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He seems caught off guard by my harsh tone, but I don’t care. “You were with him,” he snarls with disgust, and it takes everything I have not to get in his face. To tell him I was deep inside Axel only moments ago. That it was the greatest feeling I’ve had in a long, long time. Since the last time I was inside Axel, or he was inside me.
And though I can barely stand Axel, it’s real with him. It’s the only damn time I can actually be myself. Fucking Axel. I feel him staring at me from across the room where he’s talking to Michael Monroe, Cash Phillips, and their wives. Laughing happily and freely while they drink champagne.
The secret doesn’t seem to bother him at all.
“Yes. You’re here now, but you smell like him...” Kevin’s eyes stay pinned on me, his anger contained but right there under the surface. “Your hair is messy.” It’s not, I made sure. But it doesn’t matter.
“Kevin!” We both turn to see Cash approaching us, a jovial expression on his face. “Sebastian. I’m so glad you made it tonight.”
Kevin relaxes his shoulders, pasting the slick smile on his face as he turns to greet Cash. Ever the kissass. “We wouldn’t miss this, Cash.” He holds his hand out, and Cash shakes it before turning to me to do the same.
His handshake is firm, and his eyes are kind. “Hell of a race, kid.”
I smile genuinely at that because having a legend commend you on racing is a dream come true. “Thank you.”
“Yes. He’s on a streak.” Kevin pats my shoulder, boasting as usual about my talent and in some weird way trying to take credit for the win. “Which means we should probably get going soon so he can rest up.”
Cash shakes his head at that, a big smile on his face. “It’s not even ten o’clock. Please tell me he doesn’t have a bedtime.”
His eyes meet Kevin’s, and I watch my agent squirm, keeping his professional persona, even though I know he hates being challenged by Cash. I decide to make it even worse. “I don’t...” I nudge Kevin’s side with my elbow, keeping it playful. “But the old man here is probably anxious to get to bed.”
Kevin grimaces and his entire body is tense, but he doesn’t say any of the things he wants to. Just grits his teeth as Cash chuckles.
“Well, you go on. But I’m stealing your guy here for a bit.”
Cash wraps his arm around my shoulders, and Kevin’s face turns purple, but he doesn’t say a word. He gives a courteous nod and says his goodbyes before exiting. As he leaves, Cash releases me and mutters under his breath, “Prick.”
“What?” I say with a surprised smile.
Cash turns to face me head-on. “Your agent is a prick. You know that though.” I nod, even though it wasn’t a question. Then he asks, “How much longer is your contract with him?”
I’m surprised by the question. “Two years.” But I have to ask, “You have an opening in your client list or something?”
He grips his chin with his hand like he’s thinking and shakes his head. “I really don’t. I could maybe fit you in, but I have a better idea. One that won’t get me murdered by my wife, who’s already irritated with my busy schedule.”
I laugh at that because Leslie will certainly cut him if he takes on more clients. I don’t blame her either. They have kids and a life together most people dream about. She should get a part of him. “What idea?”
He grins. “I have a friend. A damn good sports agent.” He lowers his voice, his eyes narrowing on mine. “One who can help you.”
A hot feeling runs over me because I know what he’s saying even though he isn’t saying it. Goddammit. I glance over at Axel, who isn’t paying attention to us, and then back at Cash. “Did that asshole say something about me?”
Cash immediately shakes his head. “He wouldn’t do that. No one has said anything. But if you want a change, I think I can help.”
I look over at Axel, hating that I let my eyes roam for too long, then focus back on Cash, who to his credit doesn’t call me on it. “I... I’m stuck for two more years.”
“No. You aren’t.” He sounds so sure of himself. “You’re never stuck. If you want me to set up a meeting, I will.” He puts one hand on my shoulder and looks at me, saying things with his eyes he doesn’t say out loud. “No one deserves to hide pieces of themselves. Trust me on this. Life is too short.”
He looks toward the stage, where there’s a big blown-up black-and-white picture of his daughter—the one he lost—and then back at me with a deep sigh.
“I promised I would do everything I can to make the world a better place. And I damn sure will. You want out from under that fucker’s thumb, say the word.”
I don’t say anything.
I can’t seem to. My throat is clogged with so many damn emotions. And I feel hope overcoming me. Because it’s hard to relish the wins when it all feels fake.
I can’t make the words come out, but I manage a nod that makes a bright smile appear on his face before he nods back at me in acknowledgment.
“Done.”
