“With all the relationship advice you dish out, how the fuck are you still single?”
His mouth curved in a smirk. “Single but solicited.”
No doubt about that. Even now, a few girls in the crowd couldn’t take their eyes off him.
“Isn’t that your friend?” Ale asked, nodding toward two men approaching—oblivious to the attention or too used to it.
Rys led the way, Elio a step behind. Both dressed in black, Elio stood just as tall as Rys’s six-foot-two frame, looking every bit the bodyguard Rys had claimed he was.
“Sorry for the delay.” Rys shook Ale’s hand. “A meeting ran long. I’m Emrys, this is Elio.”
“Alejandro,” Ale said.
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Rys said, then glanced at me with a smile. “That last race in Mugello was spectacular. Wish I could’ve watched it in person.”
He’d been to quite a few of my races, and my crew and I stayed at Delano Hotels when traveling. We made a point to catch up whenever we landed in the same city.
“Come to the next one in March,” I said.
Elio chuckled. “He’ll pencil it in right now. His calendar fills fast—we plan everything months out. That said, if you ever need a security detail at a race, I’m available.”
I snorted. “I’m not that well known, but thanks.”
Not entirely true—more people recognized me these days. But I didn’t want attention off the track. I’d rather be known for my sport than the shoes I wore or the parties I went to. Other than the posts my sponsors demanded, I stayed off social media too. Ale hated that—he’d chewed my ear off more than once about “branding.”
A man in a navy suit clapped Rys on the shoulder by our booth. “I’m Howard, owner of the club,” he said, glancing at us. “Hope you’re having an amazing time. Drinks are on me.” After introductions, he grinned at me. “Asher Williams.” He shook my hand hard. “That race in Mugello was fantastic. Roy won’t have it easy next season.”
I fucking wished. Roy was the reigning world champion for a reason. I had yet to match his skill, though I’d finished every race second.
I smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”
Howard turned to Ale, launching into talk about the club’s layout. I let my gaze drift over the dance floor, sipping my sparkling water.
A group of girls moved in the center, swallowed by the crowd. One spun, and my stomach clenched. Shiny hair spilling down her back. The slim waist I’d gripped too few times. A crop top bared her stomach above wide-leg jeans, and I almost smiled. It was like seeing her rush toward me that night at the countryside hotel.
So much had changed. Somehow, nothing had.
Kaia tipped her head back, laughing at something her friend whispered. The song shifted to reggaeton, and her hips rolled in slow, perfect circles.
She got lost in the music. I got lost in her.
The people around her noticed too. They stepped back, giving her space. She beckoned her girlfriends, and the four of them moved together, bodies lit with rhythm and heat.
“Those four can move,” Elio said, his gray eyes fixed on Kaia.
I clenched my jaw. Fuck no.
Rys arched a brow. He didn’t know her yet, but we were close enough that he’d seen her picture—set as my phone wallpaper.
“Asher’s girl,” he said, calm but edged with don’t even think about it.
“That so?” Elio smirked. “Then maybe you’re not the one who needs my services.”
He pointed his whiskey at the men circling too close.
Ale shot me a look sharp enough to slice through the bass. A reminder: she had to come to me. She had to want to listen. But my throat dried, and my fists clenched under the table.
She wasn’t dancing for them. She was dancing for herself. Dancing had always been her escape. But the urge to do something burned in my blood, buzzing through every nerve.
