Faster Deeper (Take Me...#2) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) (6 page)

“You’re not exactly making matters better,” I tell him,
stepping away from his embrace, “Why did you have to fly off the handle in
there?”

“Pardon me?” Harrison says, “Are you actually angry with me
for getting that asshole to lay off?”

“I would have been just fine on my own, Harrison,” I tell
him, “I’ve been taking care of myself for twenty-five years without your help.
I know how to shake off a creep.”

“You can’t blame me for losing my temper,” Harrison says,
“He was all over you.”

“I can absolutely blame you!” I exclaim. “You’re a grown
man. You need to learn how to control yourself. Have you forgotten about the
hundred pictures of us that could come out at any minute if our blackmailer
sees us together again?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” Harrison snaps, “I’ve got
just as much to lose here as you do.”

“Then what were you thinking, racing to my defense like
that?” I demand, “If that’s not a tip off that something’s been going on
between us—”

“I was thinking,” Harrison growls, “That the woman I love
was in trouble. And I’m not going to apologize for wanting to take care of
you.”

“I’m not—”

“Maybe we should really take these weeks away from each
other,” Harrison says, “No more of these chance meetings. I’ll see you in front
of the State Museum in a week’s time. Until then, don’t you worry. You won’t
see hide or hair of me.”

“Harrison—” I say, reaching for him. But he slips back out
of the alley before I can catch him, leaving me alone once more. Deflated and
confused, I make my way back toward the club. Time to make good on that second
martini, after all.

I bury myself in work for the next several days, hoping to
distract myself from the increasingly awful shit storm swirling all around me.
Rising up six in the morning and heading out to a secluded cafe in a far corner
of Moscow to research, I manage to steer clear of anyone related to F1. I claim
exhaustion and impending illness and bow out of evening excursions, and keep my
door tightly barred against visitors. The only person I actually want to see
right now is Harrison. And since he refuses to see me for an entire two weeks,
I’d rather just be alone.

Luckily, there’s always plenty of work to be done for Team
Ferrelli. It’s a bottomless well to draw from. In this age of digitization and
instant access, PR is both a nightmare and an exciting challenge. With so much
of our private lives becoming open to the public through social media and the
Web in general, there’s a lot more potential for something to come along and
really derail even the best attempts at good behavior. And don’t I know it.

I’ve been crafting Enzo’s public persona since I was brought
onto the team after graduation. He’s always been a pretty easy driver to
manage, in that respect. The face he shows to the public is composed and
conservative, professional and sportsmanlike. Sure, his private indulgences may
not be as clean and shiny as all that, but those transgressions are easy to
divert the media’s attention from. At least, it’s been easy in the past. But
this season, my brother’s become more difficult to handle than ever. He’s
always had a temper, but he’s getting worse and worse at restraining it these
days.

This is the first year that Enzo really has a shot at taking
first place. From the start of this season, the awareness of that fact has been
changing him. He’s cockier than ever, not afraid to look like a hot head in
front of the press. But more worrying is his behavior on the track. He’s become
reckless with his advantage, bordering on careless at times. And it’s only
getting worse with every passing race. The old Enzo would never dream of
cutting another driver off unnecessarily, or threatening to drag a personal
feud onto the track. As I scramble to dust off Enzo’s public image, I start to
really get nervous about the impending Grand Prix. Would he really be so
vindictive, so stupid as to mess with Harrison on the track?

I shake off the question, unable to face it. I have to
believe that my brother is better than that. It’s the only way I’m going to
make it through this Grand Prix with my nerves even remotely intact. For the
first time in about three hours, I look up from my computer screen, taking in
the small, quiet Moscow cafe. It’s so peaceful here, so quaint. Sitting here,
alone at my little table, deeply immersed in my work, I can almost forget that
this sport is so much more to me than a job. God...what I wouldn’t give to be
able to go home for the night after a good day’s work. I glance toward the
barista behind the counter longingly. Maybe he’s got the right idea.

With a heavy sigh, I close my laptop and begin to gather my
things. I’m just about to stand up and pay when a flurry of fuchsia settles in
across the table from me.

“Not so fast,” Bex says, crossing her arms.

“Jesus Christ,” I exclaim, startled by her sudden presence.
“When did you—How—?”

“I followed you here, obviously,” she says, flicking a
blonde curl off her shoulder. “You’ve been a ghost for the last three days,
Siena. I had to get creative with my tactics.”

“I’ve just been really busy with work, Bex,” I tell her,
leaning back in my chair, “I was trying to find a little peace and quiet to get
ahead with—”

“You can’t lie to me, Lazio,” she cuts me off, “You forget
that I’m not your best friend these days, I’m also your coworker. I know how
much work there is for us to do, and I know you well enough to know your ‘I’m a
dirty liar’ face from a mile away. You're sunk, my darling.”

“So what is this, then?” I ask, a bit more harshly than I
mean to, “Some kind of interrogation? What do you want from me, Bex?”

“I want you to tell me what’s been going on with you since
Budapest,” she says, “You’ve been locking me out ever since the last Grand
Prix. I’m so worried about you, Siena. I can tell that something’s gone to shit
and all I want to do is help. Will you let me help you?”

“I...I don’t know if you can,” I finally say, my throat
thick with swallowed tears.

“At least let me in,” Bex urges quietly, “Whatever’s going
on, you shouldn’t have to shoulder it alone. Come on. This is what best friends
are for.”

“It might not be safe to tell you,” I say, lowering my
voice.

“Why the hell not?” she asks, “What do you mean, not safe?”

“There’s just...a lot of sensitive information involved,” I
say carefully.

“What, are you afraid you can’t trust me?” she asks, he eyes
shining with hurt.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” I tell her.

“I don’t understand, Siena.”

“The situation I’m in might be...sort of linked to someone
you’ve been spending a lot of time with,” I say, trying my best to be diplomatic.”

“What? Who have I...” comprehension dawns across her pretty
face, “Are you talking about Charlie?”

I nod wordlessly.

“You’re angry that I’ve been seeing him. I should have known
that. I mean, I know it weirds you out a little bit, but I didn’t think you’d
actually mind—”

“Bex, it’s not that. I don’t mind at all, you two hooking
up. You’re both adults, aren’t you? Normally I’d be thrilled to see you two
pair off.”

“But then why aren’t you? Why have you been so closed off to
us since I told you we were spending time together?”

“Things have gotten complicated,” I tell her.

“No shit,” she shoots back, “But how complicated?”

I lock eyes with my best friend as my mind scrambles. I’m
dying to tell her what’s been going on, to get the weight of my secret struggle
off my heart. I just have to let her in.

“Okay,” I start, clasping my hands on the table, “You have
to promise not to lose your shit and start threatening to end some bitches.”

“I will promise nothing of the sort,” Bex says without
missing a beat.

“Fine,” I say, taking a deep breath, “The situation between
Harrison and I...There’s this sort of...We may be...”

“What?”

“...Compromised,” I say softly.

“Oh God...” Bex breathes, covering my hands with hers, “Bex,
did your brother find out? Your dad?”

“Not yet,” I say, “But Bex, they could find out any second,
the way things are going.”

“Tell me everything,” she says.

“Back at the Budapest Grand Prix,” I begin, “Just as the
race was ending, I got a text from an unknown number. It was a picture message.
A gallery message, rather. About fifty pictures of me and Harrison together.
Kissing, holding hands, all of it. And just one line of text: ‘
Stay away, or the world finds out’.”

Bex’s jaw drops, her eyes wide
with shock. “You’re being blackmailed?” she whispers.

“So it would seem,” I say. “I got
a second batch, too. Someone out there has dozens and dozens of pictures of me
and Harrison, just waiting to go out to the press. Shit, if one of those photos
leaked, I’d be sunk. But a
hundred?
”

“I’m so sorry, Siena,” Bex says,
squeezing my hands, “You must be terrified.”

“Terrified, angry, violated, you
name it,” I tell her, my eyes welling up, “I don’t understand why someone would
want to hurt us this way. We’ve never done anything wrong. It’s not fair.”

“I know, I know,” Bex says, “It’s
bullshit. Not to mention illegal as hell. I mean, someone’s been stalking you,
Siena. Using these pictures to control you.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I say.

“But wait,” Bex says, her brow
furrowing, “What does this have to do with Charlie.”

“Come on Bex,” I tell her, “Don’t
make me say it out loud.”

“You don’t think...?” she says,
letting go of my hands, “Siena. You can’t possibly think that Charlie Spano
could be behind something like this.”

“Why not?” I challenge her, “If
anyone would have reason to try and keep Harrison and I apart, it’s him.”

“Siena, I’m sorry that this is
happening to you, and you know that I love you more than my own family...But
that is absolute bullshit.”

“What?”

“We all know how much Charlie
cares about you,” she goes on, “But you’re forgetting about the one great love
of his life. Team Ferrelli.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Why on earth would be threaten to
rat you out to the press, knowing what it would do to your family? To the whole
team?”

“I didn’t—”

“He loves you, Siena. He always
will. And I’m not talking puppy love, crush-level nonsense. You’re like family
to him. He would never stoop this low. He would never do anything to hurt you.
Can’t you see that? Charlie isn’t doing this. I just know it.”

I feel myself blush and drop my
eyes from Bex’s. God, I never even considered the fact that Charlie might not
even be interested in me romantically anymore. How presumptuous to assume that
he’d lose his mind over me being with someone else, enough so to put the team
in jeopardy? How could I have accused him of this in my mind without even
pausing to check myself. Sure, he’s been pissing me off this entire season with
his over-protectiveness and needless badmouthing of Harrison, but he’s still
Charlie. My Charlie. The boy I spent every summer of my childhood playing with.
The guy who was my constant shoulder to cry on during our teenage and college
years...The man who may very well be falling for my best friend in the world
right at this moment. I’ve been so horrible to him, all these weeks.

“I feel like such an idiot,” I
say, letting my face fall into my hands.

“You’re panicked, it’s
understandable,” Bex says, “But you’ve got to start looking at Charlie for who
he actually is, not who you’ve built him up to be in your head.”

“I know. I will,” I say, “Are you
two...How is it going?”

“Really well, actually,” she says,
“I’ve never been with someone who could make a world class driver like Rostov
seem like second best, that’s for sure. We just understand each other, I guess.
I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell her
with a smile, “That’s so wonderful, Bex.”

“It is...” she says, unable to
hide a smile of her own, “I never in my life would have guessed that he’d be my
type, but...here we are.”

“I’ll apologize to him, I tell
her, “I promise.”

“That would be good, I think.”

“I’m so sorry, Bex,” I say, “I’ve
been such a terrible friend.”

“You couldn’t be that if you
tried,” she assures me, “What you’re going through...it’s gigantic. I’d go a
little nuts too.”

“I just...I don’t have any idea
what to do,” I tell her.

“Harrison knows about it, I’m
guessing?”

“We found a minute to debrief.”

“Not the fun kind of de-briefing,
I take it?”

“Ha, ha.”

“Seriously though,” she says,
“What have you guys decided to do?”

“Nothing, for now. We’re going to
meet again in a week, after we’ve had some time to think. Until then I just
have to stay away, I guess.”

“So that’s why you’ve barricaded
yourself up,” Bex says.

“Pretty much.”

“Does Harrison have any idea who
might be out to get you?” she asks, looking around the tiny cafe. “Can you
think of anyone else?”

“I sure can,” I tell her, “You
remember the blonde woman from Team McClain, Shelby?”

“The one who spent the other night
attached to Enzo’s arm?” she asks.

“The very same. She’s been an ice
queen to me since the minute we met in Barcelona. She also happens to be one of
McClain’s social media managers. Every time I’ve seen her since these pictures
arrived, she’s looked like the cat who swallowed the canary.”

“Why would she do something like
this?” Bex asks.

“She’s probably carrying a torch
for Harrison or something,” I shrug.

“If that was so, why would she be
willing to destroy his career?”

I’m at a loss. “Well...Maybe...”

“Could it be that you’re
threatened by this Shelby person, where Harrison is concerned? Perhaps you’re
projecting a little bit...?”