by Zoe Adams
Fast Love
The Billionaires Club Book 3
By Zoe Adams
Fast Love
Copyright © 2015 by Zoe Adams.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: February 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-478-3
ISBN-10: 1-68058-478-2
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the special
love of my life, Mike F.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 1
A top of the line race car sat begging for its next speedy move. The shiny grille made a needy smile. The car usually led in kicking up dust on the racetrack, but now sat impatiently under fluorescent shop lights.
The car impatiently waited to strut its stuff. Everything had been planned to be aerodynamic. Thin layers of fiberglass or ultra-strong carbon fiber promoted the car toward super speeds.
The car was painted gold. Interior lights showed deep luster, but only the full light of day showed the true depth of glittery gold.
Two men bragged about the trophy winning car. They polished it in big circular sweeps. Not one speck of dust would be on the sponsors and logos. The men talked about the merits coming from such placements.
The car’s exterior was just an extension of what couldn’t be seen. Advertisers paid dearly to display their brilliance. The top rated companies landed their special positions and placements by the amount of money they supplied the race team.
Car sponsors carried the financial burden. But the driver was the face of the team, along with the responsibility of being a score buster, and all of it sat on Clarence Bernstein’s shoulders.
His position had been tested on national racing grounds every Sunday for years. This year he was speeding through the racing season like a champ.
The race car had been readied for the trailer. Soon it would be dropped off at the racetrack. One man stood on each side and gently pushed the weight conscious vehicle up the ramps. They tightened the car down and circled it a few more times for good luck. The golden car would be leaving soon, but the men knew better than to rush things tonight. They had time to ensure their dominating racing careers. They agreed maximum input was critical for maximum output. So they cleaned up the shop and prepared for a victorious return.
Along the back wall a young girl teetered to darker shadows. She listened and learned the jumble of lingo associated with the target of her father’s affection. The girl knew she could walk into that circle of light at any moment and be welcome, but she enjoyed listening to the talk of score breaking numbers and didn’t want their attention diverted.
She had grown up watching her father race cars. His heavy attachment to the racing industry had prepped the girl to be a tomboy.
The action-packed life led her father to race in a different town every weekend. Most of the time his family would go with him. Their favorite race was tomorrow because it was in their hometown. They all got a chance to stay in their own home tonight, and go to the race tomorrow.
A life of following the traveling motor cages had created a two-sided family. Father, son, and daughter were all deeply devoted to anything with some sort of mechanical horsepower. These things were okay for the men in the family.
But not okay for the daughter. Indiana was a girl. Her mother did all she could to raise her to be a young lady and not a speed-seeking enthusiast. Indiana couldn’t fully appreciate her mother’s attractions. All of the beauty and flowers of her mother’s world were a bright distraction, but couldn’t hold a candle to her father’s work. Indiana could appreciate his mind, simply because it was appreciated more in the eyes of the world. Indiana couldn’t help but be drawn to the inner workings of world class success.
Indiana Bernstein was expected to pursue the more delicate aspirations. Instead, she found studying car magazines much more inspiring than the usual feminine perusals.
Right now, Indiana should be doing piano lessons inside the house. She groaned inwardly when the screen door slammed across the distance. Fearing dark discovery, she walked into the circle of light. Three people were a crowd, and attention diverted to the innocent intrusion.
“There’s the birthday girl. Is dinner ready yet?” Indiana’s father questioned her, and she wished the subject hadn’t changed.
“Not for another hour,” Indiana answered, short and clipped. She had learned a long time ago to make each answer quick and to the point.
“Ah, I’m starving. What’s your mother doing in there? Never mind.” Clarence turned from his daughter to his friend. “Richard, you have to stay for dinner. You don’t mind, do you, Indy?”
Indiana smiled at her dad and felt very grownup. No one ever asked for her opinion or approval. No other birthday present could have pleased her more. Having any dinner at home was unusual, but a birthday with all the family members under the same roof gave a wonderful reason to celebrate. Quicker than a blink, the other man drew her attention.
Today Indiana turned fifteen, but she wasn’t too young to know everything about her father’s racing partner. Richard Sand had green eyes and jet black hair. He was tall, slim, and hard from building his reputation from nothing. There were few women above him. He showed up everywhere with attractive dates. Different, beautiful models accompanied him on quick flings all the time. Showing up single, and without a date, was a rarity at the Bernstein household.
The guest gave his million-dollar smile and patted his stomach. “Dinner sounds great, Clarence. Thanks. You’re always looking out for your bachelor friend. I’ve got to admit, food’s been the last thing on my mind. You have to see my latest toy. It’s a 1967 Fairlane. I just got her back from the shop last night.”
The father and daughter duo were mirror images of brown hair, brown eyes, and eager smiles.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Clarence asked, and led the way out to the curving concrete driveway.
Low whistles and heightened murmurs of approval were elicited from the metalheads. The sight of such an old car in nearly pristine condition had them in a tizzy.
“Richard, you lucky son of a gun, you got the car I’ve always wanted.” Clarence congratulated his younger friend. “Does she look as good under the hood?”
“Well, o
f course—she’s all original. The vehicle identification numbers match with the motor, and all three hundred ninety horsepower are begging for a drive.”
“Now you are speaking my language.” Clarence jumped into the passenger seat.
Richard carefully set the heavy hood back down over the front end. He held open his driver side door and stepped back. Indiana had been standing as near as possible to the information super highway.
She blushed when he spoke to her. “Are you coming with us?”
Indiana jumped into the offered back seat, and sat in the middle.
Richard drove with the pedal to the metal. Indiana helplessly felt the forces of nature push her into the seat. It caused a huge smile to bloom across her face. The smell of burning rubber, heavy exhaust, and thick upholstery were her first glimpse at the glory of speed. She was hooked, and knew all her future roads would lead to controlling a steering wheel with two hugging hands.
The neighborhood of mansions knew the famous driver who lived, worked, and raced in their midst. The exercise ended after a few laps around the block. The classic car returned to the winding driveway of the well-lit and oversized home.
The tardy group made a loud addition when they excitedly entered the house. Indiana snuck upstairs to her room. She knew better than to show up with the men in any amount of grime. Her mother expected a prim young woman. The men could be dirty and leave smudges on the china and tablecloth, but Indiana had to be clean and pretty.
She rolled her eyes and stomped her foot. It wasn’t fair, but she knew better than to disagree. Indiana removed all traces of the garage, or of being a teenager. She put on the frilly party dress her mother insisted she wear.
Turning back and forth in front of the full-length mirror, she watched the crepe dress sweep widely to knobby knees. Indiana rolled her eyes at the obvious little girl dress. She remembered a Mickey Mouse cartoon, and could swear Minnie’s dress had the same wide waist band, collar, and bow in the back. Indiana did what she had to do. In this case, making her mom happy was paramount. It would ease the night and make everyone happy.
Indiana couldn’t wait to have big girl parties and decorate her own things. Those things would unfortunately wait. She ran downstairs to where her family sat ready and waiting.
“Imagine that. My daughter’s late to her very own birthday dinner. How am I ever going to make a lady out of you?” Her mother’s frustration found its seemingly favorite target.
The attention of the dinner table turned toward the girl hiding behind large glasses, long hair, and long bangs.
“Ha, she’s right on time, and we all know timing is everything.” Clarence looked up from the steaming turkey he carved into slices.
Indiana smiled appreciatively at her father and sat obsequiously beside her mother.
Dinner became a healthy celebration of life. It eased itself toward dessert. Talk rolled around subjects like fast cars, slow cooked meals, and timeless family memories. With birthday cake and presents on the agenda, the next part could begin.
Her father gave her a present first. The big garment box held a new pair of sweat, wind, and dirt proof motocross clothes. On top sat a pink pair of matching gloves. On this one point, mother and father both agreed to dress Indiana like a girl. She would have preferred blue or black clothes, but she couldn’t do anything about her parents’ expectations of her.
Indiana looked up and gave her dad a big smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“There,” Clarence looked around, relieved, “I’ve been waiting so long to give you these. It’s so hard to wait to give someone presents. Once I find something I want to give someone, I just want to give it to them right away.”
Clarence looked to his wife for approval, and she inclined her head with a slight smile. He looked at his son. Tommy hid his eyes and smartphone under the table. Clarence finally found the approval he needed when he looked at his friend and racing partner.
“Yep. I’m the same way, Clarence. I love giving people presents. But I’m sorry, Indiana, I came completely unprepared for a party.” Richard’s green eyes blinked brightly.
“That’s okay,” Indiana mumbled, and occupied herself with her father’s gift.
The clothes were specially made to order and matched her new dirt bike. At Christmastime, her father had given her a motorbike specially trademarked and painted with his yellow-gold flake paint. He added her name in pink, and it was scrawled across the back of the leather jacket as well. Miss Indy Bern-Out-Stein. He had catchphrased the family name into a logo years ago. He was Clarence Bernstein, better known as King Bern-Out-Stein.
Indiana had no choice but to smile proudly at her thoughtful and excited dad. “Thanks, Dad. I love it. Too bad I can’t try them out until tomorrow.”
She reluctantly set the gift aside and realized it would be even a day later because tomorrow was race day. Indiana would be busy watching, helping, and cheering for her dad to win his race.
The next box she opened came from her brother. It contained the new TV series she wanted to see and a few other ones as well.
“Thanks, Tommy. Maybe we can watch part of Peacemakers together.” She looked at her brother hopefully.
“Yeah, maybe.” He agreed for the sake of it.
Indiana knew they wouldn’t be watching it together. Just like she knew he sat halfway at the dining table, and halfway in a gamer’s world.
Next was a big garment box. With the removal of its lid, the presence of Indiana’s mother made itself known. A checkered and plaid school uniform, an ugly sweater, and a button down shirt with a curvy collar smiled up at her. Indiana knew what the colors signified and her heart stopped.
“You are sending me off to school?” She looked up in confused dismay.
“Of course, my dear. The racetracks are hardly a fitting place for a young lady.” Mrs. Bernstein’s arguments had already been won, and the civilized lady kept the air light.
Indiana looked to her father for help. She knew from past experience right now would be the only time to convince her mother otherwise. If changing the opinion of an iron fortress was possible at all, it would only happen in the presence of father and guests.
“But we had an agreement—as long as my grades are good I can continue to home school and travel with the race team. I am already doing eleventh grade schoolwork and you want to put me in private school? Just give me one more year and I can have my diploma, please. Then I’ll be done with school and can do other stuff.”
An uncomfortable titter came from her mother as she balked at her daughter’s suggestion. “I don’t have a problem with you getting through school. I have a problem with you thinking you belong in a man’s world. You are too old to hang out in garages and speedways.”
Indiana understood the implications and looked to her father for help. “But I like it.”
“Your mother is right, Indy.” Clarence looked down, and fisted one palm into the other over his plate. “We travel too much and it’s time to put you into a private school specializing in young ladies. As soon as you have your college degree you can do whatever you want.”
Even though Indiana’s mother made nearly every decision for the family, her father had the last say. The discussion was closed. Indiana looked at the hideous skirt with huge box pleats and wished it away. What had been a great night had dwindled her bright future into oblivion. Indiana would be sent to a private school. She considered when the next family dinner would be.
She hid behind the large glasses. They hid her emotional eyes, but her chin quivered. She ran from the room.
Indiana slammed the front door behind her. She knew the darkest part of the yard and paced it in the cooling evening. Very tall trees half-sheltered the long shadows of the stomping tigress. She huffed her thoughts into the night.
After a while the house opened again. Richard was leaving. His footsteps stopped on the sidewalk. Under the starlight she saw him put a wide, brown cigar to his lips. The flicker of fire put eyelash shadows acros
s his forehead.
Indiana froze in her lamenting. Richard walked straight off the concrete sidewalk and toward the breathing statue.
“Indy, is that you?” he asked.
He was the only one besides her father who called her by the short name, and she much preferred it.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?” he asked between puffs of smoke.
“I can’t wait until I can do whatever I want.” Indiana’s thoughts rushed out.
“Yes, I remember being your age. I knew exactly what I wanted.” Richard smiled around his cigar.
“What was that?” she asked innocently and looked up at his strong jaw.
“All I wanted was to be a race car driver.” Richard smiled and the best dentist couldn’t create a better placement of teeth.
“I can’t wait to drive a car.” Indiana sighed.
He puffed out a ring of smoke. “I bet you can’t. Love of speed is in your blood. You should’ve seen the excitement on your face today when we were driving in the Fairlane.”
Indiana couldn’t believe he noticed her. It made her dizzy just to be next to this symbol of manliness. Or maybe it was the sweet aroma of the cigar. There could be any reason for her dizziness.
Luckily he stopped talking for a moment. He puffed and twisted a cigar. Smoke twirled pleasantly in the night breeze.
“Your smile was all I could see in my rearview mirror today. I wish I always had a smiling face ahead of me like that. But it’s your birthday and your night of wishes, isn’t it? All right, well, here is your birthday present from me. I’ll let you drive my car around the block.”
He pulled keys from his pocket and held them up. Nothing ever shone so brightly for Indiana. They were worn out but still glimmered in the moonlight.
She couldn’t move or place trust in the promise. Richard put the keys in her hand. He backed away with worlds of charm.
“Come on,” he said.