He’s wearing a black dress shirt with a perfectly tailored black suit, no tie. His eyes are bright, his smile wide. He’s enigmatic, his energy palpable, clearly in team principal mode, charming the people he’s speaking to.
I remain fixated on him as my brain flounders to string even half a sentence together. It’s silly. Risky, too. If Luca turned around and followed my line of sight, it would add fuel to his unwarranted claims.
I should look away.
Yet I can’t make myself do it.
I’m so ensnared by the man across the room. I’m a mindless moth desperate for the heat of his scorching flame.
What is wrong with me?
Shaking my head, I suck in a breath, galvanizing myself, determined to finish this conversation with my asshole ex.
But then Alaric looks up.
He doesn’t look around. He doesn’t even do a double take. His attention goes straight to me.
An electric energy hums to life between us, our palpable connection buzzing.
His focus is so intense, so hot and distracting and acute, that it aches. My reaction is sharp. Carnal. Jarring enough to finally pull me out of my revery, because if I hold his gaze for a single second longer, I’ll break.
Squaring my shoulders, I scowl at Luca. “That’s a wild and untruthful claim. You don’t know shit about me,” I finally say. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” I add, trying to affect him even a fraction of the way he’s hurt me tonight.
He smirks, the smarmy bastard, then raises both eyebrows in challenge. “Probably the same thing you see in my dad. A free ride, a good head of hair, and a fat bank account.”
I hear it before I can register the sight.
Mia throws out a hand, and it connects with Luca’s cheek in an audible slap.
He recoils, clinging to the bar as if he needs the support.
Mia shrieks, eyes wide with panic. “Oh shit. Oh shit. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Come on,” I insist, finally freed from my mental lockup. “We have to get out of here.”
Grasping her arm, I lead her toward the exit as quickly as our heels will allow.
Within seconds we’re flanked by Kenji and Ren.
“Did you just bitch slap Luca Steele?” Ren asks, awe painted across their expression.
Mia lifts a hand to her chest and looks from me to Ren, her eyes growing impossibly wider. “Yes,” she squeaks out. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never slapped anyone before. I shouldn’t have done that. He’s a fellow driver. A much more experienced driver. Oh my god… Do you think I hurt him?” She whips her head around, frantically scanning the crowd. “I’msoscrewed.”
“Breathe.” Kenji grips Mia’s shoulders. “We’ll get it sorted.”
We’re nearly to the doors that lead out of the ballroom when a peppy woman with an official Formula 1 lanyard and sleek black headset intercepts us.
“Ah. Three for the price of one. Fantastic.” She offers a cheeky grin. “I’m rounding up drivers for a group photo. To the main stage, please.”
Ren groans.
“Oh my god. We can’t leave.” Mia’s eyes dart between the three of us. “And now I have to stand next to him for pictures? Ev, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
With his arm still wrapped around Mia, Kenji gives me a knowing look. He and I silently acknowledge that, no, Mia can’t leave. More than that, though, she can’t afford to melt down at her first major sponsor event as a Formula 1 driver.
Which means I’ll be leaving alone. It’s the right move for everyone. The last thing I want is for her to jeopardize her job for me.
I give Kenji a quick nod, then survey Ren to ensure we’re all on the same page.
