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She throws a pen at me. It bounces off my chest before rolling back toward her.
I rub my chest. “Violence is never the answer.”
“Says the guy who recently broke a paparazzo’s camera worth two thousand euros.”
“Okay, violence is usually not the answer, but the reporter’s racist undertones set me off. Hey, from a PR perspective, at least I paid for a new one.”
“Throwing a thousand euros in his face doesn’t count.”
“Yet he bent over quicker than my last fuck to grab the bills.”
She scowls at me. “So, the club story?”
If she isn’t letting me off easy today, I can’t wait to see how the rest of the season will go. “Over break, I made a stupid decision when I drank and took an anti-anxiety med in the same night. Honest truth. So, it’s safe to say the night didn’t turn out like I wanted it to.”
Her eyes soften, losing the hardness she had moments before. “I didn’t know you needed medication to control your anxiety.”
I shrug. “Not many people do.”
“Have you tried to talk with a psychologist to help manage your anxiety symptoms? Or have you reconsidered your current medication?”
“No because that would involve talking, and I absolutely, under no circumstances, like talking about my feelings. Fuck that, so don’t bother trying. I have a US medical doctor on retainer who does the job just fine.” I tap my fingers against the table.
She stares at me. It’s unsettling how much I pay attention to the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Absolutely positively un-fucking-settling.
“You need to be honest with me. Is there anything else I need to be on the lookout for besides bouts of anxiety?”
Her words activate the ominous timer in my head. I push away the swell of anxiety building up inside of me, not
keen on freaking out in front of her. “Nope. Just my usual stint with a bottle of Jack. We’re mutually exclusive, so please don’t get any ideas.”
She gives me a half-assed eye roll and a shake of her head, diverting her attention back to her iPad. “Speaking of alcohol... I may not be part of the babysitter’s club, but I still have some rules.”
“My favorite part of rules is finding a way to break them.”
“Jax…”
The sound of my name leaving her lips sends a rush of energy through me. Her eyes burn, tempting me to push for more of a reaction from her.
Stop being a total wanker. “Okay, fine. Let me hear how you want to suck the fun out of this season.” A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as she nervously twirls her Apple pencil. At least I make her as uneasy as she makes me.
“First, you need to lay off the alcohol. I’m not telling you to stop completely, but practice self-control. I can’t pull you out of a random bathroom, let alone help you walk back to our hotel room.”
Why does my dick throb in my jeans at the thought of us sharing a hotel room? That’s rather...unusual. The idea of sharing a space with a woman in the past would’ve had me laughing to the point of tears. But with Elena, I find it enticing, the forbiddance of our situation like an aphrodisiac of the worst kind.
Gritting my teeth together, I nod. “Fair enough. I don’t want to drink like I did over break either.” Sometimes I can’t help it, and alcohol clouds my brain enough to offer me a temporary reprieve. But for my chance at the Championship, I’ll try to battle my problems in a different way during this season.
Try being the keyword.
“Second, you need to be honest with me. If something goes wrong, I want to know so I can help you. If I find out the next day in the papers, then it’s too late and I’ll be pissed.”
“Fine.” I nod my head at her second rule because a raging Elena sounds almost as fun as crashing my car during the first lap of a Prix.
“Next—”
“Fuck me. How many rules do you have typed up?” I cross my arms against my chest. Her eyes linger on my forearms before snapping back to my face, catching my devious smile.
She blushes as she tucks a loose wave of hair behind her ear. “Only a few more. If we both go back to the suite at night, that’s it. No leaving. I want to trust you, which means you can’t go sneaking off to do God knows what.”
