Massimo had been such a jerk. She couldn’t believe he’d coldly insinuated she’d want to milk him for his money. As if she’d want to take advantage of ababyin that way? Was the child not real to him? Or was it just a thing—another possession like his many cars and companies? That he’d obviously had other lovers since her, and thought she had, too, also rankled. Even though he was well within his right to, the thought infuriated her. He’d been asheartlessas he’d been territorial. But he’d come alive when she’d snapped back at him. Of course he liked a challenge. He was in the top one percent, the absolute elite in the world. With his outsize ego and outsize drive, he lived a different life from normal—especially with the enormous wealth he’d inherited, then compounded. He could buy anything he wanted, but most of the time he didn’t have to because sycophants and sponsors and celebrities wanted his grace and favour and attention. Therefore,nowasn’t a word he heard. He hadn’t liked it, but he was going to have to get used to hearing it from her. His attempt to control everything angered her most. He’d unleashed his inner Medieval overlord. But Lily would never let someone dictate what happened inherlife—certainly not something as important as this.
His outrageousproposalhad been a spur-of-the-moment reaction, thinking it was thedone thing. She wouldn’t let him move so damned fast that she didn’t have the chance to catch her breath or use her brain. He would change his mind once he knew the truth,especiallyif respectability really mattered to him. Which meant she needed to tell him the second she saw him again. It would be more shameful to marry her than to pay her off. The man hung out with princesses, so once he knew the extent of her unsuitability, he would back away and be grateful for his lucky escape. It wasn’t as if his proposal had been underpinned by any actual interest. He’d hardly rushed to take up her offer to seduce her any time he liked. The tragic thing was she’d wanted him to. She couldn’t believe one wilful part deep inside her was disappointed that he’d left her alone last night. Here she was, facing a life-changing, shocking situation and all she really cared about was that he’d not kissed her again. She was pathetic. Crazy. Both.
At some point she would need to stop and absorb the fact that in only a few months she would become a mother with a baby to nurture and protect. Her mother hadn’t mothered her. Neither of her parents had loved her in the unconditional way they were supposed to. Lily had focused on building a life for herself, all but alone for the past five years. Honestly, it had been going pretty well. But whether the life she’d built would be good enough to bring a baby into—whetherLilyherself would be good enough—that she didn’t know. The thought of failingterrifiedher.
She would try, she would bebetterthan they’d been, but she had to retain her independence from Massimo. Marrying him—trying to create a family unit—wasn’t going to happen. She’d believed in her family only to find the foundation had been brittle—shattering beneath pressure. She would never create afalsefoundation when it, too, could be pulled from her at any moment. Shewasalone in this.
Heartsore, she hunched down by the cabinets, checking over the tools, keeping her mind too busy to worry more. Thursdays in race week were a hive of activity. The pit crew practised tyre changes over and over. Engineers studied endless data streams from the simulations. There were musicians practising, vendors setting up food stalls with huge amounts of supplies, media people everywhere and VIP fans with passes and phones.
She’d barely gotten into it when Shane walked over. ‘We’ve been asked to send a client out on a few reconnaissance laps.’
Lily nodded. Sponsor and celebrity encounters were super important. Hearnshawe Racing wasn’t just about winning; they had luxury cars to sell. Endorsements and experiences maintained their brand name and recognition. ‘You want me to take him around the circuit?’
‘We have permission from the stewards. I just need a driver.’
Lily chuckled lightly. ‘But it’s not a hot lap?’
‘You wish.’ Shane laughed. ‘No. All you have to do is point out the features of the track and the car. I figured you might want to get out of the heat for ten minutes. Just watch for the incoming rain.’
Cruising around in an air-conditioned Hearnshawe coupe definitely sounded like a nice way to spend some time, and she already knew any rain wasn’t going to lower the temps. It would just slow them down—which meant even longer in the car and that was a good thing. P1 Global drivers were often born into the scene—Emiliano was a prime example. Aside from his aunt marrying into the Hearnshawe dynasty, he was a direct descendent of a long line of Italian racing drivers. Even Conrad was second generation. But Lily was also born into a racing family. She knew how to get around the streets quickly. Not that there would be the chance to drift and truly burn rubber here. But as she greeted the client and then strapped into the supremely luxurious vehicle, she felt that promise of freedom that only high speeds offered.
Massimo arrived at the track in a high temper and full of regrets. The sudden downpour of torrential rain soured his mood more. He should’ve gone with animal instinct and stayed with her last night. Instead, he’d tried to respect her boundaries. Tried not to act on impulse any more than he already had with her. He still couldn’t believe he’d effectively proposed, but he’d been too provoked to argue with her to walk it back. Even though he didn’t want to marry, itwould bethe right thing to do. He’d gone over it and over it the entire night—had precisely zero sleep—and still circled back to the same damned conclusion.
When he’d returned to her hotel early this morning, she’d already left. Now the rain drummed loudly on the roof, impeding his already compromised ability to cope. If there was one thing he loathed, it was rain on race day. Hopefully, it would pass before the driving sessions began or it would be another layer of unbearable stress on an already awful weekend.
He glared around as he entered the garage. ‘Where’s Lily?’
‘Lily the mechanic?’ Shane glanced up.
Massimo’s glare hardened. How many Lilys were there?
Shane cleared his throat. ‘She’s on the track.’
‘What?’ He froze.
‘In the display coupe.’ Shane moved closer. ‘Doing a track tour with a client.’
Massimo swivelled and registered the slick street, the lowered visibility. It was basically a monsoon out there.
‘Are you telling me Lily Jones is driving on the circuit?’ Massimo’s voice rose to thunderous volumes. ‘In one of our sports cars?’
‘It’s not a hot lap. She’s not going all that fast.’
Oh he was wrong. Hearnshawe’s top roadster had the highest specs allowed for legal road use. It was fartoofast. Why the hell had she agreed to get into it in her condition? After her ill health yesterday? In thisweather?
‘Bring her in now,’ he snapped.
‘But—’
‘She ends the lap. Now. Slowly.’
‘There’s no headset.’
‘Then get the fucking red flag!’ Massimo stormed into the pit lane, leaving the man gaping.
He stood out in the lane, watching for the car to turn in, horrified at the rain bucketing down. It took too many seconds for her to appear. She braked, hitting the marks perfectly, coming to a stop right beside him despite the reduced visibility. Not that he could appreciate that. The hosing rain drowned his capacity to think. He could only act. Temper flaring, he jerked the driver’s door open as she spoke to the passenger.
‘I hope you enj—’
