Page 31 of Handle Me

I managed to keep my surprise to a minimum. I’d expected her to fight me on it a little more. But maybe that was just it. Maybe she didn’t want to fight it. Maybe she wanted to give in.

Maybe she wanted to submit.

My balls ached at the thought of the bossy Lola Bishop, with her slender wrists tied and her perfect ass in the air, waiting for me to decide her fate.

“But first, you have to answer some questions,” she added, interrupting my fantasy.

“Shoot.” I lounged back in my seat and waited.

“Why don’t you want to be a royal?” she asked.

That wasn’t what I’d expected her to ask. I stared at her, trying to formulate an answer that didn’t contain more curse words than not.

“Should I start with something easier?” she asked as if reading my mind. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Pink,” I said.

“Pink?” she repeated.

“In my experience, my favorite thing in the world is pink. Well,” I said, thinking about it, “sometimes brown or reddish, even purple.”

Lola clenched her jaw and then let out a heavy groan. “Is sex all you think about?”

I answered without thinking. “Only around you, boss.”

“This was a bad idea.” She reached for her napkin and tossed it on the table.

“Wait!” I said before she gave up and I lost out on any chance of getting dessert. “I’m sorry. I will stick to nonsexual answers as long as you stick to nonsexual questions.”

“How is…” She closed her eyes, but she did grab her napkin and settle back into her seat. “What’s your favorite food? Wait, forget I asked that.”

She was learning. I might as well give her the answer to what she really wanted to know. “I grew up here,” I told her. “I wanted to be a driver as long as I can remember—and not just a driver. I wanted to be the best. But when I found out the truth, I was pissed. Because I knew that if anyone found out, that was all that would matter—being Albert’s son. And when the story leaked? That’s exactly what happened.”

Lola remained quiet as I spoke, but then she nodded. “That’s why you’re mad I’m here. You feel like they’re trying to force you to be someone you don’t want to be.”

“I guess,” I said noncommittally. She was right, but for some reason, I couldn’t quite admit that to her.

“So, what would your life be like if none of this had happened?” she asked.

Before I could answer, the waiter appeared with a silver tray of oysters on the half-shell. Lola picked one up as soon as he was gone and downed it. She dropped the shell back on the ice and waited for me to answer.

“Well, I was supposed to get this big break when they asked me to do the Monarch Games,” I said, picking up an oyster. “It was going to put me on the map as far as Formula 1 was concerned.”

“And you weren’t, before?” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin before quickly adding, “I don’t really know much about racing.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said with a light laugh.

“What does that mean?” Her cheeks went red.

“You don’t drive,” I pointed out. “It’s pretty rare to meet someone who cares about racing but doesn’t get behind the wheel.”

“Is that a prerequisite?” she asked. “What if I just wanted to watch you race?”

“Tough shit,” I grumbled. “That won’t be happening.”

Lola tilted her head, looking like a curious kitten. “What does that mean?”

There was no point in keeping it from her. She’d figure out something was wrong when I didn’t go to the track. “I’m taking a bit of a break. Wilkes is worried about my times.”