Page 117 of Downforce

Not looking at her with what I know is a tenderness that could only mean one thing, in my eyes. The teammate who hates me would have questions about seeing his beloved sister and son in a room alone with me, the air charged with an energy that says we’re more than rivals or just passing acquaintances.

“Wait,” I say, unable to stop myself. “Sunday, you’ll stay?”

Her lips press together, thinning into a line that indicates she’s spinning the idea over in her head.

“For how long?”

I’m surprised by the question, so I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Two nights … three.” I want more, but I have to return to Monaco for work after that.

She rubs her lips together, and the sight is enough to pull a small groan from me. The left side of her mouth pulls up into a smirk as if she’s well aware of her impact on me.

“Maybe,” she answers. “If you win.”

That’s the last thing she says before disappearing behind the door. It’s easy to discard the sound of her brother’s voice as he tells her he was looking for her.

I’m too busy doing something my father told me to never do: celebrating my win before it happens. Because there’s no way in hell that I’m losing now.

CHAPTER 32

Annalise

“I hope you slept well during your nap,” Max says, looking down at me as we stand outside of a beautiful stone building only a few kilometers from Central London.

He’s been unusually cryptic about where he planned on taking me for dinner tonight. Though I wanted to ask a million questions, particularly if the outfit I chose was appropriate, I refrained.

A smile spreads over my face as I remember the way my chest swelled in a strange pride after he sped over the finish line yesterday, ahead of the other nineteen drivers on the track.

One of which is your brother.

I mentally swat away the intrusive thought in place of the happiness I felt during Max’s win.

That was hours ago, though.

After the celebrations and the time it took to extricate myself from my family’s post-race gatherings, I met up with Max and we drove to his apartment in London. Truly, I could’ve stayed in his place over the next few days and been completely happy. His windows look out on the London Eye and the view is amazing.

Max insisted on me resting most of the day before our surprise date night.

Ironic, since he’s the one out of the two of us who’s done the most work this weekend. A sentiment that had his face frowning when I said it out loud.

We’ve both worked our arses off this weekend.

My heart swooned a little at the sincerity in his voice when he said that.

“Your bed feels like sleeping on a mattress made out of the softest bird feathers made to fit on a floating cloud.”

He grins.

“Seriously, if it were mine, I’d never leave. I don’t see how you gave it up to move to Monaco.”

Max’s brows drop at the same time his eyes darken almost imperceptibly while he looks me up and down. The look is so unexpected and so … scandalous, that a shiver runs down my spine.

“Not that your bed in Monaco isn’t anything to appreciate either.” I don’t know why I chose to add that. It is true. Max has exceptional taste when it comes to selecting furniture that’s not only functional and stylish but comfortable and meant for human use over aesthetics.

“Happy to hear you appreciate my taste.”

I roll my eyes. “I slept well. Are you sure you’re not too tired for⁠—”