She tried to tug her hand away: He was going to give everyone the wrong impression, and that was a headache neither of them needed. If he’d let go of her hand, she could slip behind the crowd, swipe her pass and wait on the other side of the paddock.
A journalist pointed his camera at their linked hands. ‘Are you in a relationship with your press liaison officer, Taz?’ he demanded, his eyebrows raised.
Taz looked down at their hands but didn’t release the clasp. ‘You know I never answer questions about my personal relationships.’
Millie tugged her hand out of his, and when he looked at her, she motioned to the turnstile. ‘I need my hand to get my pass out of my bag,’ she hissed.
Taz pushed his sunglasses into his hair and caught the eye of one of the security guards manning the turnstiles. ‘Can you let us through, Juan?’
The turnstiles clicked open, and Millie stumbled into the paddock, still feeling the heat of Taz’s palm on hers. She watched as he casually pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants, and she caught the corners of his mouth lifting.
‘You did that on purpose!’ she shout-whispered, as they walked to the De Rossi section of the paddock.
Taz greeted a driver and shook hands with another. After answering a question about his hand from another team owner, he looked down at Millie. ‘I didn’t want to lose you in the crowd,’ he told her.
What nonsense! There weren’t that many people on this side of the fence, and she could’ve easily dodged them if he’d let her go. No, he was trying to manipulate her into acting as his girlfriend and thought by creating the perception, she’d bend.
It was something her parents would do, had done. Like Taz, they never took no for an answer. ‘I won’t be pressurised into acting as your girlfriend, Tazio De Rossi’ she told him, surprised at her vehemence. And, maybe, a little proud of herself. It was about time she was able to stick up for herself.
He stopped, pulled her out of the way and folded his arms. ‘What do you have to lose?’ he asked, keeping his voice low, intimate, a hint of a challenge in it. ‘You’re going to be spending the next six weeks with me anyway. Why not get an extra million for holding my hand and looking at me in a somewhat adoring manner?’
He’d increased his offer again. The mind boggled at what he was offering, thinking of all the things she could do with that kind of money, like how she could fund Ben’s dream of training talented underprivileged teen racers. But she needed to keep thinking clearly. ‘Everyone will think I am unprofessional mixing business and pleasure,’ Millie shot back.
‘Everyone knows I am difficult to work with. They are already impressed you’ve stuck it out this long,’ Taz responded wryly. ‘Most of my press liaison officers barely last the week, never mind two months. They certainly don’t get promoted.’
He wasn’t wrong that this could help people see he wasn’t the man they thought he was. She was also trying to step out of her comfort zone, to do things that challenged her, be less like her ultra-cautious self.You’re mad if you don’t take him up on his offer, squirt.
Ben’s voice was so clear, she could swear that if she turned she would see him standing there.
Be brave, take a chance.
She stomped her foot and released a low hiss of frustration. She had Ben’s voice in her ear, and if she said no, she felt she’d be letting him, as well as herself, down.
‘Is that ayes?’ Taz asked.
Millie scowled at him. ‘A million. A third now, a third in three weeks, the balance at the end of six weeks.’
Taz dared to grin at her. The blasted man never doubted the outcome of his proposal. What was it like being so certain all the time, so convinced that the dominoes of life would fall in line for you?
‘Deal.’
Millie thrust her hand at him, expecting him to shake it and was caught off guard when Taz clasped her fingers and lifted them to his lips. She shivered, and ribbons of heat and light darted down her fingers and up her arm. Damn the man for being so sexy, and relentlessly charming. ‘Excellent.’
He wrapped his uninjured hand around hers and tugged her toward the De Rossi section of the paddock. ‘I’m expecting a decent turnout for the press conference,’ Millie said.
‘I’m Taz De Rossi, and they’ve been baying for one. They’ll be there,’ Taz stated with complete conviction. ‘They wouldn’t miss it.’
Oh, to be so self-assured. But he was right, as they’d been flooding her email and phone requesting interviews or asking for a comment. ‘I have a draft statement I’m still working on. I’ll get it to you within thirty minutes,’ she told him, very conscious of her hand in his. People started noticing, their eyes darting to their linked hands and their eyebrows rising. Five minutes in and she already felt like a goldfish in a too-small bowl.
‘I’ll look at it, but expect changes,’ Taz stated, pushing her ahead of him as they walked into the area allocated to the De Rossi Racing team. Of course he would change what she wrote, because Taz never did what was expected of him. Millie watched as members of his technical team approached him.
Taz squeezed her hand before letting it go. ‘Text me when you’ve finished with my statement, and we can go over it. If I’m not in the pit, find me.’
Millie nodded and watched him walk away, surrounded by his people, everyone wanting something from him. She’d been swept up into Taz’s world, into the maelstrom he created. He was taking her acceptance to be his fake girlfriend as a given.
And she was, probably, going to let him.
And if she found herself floundering in choppy, unfamiliar waters, she had no one to blame but herself.
