Of course he would. Despite being at the top of his game and being familiar with the track, Taz would still inspect it with his race and performance engineers and his race strategist. Winning his fourth consecutive championship was all that mattered, and he was on record as saying he’d do anything and everything to make that happen. Interviews, PR and making nice with the sponsors and his brand partners were way down on his list of priorities.
Now for the hard bit… ‘There’s a lot of buzz about you and Meredith. How would you like us to handle it?’
His gaze pinned her feet to the ground. ‘How do you think I want you to handle it?’ he asked, his tone silky with disdain.
‘By not responding to it?’
‘So why did you bother to ask?’ His voice remained low but edged in steel.
It was a good question. Millie looked around for an answer, but the empty corridor, uninteresting and silent with its polished floors and stark lighting, held no answers. She swallowed, conscious of Taz’s cool confidence, so sure the world would accommodate itself to his will. He didn’t move or speak, but he didn’t need to. Wherever he went, his sheer presence demanded complete attention, and Millie wasn’t immune. She remained immobile, her composure wavering under the intensity of his stare.
Why was he looking at her like that?
He was, she frantically reminded herself, a Formula One legend.
Untouchable. Ruthless. Relentless.
His eyes remained locked on her face, her body still tightened beneath his scrutiny, and baby fireworks erupted over her skin. Electricity ran through her, down her spine and out of her toes. Her heart flip-flopped around her ribcage, and her stomach vibrated. And where had all the moisture in her mouth gone? Did he have to stand so close? And why was her stomach suddenly doing somersaults?
Judging by his narrowed eyes and the infinitesimal hint of a smug smile from lips perpetually set in either a smirk or a scowl, he was very aware of his effect on her. She cursed her treacherous body for liking his and him for knowing that it did. After another tense few seconds, Millie wrenched her eyes away and stared down again at her tablet.
She was, she reminded herself, here to figure out her life, not to date. She did not need the complication of having any kind of feelings for her boss.
It galled her to admit that whenever she thought of dating, Taz’s tough face flashed before her eyes. Something beyond his good looks and aura of capability and confidence intrigued her. He was the human version of the Chinese nesting boxes she’d seen sightseeing yesterday. Which box held the authentic version of Taz De Rossi? No one knew, certainly not her. And it didn’t matter because he was…
Out. Of. Her. League.
He would never ask her out; she would never accept. But it was a universal law of life that people like him, people like her parents, didn’t look down, they looked up or around. Like, after all, attracted like. The reality was that in today’s world, there was an unspoken status system, a psychological way of pushing people into their lane. The rich and beautiful occupied one top echelon, and so it went down in layers of beauty, charm and wealth. It was how the world worked, and anyone who thought being rich and beautiful didn’t put you in a position of power was naive. Of course it did.
Millie pushed her thoughts away: It was time for her to get back to work. But more than anything, she needed distance from Taz. When she wasn’t around him, she was sane and rational. When she was within twenty yards of him, lust-coated stupidity lived in her head rent free alongside questions like why he acted the way he did and why he, on some level, intrigued her. Why did she keep hoping for more beyond his haughty attitude and stop-the-traffic looks? Why was she hunting for a hint of authenticity?
Enough, Millie. He’s a lost cause.
She turned to walk away, but his hand shot out, gripped her elbow and stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face him and raised her eyebrows. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
Her pulse quickened. ‘Which one?’ she said, pretending she didn’t understand.
He stared at her, calling her bluff. Millie rubbed the back of her neck. He wasn’t going to let her walk away until she gave him an answer to his original question about Meredith. ‘Uh, you looked protective, not…um…turned-on. I saw it in the way you held Meredith’s hand.’
Confusion raced across his face. ‘The way I held her hand?’
Millie locked her fingers together. ‘Lovers hold their hands linked this,’ she said as she demonstrated. ‘You held her hand like you would hold the hand of a daughter or sister.’
‘Pretty observant,’ he stated.
She tipped her head to the side and noticed curiosity in his eyes.
No, shehadto be imagining it.
‘It’s my job to analyse the way the media covers you, just like it’s my job to keep you on message.’ She kept her tone crisp and professional, ignoring the way her body tightened beneath his scrutiny.
He didn’t move a muscle, but it felt like he’d leaned in, closer than he was before. ‘So how’s that working out for you?’ he asked, his voice husky, the tiniest glint of humour in his pewter-coloured eyes.
They both knew the answer to his question wasBadly. Millie released a heavy sigh, and beneath the dark scruff edging his lips his mouth curved into a super-swift, able-to-melt-glass smile. So that was what it felt like to touch a lightning bolt.
Millie suppressed the urge to check whether anyone was standing behind her. This was the first time he’d said anything even vaguely personal to her, had instigated conversation. Was he toying with her? She wrinkled her nose and rocked on her heels, uncomfortable. Was she judging him harshly because his confidence, charisma and success triggered the same feelings of inadequacy as her parents’ did? Was it easier to think poorly of him?
Millie looked past Taz to the door to the hospitality suite. ‘I should get back in there.’
