to forget the countless girls, the cockiness, and my attitude. To protect myself, I gave up bits and pieces until I was void of feeling. Deception plays cruel jokes on people. Turns out while I busied myself with putting on a show, I was the person I lied most to. Eventually I believed all the deceits, the excuses I made for my shitty attitude and moodiness, becoming the asshole I was escaping.
My dad’s piss-poor attitude drives home all the points I’ve learned along the way this year. And the worst part? I actually feel bad for my dad. I pity him.
Nicholas Slade has no one, using money and power to get his way, never loving someone else. How can he when the man he adores happens to be his own reflection? To be honest, he doesn’t love me. Fuck, he doesn’t even like me, let alone share any semblance of the four-letter L word. He’s a selfish bastard who lives vicariously through me.
But to move forward in life, I have to face these issues from my past. My therapist will be pleased with how I sit silently, taking deep breaths, putting up with his shit.
I put out a lifeline for him. A test of sorts.
“Maya mentioned you chatted at the race together.” My voice stays relaxed despite a tingling sensation growing inside of me.
“Mm, yeah. She’s a pretty piece of ass. When are you going to drop the bomb on Santiago? It’s a smart plan, fucking with his head before the final Prix.” His grin leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. How does he sleep at night? Restless, with a soul as black as the darkness that surrounds him.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
Not officially. But he doesn’t need to know.
He tilts his head at me, offering a sinister smile. “If that’s what you call your fuck buddies now, all the power to you.”
My skin wants to crawl off my body and take up shop somewhere else. I attempt to give him a chance, waging an internal war.
“I’m probably going to marry her one day. I think she’s the one.” I say the words with confidence.
The idea is a little premature, sure. But I have a good feeling about her. Maya breathes new life into me, not wanting to piece me together but accepting all my jagged parts. Waking up next to her makes my mornings, not because of her phenomenal blowjobs, but for the special smile she gives me when I hit her snooze button five times. I love the way she lies in bed reading books in the middle of the day, unbothered and shooing me away when she hits a good part. She brushes off my gruff attitude with a smile and a kiss because I can be a moody asshole when I don’t place first—conditioned because of the shitty man sitting in front of me. Most of all, I like how she makes me want to be a better person. For her, for me, for the whole goddamn world.
My dad gives me a tight smile. “Better hire a lawyer for a prenup then. Women like her are only after one thing, and it’s not your shining personality and good looks.”
My façade drops. I run out of fucks to give him because he is too far gone to help. I made sure to prepare for this exact moment because I had anticipated the stunt he pulled with Maya. After all, I’ve watched him for years. I didn’t expect him to threaten Santi’s contract because I thought he would come after mine.
I let out a long exhale. He looks up at me, his dark eyes glaring at me.
“After spending time with people who care about me, I realized some things. People who love you spend time with you both on and off the track. They go to events and stay until the end to be around you because they want to. It’s not about whether you win or lose. I’m a World Champion and you treat me like a piece of shit on your shoe. Inconvenient and unwanted.”
He tries to say something, but I throw up my hand to shut him up. The upscale restaurant he chose allows us the privacy we need for this heart to black fucking heart.
“And you threaten my girlfriend? You actually fucking told her that her brother may lose a contract with Bandini? Like how sad and shitty is your life that you’d do that? I’m done trying with you. You’ve been a crappy dad my whole life, only caring when it benefits you. In the end, being in my life is more about your image than about being there for me.”
I only pay attention to his rapid blinking and lowering my heart rate.
“You can’t cut me out when I sponsor your team. I was serious about Santiago’s contract renewal. Try me.” He hisses like the fucking snake he is.
“Oh, Father. The thing is I have it all handled. Bandini no longer needs your generous donations. I attended almost every sponsor event, meeting, and gala held this year, sl
owly securing enough sponsorships to outbid yours. You’re done with my team. Feel free to back another group if you want. Not sure if they need a donor with a crappier attitude than the sewer you crawled out of, but hell, you are a legend after all.”
“This isn’t over. I’m still a sponsor this year, so I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”
I throw my cloth napkin on the table. “I don’t give a fuck. Do whatever you feel like, but stay the hell out of my way.”
No need to sit around and spend another minute with this man, my stomach threatening to rid itself of shame and a sixty-dollar steak.
He doesn’t bother with an apology.
I leave my past behind at the table of some fancy-ass restaurant. Fuck him to the farthest galaxy and back because the moon is just too damn close for comfort.
31
Maya
“Today we’re here with Santiago since he gets jealous of all the attention I give other racers.”
My brother and I sit at a sleek bar top in the Bandini motorhome. I line up two shot glasses next to a bottle of tequila while Santi smiles at the camera situated on an adjacent table.
“Santi admitted he’s down about not making it on the podium the other day. So we are going to do an exclusive episode of Tequila Talks because we still haven’t learned tequila doesn’t fix our problems. I hope this episode goes better than the last one. I’ll ask him a series of questions where he has to take a shot whenever he refuses to answer. I end the show after four because he weighs a lot and I can’t pick his butt up off the floor. Blame their strict workout regimen and muscle mass.”
My brother flexes his bicep at the camera.
“Warning: I didn’t come up with these questions. I want to clarify since fans want answers to things I do not need to know about my brother.” My lips purse at the horny bunch of fans out there—way more than I expect, all tapping away in my inbox about these guys.
I exaggerate a shudder at his mischievous grin and stick my tongue out at him.
“Favorite thing about your sister?” I bat my lashes at him.
“Hmm, who came up with that question?” His brow lifts.
I shrug and fail to answer.
“I love her passion, fearlessness, and carefree personality.”
Aw, how sweet.
“Who knew you had such kind thoughts about me? Okay, next question. The worst part about F1?”
“Hands down the fact that I don’t sleep in my bed for months at a time. I miss coming home.”
Ah, the not-so glam side of traveling the world.
“What you really miss is your gym and bubble baths.” I smile at my brother.
“Bath bombs don’t feel the same in a hotel bathtub.” He pouts.
I suppress a laugh. “Best part of having a teammate?”
“The shared points you get together. Plus, personal tips and recommendations.” Santi genuinely smiles at the camera.
“Ugh. I hate this one. Your favorite sex position?”
He winks at the camera and knocks back a shot. Good answer.
“Glad that’s past us. Next, any special girl in your life?”
He flips his empty shot glass. “Not since high school.”
“See girls, boys are sensitive just like us. They get their heart broken once and it’s game over.”
He chuckles to himself. “See guys, girls are annoying as ever, no matter the age.”
Oh, burn. “Moving on—”
“What’s going on here?” Noah’s voice makes my stomach flip.
“Tequila Talks. Want to join?” My brother has loose lips after one shot.
Sure enough, Noah grabs the extra glass and fills it up. He sits in the seat next to me, ready for questions.
My eyes dart between Noah and Santi. “Wait, he can’t join. I don’t have questions for him.”
“Ask him the same ones.” Santi offers me a quizzical look.
“Lovely.” My jaw hurts from my teeth grinding.
Noah dares to look smug. All right, he asked for it.
“If you could go on a date with any celebrity, who would it be?” I give the camera a warm smile before turning toward the guys.
Noah coughs. I did try to stop him.
“Definity Taylor Hill. That girl is fine,” my brother blurts out.
My hands fidget in front of me, anticipating whatever response Noah comes up with.
He mutters a curse before speaking. “Hmm. Adriana Lima?”
If glares could kill, this man would be dead on the spot.
“If anyone from the VS fashion show is listening in, please invite these guys. It’ll make their year.”
My brother chuckles while Noah keeps quiet, pleasing me.
“Favorite F1 team besides Bandini?”
My brother strokes his chin as Noah takes it away.
“McCoy for me. I like the guys and their work ethic. They’re great competition, always pushing us to do our best.”
“I like Kulikov. That’s a given from our previous history. There’s no bad blood since I left. And the guys hustle.”
I move on. “Name five things you look for in your dream girl.”
“Attractive, smart, into F1…” Santi pauses. “Oh, family-oriented, and nice.”
Noah takes a few seconds to come up with an answer, his intense gaze warming me up inside. I become fascinated with picking at the label of the tequila bottle.
“Beautiful, both inside and out. Funny enough to get my asshole sense of humor. Someone who wants to have a family and likes me for me, rather than for fame. And a girl who will travel around the world with me because this job is constantly on the go.”
I think my ovaries explode but it’s hard to tell. Moving on.
“Best sex story?” Did the camera catch my cringing? I’ll have to re-watch later while I edit.
My brother takes a breath before talking. “Well, there was this one time—”
My elbow hits him in the ribs. Hell. No.
Noah winks at me before knocking back his shot like the Champ he is. Oh, what a simple wink can do to me. My lips tip up in a telling smile.
The game keeps going with questions taking a turn away from sex and love interests. Bless.
For the first time since Santi started at Bandini, he and Noah get along. It gives me hope that they can be friends after Noah and I come out about our relationship.
But you know what they say about the best-laid plans…
32
Noah
Maya tells her brother she wants to sleep over at Sophie’s suite tonight. But in reality, we planned an all-nighter together after her Tequila Talks vlog, lying naked in the hotel bed.
“You know I don’t want to get with Adriana Lima, right? I needed to say a name.”
She sighs. Not exactly the reaction I want.
“Yeah. But you’ve been with models like her. That’s a lot to compete with when I’m nothing like those girls.”
My bad decisions rear their ugly heads again. Except this time, I want to banish them forever, no longer proud of my shitty past. Pack them away in a cardboard box along with my bad memories.
“Have you googled me?” I roll on top of her. My hand softly grips her chin, stroking her soft skin.
“Maybe. I was curious.” Her eyes look up toward the ceiling.
“Google will be the death of me. Don’t look at that shit. It’s not worth your time or energy when people spin stories to make money.” My lips softly peck at her cheeks between words. “You’re. The. Most. Lovely. Woman. To. Me.”
She giggles at all of the kisses I plant on her face. My lips find hers, my tongue caressing her closed lips, wanting access. I fucking hate when she closes herself off. I slide my hands down her body, wanting her to respond to me. My hands stroke the entrance of her pussy and tease her into giving me what I want.
She moans when I dip a finger inside of her, my dick stirring at her arousal. I deepen the kiss, wanting to show her how I crave and want her. Desire and desper
ation swirl inside of me. My knee pushes her legs apart and I roll my hard cock against her center. Her groan makes my cock pulse against her smooth skin, her arousal coating my dick as I grind into her. Lust makes my head cloudy, but I need to prove my point.
“I really like you, Maya. I want to spend every day with you, both in here and out there once you let me. Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”
The way she smiles at me makes my heart skip and my dick ache. She pulls me down for another kiss that speaks volumes because who the hell needs words when their body does the talking?
I struggle to stay awake at the sponsor event, another gala where lots of old men open their big wallets. A dime a dozen around here. With age comes less willingness to attend these events, wanting to ditch the moment I arrive because I have no interest in kissing ass. Not to mention how I can’t even have my girlfriend by my side since she hangs out with Santi.
So I do what any horny male would do. I text Maya to meet me in the empty ballroom next door.
She shows up ten minutes later, the darkness of the ballroom cloaking her as she stands near the double-door entrance. Low lighting makes her shape undistinguishable.
“Do you have a public fetish I should be worried about? This is becoming a common occurrence for us.” Her voice sounds low and husky.
“Why don’t you come over and find out.”
She strolls toward me, moving around piles of stacked chairs and empty tables spread throughout the room. My lungs welcome the scent of her shampoo mixed with a light floral perfume. I could get high off the smell of her alone.
She tugs on my bow tie, loosening it.
“I love seeing you in a tux. It’s one of my favorite things.”
I can wear a tux every day if it makes her happy. “I love seeing you naked. But this will have to do for now.” I hiss when I tug up the hem of her lace dress. “You’re not wearing underwear? This whole time?”
She replies with a breathy laugh.