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“Oh really?”
His hand flexes as if he wants to touch me again before he places it in his pocket. “I’ve always been better at showing, not telling.”
“Fitting since you have the emotional range of a five-year-old. They follow the same concept.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I can assure you in all the years I’ve been with women, I can safely say they haven’t complained.”
“Probably because you’re the one leaving before they have a chance to speak.”
“Ahh, learning my tricks already?”
“Tricks insinuates they’re sneaky. You’re forgetting it’s my job to learn everything about you.”
His eyes darken. “Even the bad parts?”
“Especially those. It makes this job more interesting.” I push my palms together and wiggle my fingers, giving off my best evil genius impression.
“Not the fact that I’m devilishly handsome and have a killer accent?”
I roll my eyes. “Nope. I would label that a con.”
Lies. His accent and looks are very much a pro in this situation.
“Because you find it hard to resist me?”
“Ehh. I’m not into guys who act like you do.”
“And that is?”
“Like they’re above me.”
His mask of disinterest slips for a moment. “That’s not how I feel.”
“That’s how you come across, which is all the same. It’s okay. I’m a big girl and can handle men like you. You’re not the first client who has treated me this way.” I walk toward the main door to exit the suite. My silk champagne dress clings to my body, making it difficult to make long strides.
Jax catches up to me easily. He grabs onto my elbow softly, turning me toward him. “I can’t speak for other men, but I don’t think I’m better than you. Quite the opposite, actually. You’re too—” he bites down on his lip as he scans my body once more before lingering on my face “—good for someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” I stare at his hand, trying to understand why my skin pebbles at his touch.
His thumb lazily brushes across my skin. “I’m better suited to destroy someone’s happiness than be their reason for it.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Are you always going to speak in statements shrouded in confusion?”
“I’m like Jim Carrey’s Riddler.”
“Out of all the movies you could reference, you choose George Clooney’s Batman franchise? I’m losing all my respect for you.”
“The fact that you have a little respect for me at all is concerning.”
“Don’t worry, it’s dwindling by the second.”
He shakes his head, fighting his smile before settling for a scowl. “Let’s go. Time to get this shit show over with.”
“Why do you hate sponsor events?”
“I hate everything that isn’t racing my car. I’d much rather drop off the face of the planet than deal with a new crowd of people every week who ask me too many questions.”
We both walk into the hall and toward the elevator. “I think you chose the wrong career path then. Racing and celebrity status are synonymous with one another.”
