“Do I look like I care?” Sometime during our tête-à-tête, he straightened to his full height that was more than a little imposing and folded his arms over his chest, but I’m not changing my way of life for his bullshit hang-ups. If his guys can’t control their dicks, that’s not on me.
“I think I don’t care,” I replied, and then I raced around the island on the far side of him, snatched my keys off the hook by the door, and ran toward the garage. Two steps down from the house, King hooks me around my belly with a strong arm and hauls me up off my feet.
He holds me to him with one arm and beeps the locks on his key fob with the other before flinging open the front passenger door of his SUV. King tosses me onto the seat and orders me about with a tersely spoken “Stay,” and then he slams the door closed before walking back to the house to lock the door. Even with the obvious level of his anger on the rise, his movements are still fluid and catlike. This man is a predator and not a plaything. I would do good to remember that.
I sit in the front seat with my arms wrapped around my waist, silently fuming.
He makes his way back to the SUV and climbs into the driver seat. I open my mouth to let him know I am not playing these bullshit games, but he slices a palm through the air and holds it out to me.
“Don’t spew a bunch of bullshit at me,” he growls. “I am here to protect you. I am not here to pamper and spoil you. And by the look of you, you don’t have any want in that department,fresa.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” he replies. “I don’t hold hands with spoiled celebrities. You want to stay alive, then do what I say. You don’t, then your dad is the one who will have to live with the consequences of your actions.”
“Ouch,” I whispered. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“I’m not a very nice guy.”
And I’d do good to remember that too.
Instead of responding, I turned my head toward the window and watched the highway pass by, lost in my own thoughts as we make our way to the track in East County. When we get there, he pulls through the gate with ease. Apparently security was briefed yesterday, because he drives right around to my garage, where he parks in my spot. I try not to let that chafe, but it does.
I pull in a steadying breath and turn to unbuckle my belt, and I’m making great effort not to look in his eyes. It’s stupid and it’s weak, and I hate that he’s made me so, but worse than that would be if he found out how badly he hurt me with his callous words.
I need to get out of this vehicle as quickly as possible.
It’s stupid—I know. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me, so why did I let his words, as mean as they might have been, cut me so deeply? I shouldn’t; that’s the answer. So now that I know, I won’t let him. He’s here to do a job, and that is to protect my life. My job is to win some fucking races so I can earn the life I was meant to live. That’s it. And I’m going to remember that and not anything else. We’re not going to be best friends who stay up late, braiding each other’s hair and sharing our deepest secrets. We’re also not going to be lovers. So now I really need to get out of this fucking car.
His hand stills mine over the latch to my belt, and I suck in a deep breath but don’t raise my gaze to meet his.
“Fresa,” King calls gently. “Look at me.”
I bite my lip and look up at him. I don’t want to, but the warm gold of his hazel eyes pulls me in.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“I know.”
“I need to know you’re going to listen to me and do exactly what I say,” he says calmly, and the tight leash on my control begins to fray. I want to yell and scream. How dare he tell me that I need to come to heel? Not to mention his insinuation that the precarious turn my life has taken is somehow my fault is more than a little offensive. But I’m not going to let him get a rise out of me again.
I pull in a calming breath, and then I reply, “I can’t guarantee I will act and react the way you want me to. But I can promise to try my best to stay out of your way and not do anything to compromise my safety.”
He watches me for what seems like a ridiculously long time. It feels like he somehow sees everything, even what I want to hide the most. I can’t take any more of his watchful gaze, so I snap, “Can I go to work now?”
“Yeah,” he replies gently. “You can go to work now.”
“Thanks.” And then I press down on the latch to my seatbelt until it pops with an audible click, and I lean away from him—as far away as I can get—and grab the door handle to push it open. I jump down, and I’m motoring toward my garage at the track, when I’m grabbed by the back of my tank. I let out a little “eep!”
“Not out of my sight,” King growls into my ear. “If you can’t see me, I can’t see you.”
I feel my heart beating in my throat so strongly I’m not sure I can speak, so I just nod. He seems to accept it, because he lets me go.
I head into the bay and see Amy and Luna waiting for me. The excitement shimmering on their faces is plain to see.
“What’s up?”
“We’ve been asked to be inFormula One Magazine,” Amy says. She’s practically vibrating.
