Thrust: Bad Boy Racing Romance (Fastlane Series Book 2) (4 page)

I finished putting on my makeup and took a final look, reminding myself one last time of everything I had at stake. Before leaving my hotel room, I took the signature page from Marco’s client agreement, folded it and slipped it into my clutch. One way or another, I’d get the deal inked, tonight.

A couple of hours earlier, I’d received a text from Marco letting me know he’d send a limousine to pick me up. Walking out of the hotel a few minutes later, I noticed it nearby, and before long we drove out of the parking lot. After a short ride through the streets of Monte Carlo, the limousine pulled up in front of a glittering, glowing entrance to a stunning casino hotel. When you make a habit of rubbing elbows with the super wealthy for a living, you grow accustomed to being around beautiful people and the trappings of wealth. Even so, when I exited the limousine, the opulence of it all took me back a bit.

Once I’d entered, I made my way to the grand ballroom and stopped for a moment. With my arms straight, I held my clutch low, in front of my body. Scanning the room for a familiar face, I noticed Marco about thirty feet away, laughing and talking with a small group of people. Not long after, during a break in the conversation, he happened to glance in my direction.

I smiled at him.

He looked at me and raised his arm slightly, gesturing towards me with his index finger. The eyes of everyone in the group followed his gesture. I hadn’t expected the sudden attention. Looking away, and still holding my clutch in one hand, I reached up and pulled a strand of hair away from the side of my face. By the time I looked back in the direction of the group, Marco was headed in my direction.

The lean musculature of his body rippled beneath the fine fabric of his custom fit tuxedo. He moved across the room with the grace of a lion on the hunt. Once again, I caught myself staring at him in a way I shouldn’t. Yet, if I broke my gaze, it would only give him more confidence. That was the last thing I needed. Instead, I drew my shoulders up and took a deep breath. Within seconds, he’d moved to within arms’ length.

“You look stunning,” he said, bringing his face close to mine.

Marco took my hand, and I readied myself for him to kiss it. He didn’t. Before I could react, he leaned in and instead kissed me once on each cheek, catching me completely off guard. The heat from his lips lingered on my face, sending another unexpected pulse through me. I squeezed my thighs together, pinching them tight in frustration when just then, his scent engulfed me.

It was a heady, thick aroma, a blend of tobacco, cocoa and vanilla. He smelled like European glamour and old world charm rolled into one smoldering temptation. After he kissed me the second time, on the opposite cheek, he lingered, moving his lips across my face and just to the outside of my ear. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled to attention. Beneath the ultra-fine material of his tuxedo, I felt the hardness of his lean, chiseled torso.

“I have something else to tell you, Dani,” he whispered.

The heat from his breath puffed against my earlobe, arousing me even more. I struggled to find a response.

“Y-you do?” I stammered, my voice cracking enough to be noticeable.

Marco reached for my waist and slipped his hand around it, pinching it a bit.

“Yes,” he began, pulling me towards him with a steady force. “If you so much as mention anything about the agreement, or money, while we are here together, you can forget about the deal.”

He finished speaking and leaned away from me. My eyes met his. He never blinked.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

Instinctively, I squeezed my clutch. Inside, the signature page of his agreement remained folded and safe, unlike me. I nodded.

“Yes, absolutely,” I replied, after what seemed like forever. “That was never my intention, Marco.”

No sooner had I spoken those words than Marco’s expression brightened.

“Good,” he replied, the tone in his voice matching the sudden softening in his face. “I need to relax and have fun tonight. There'll be plenty of time to discuss business.”

With that, Marco turned, bent his arm at the elbow and nodded, gesturing for me to walk with him. Over the next fifteen minutes or so he and I mingled, wandering between one group of beautiful people and the next. During this time, Marco smiled and joked with everyone we met. It was a side of him I hadn’t yet seen. He seemed so at ease, so content, and far different from the prickly persona he’d shown to me so far. At one point, we made our way to the bar and ordered cocktails.

“Well, what do you think?” Marco asked, passing a dirty martini to me.

I wrapped my fingers around the chilled glass. “What do you mean?”

Marco nodded and gestured towards the ballroom full of people.

“About the gala? Are you enjoying yourself?”

I swallowed my first sip. The liquor’s heat warmed me as it slid down my throat.

I licked my lips a fraction and smiled at him. “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “No reason.”

With that, Marco lifted his cocktail to his lips and drank. I frowned at him. What did he mean by ‘no reason’? But before I could get another word out, I noticed Marco look beyond me. He nodded at someone approaching from my rear.

“When did you get here?” Marco began, placing his drink on the bar while still looking behind me.

“Who are you…?” the mystery voice boomed. “My fucking Mom?”

I turned. A gorgeous man with long, dirty blonde hair, steel blue eyes, and a build similar to Marco’s appeared in front of me. Marco passed by me and they hugged. Big smiles and mouthfuls of white flashed between the two men.

After their embrace, both of them turned to face me. The strange man nodded at me. He gestured towards me with his thumb and index finger, pointed in my direction like an imaginary gun.

“Who…” he began. “Is
this?
”

Marco looked at me and replied, “This is Dani Simms.”

I tightened my grip on my martini glass and smiled back at him while Marco continued, “Dani, this is my teammate, Dyson Vix.”

Where Marco carried himself with subtle hints of European style, Dyson seemed direct, brash, and without a doubt, American.

“What’s up, Dani?” Dyson began, extending his hand in my direction.

Still smiling, I returned his greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Dyson.”

Before I could get another word in, Marco spoke. “Where is Ava? I thought you said she was coming.”

Dyson looked away from me, focusing his attention on Marco.

“She was going to, but something came up last minute. It couldn’t be helped.”

With that, the two of them began having a discussion about team business. While they did, I turned my gaze to the gathering of people inside the ballroom. Maybe it was the alcohol, but soon I found myself relaxing and much more at ease in the situation than I expected to be. For just a few minutes I’d lost sight of why I was there.

It was nice to relax and enjoy myself for a change. I dragged my fingertips along the edge of my glass, savoring the temporary relief from the tension I’d felt since our initial meeting.

Who was the real Marco?

Truthfully, the ease with which he handled himself in our meeting and then in a crowded ballroom made me a bit envious. Being a social butterfly was never one of my strengths. I’d made the decision long ago to sacrifice things like that in order to achieve my goal. Yet, at times like this, I wondered if the trade-off was worth it.

I took another sip of my cocktail when another thought occurred to me. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t considered it until this moment.

Why didn’t he already have a date?

DANI

Later that evening, at the conclusion of the banquet and awards ceremony, I stood from my chair and felt the combined effects of jet lag and one too many cocktails.

“Whoa,” Marco said, getting to his feet in a flash. He placed his hand in my lower back. “Are you okay?”

I rocked in place a bit. Reaching up, I touched my fingertips to my forehead and gathered my wits. “Yeah, I-I think I just stood up too fast.”

Marco reached behind me and pulled my chair away. With his palm still flat against my lower back, he nodded.

“Okay Cinderella,” he began, gesturing towards the ballroom exit. “Let’s get you back to your carriage.”

I smiled at him, and after saying our goodbyes to the people seated at our table we made our way to the hotel’s exit and a waiting limousine. Once we reached it, I slid inside and scooted across the seat. Marco didn’t follow immediately but instead chatted with a few people curbside. I took the opportunity to remind myself what I was there to accomplish. Somehow, yet again, I’d lost track of my purpose.

I glanced down towards my clutch. Inside of it was the signature page - the ticket to my freedom. After his stern warning earlier, I decided it was probably too risky to bring it up right away. Instead, I had no choice but to wait and see how the evening unfolded.

I had no reason to think he wouldn’t try something. Still not sure of how I’d react, I drew my thighs inward, touching my knees together at the thought of it. Just then, I noticed Marco getting into the limousine. A subtle rush of wind carried his scent in my direction. I swallowed hard and turned my attention towards the window and the glittering lights of Monte Carlo in the distance, just beyond the back seat window.

We rode along in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t recognize the direction we headed. It seemed to be opposite the direction of where I was staying. I turned to look at him.

“Isn’t my hotel the other way?”

Marco’s hands rested comfortably on his thighs.

“Yes.”

That was all he said.

Confused, I frowned at him. “Where are we going?”

Marco leaned away from me a bit. The fine leather of the car seat squeaked beneath his shifting weight.

“Why? Don’t you trust me, Dani?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t
not
trust him. I looked at him in silence for another moment or two.

“Yes.” I replied, a few seconds later.

He smiled.

“Good.”

With my mouth dry from the cocktails, I decided to change the subject. Like Marco with Formula One, the public achievements of his father Antonio were well known. Starting from nothing, he’d managed to build a multi-billion-dollar shipping and real estate empire. In some ways, I viewed myself as a bit of a risk taker but nothing like what I'd witnessed with high flying entrepreneurs. And even though Marco didn’t run his own business, it was hard to deny the fact that the same blood that had driven  his father pumped in his veins.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said, glancing in his direction.

Marco looked at me. Light and shadow moved across his face, a result of the streetlights shining through the backseat window. He didn’t speak but instead just nodded. Reaching up, I slid my fingers into my hair and tucked it behind my ear.

“Your father, Antonio…” I began, pausing and turning my upper body towards him. “What was he like?”

Marco didn’t respond. He arched an eyebrow in my direction and glared at me. I pulled away.

“What?”

“Why would you ask me a question like that?”

I felt the skin of my forehead tighten. A frown came to it.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with that question?”

He shrugged, breaking his gaze on me and turning his attention out the window.

“It seems a bit disingenuous, Dani.”

“How is it disingenuous?”

His attitude was beginning to rub me the wrong way. He exhaled, still not looking towards me.

“Let’s not pretend, Dani.”

“Marco… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He turned and looked at me again.

“You and I both
want something
from each other. If you want to learn anything about my father, most of his life is a matter of public record. I am enjoying your company, but the subject of my father is not one I’m going to discuss with you.”

And just like that, the same aloof man I’d met aboard the yacht returned. Frankly, after the enjoyable evening we had together, he was quickly finding a way to ruin it. Annoying though it was, I couldn’t afford to risk losing the chance that he’d sign the deal. I cleared my throat and swallowed my frustration.