Millie sighed. They were both exceptionally busy and currently run off their feet and had little time to spend together. Conversations, mainly work-based, were rushed, and while they kept up their fake relationship in public and shared a bed at night, they hadn’t connected on a personal level lately. Sure, their days were long and chaotic, but she couldn’t help thinking Taz was avoiding her.
Since meeting up again, there had been fleeting moments of…oh, it was so hard to define! A glance. A hesitation. Heat that was quickly banked, a tiny spark of tenderness quickly smothered. He looked, only to her, like a man grappling with something he couldn’t control, like he’d pulled the pin on a grenade and now didn’t know where to throw it.
Her phone buzzed, and Millie frowned when she saw a message on the De Rossi employees group chat. Taz wanted the entire team to congregate on the track outside the De Rossi pit stop in five minutes. Millie raised her eyebrows. It was the end of the day, and everyone was tired. Why was Taz calling a team meeting now?
Millie made her way down to the track and joined her unusually sombre colleagues, a little confused at the unusual summons.
Taz, dressed in a dark suit with an open-necked white shirt, pushed his way through the crowd to her. He held a massive bouquet of white lilies and roses, which he pushed into her hands. Then, he took her hand in his, linking their fingers. Drivers and crew members from the other teams joined the De Rossi team.
Taz cleared his throat, and the crowd quietened. ‘Millie James is Ben Brennan’s cousin, and ten years ago, Ben lost his life on this very track.’ He looked down at her. ‘We are all here to remember Ben, Millie. Let’s go, sweetheart,’ he softly murmured, his deep voice surprisingly tender.
It took Millie a few beats for her to realise that Taz had arranged a memorial service for Ben, a way for her to commemorate his death and for his colleagues in the racing world to pay their respects to one of their own. And in doing so, he confirmed every instinct she’d had about him: that Taz was far better than the man he pretended to be. Hand in hand, they began a slow, deliberate walk onto the track. Behind them, the crowd followed—drivers, mechanics, managers, and others—moving quietly. The kaleidoscope of uniforms blended, team loyalties forgotten, united in paying tribute to one of their own. A wave of gratitude rolled through her. Taz wasn’t just giving her a way to honour Ben, he was honouring her grief, her memories and her love for her cousin in a way that spoke louder than words ever could.
He’d used all his power and influence to create a moment she would carry with her forever. And for the first time in weeks, Millie felt as though she could finally begin to let go. Tears spilt freely down her cheeks. She clung to Taz’s hand, his steady grip anchoring her as they walked. After several minutes, he guided her to the side of the track, his hand firm on her waist.
‘This is where it happened,’ he murmured, his voice low. ‘This is where Ben crashed, Millie.’
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. Dropping to her knees, she placed the bouquet on the edge of the track, her fingers brushing the cool asphalt. Her voice was barely a whisper, but she spoke anyway, hoping that somehow Ben could hear her.
‘Ben, I miss you. So much. I wish I’d spent more time with you, that I’d seen you more. I’m sorry.’
On her haunches, she stared at the bouquet, grateful that Taz’s big body formed a barrier between her and the crowd behind her. ‘I’m trying to be better, Ben, and I’m slowly making sense of my life and my place in the world… I really hope you’re proud of me, Ben,’ she added, her tears flowing unchecked.
At the same time Taz’s big hand came to rest on her shoulder, steadying and grounding her, Ben’s voice rolled through her.There wasn’t a day I wasn’t, Mils.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she felt his presence—a breath of wind, his laughter dancing on the air. Then a deep voice rose behind her, singing the first line of ‘Amazing Grace’.
Millie’s composure shattered. Kneeling on the track with Taz behind her, shielding her, she sobbed for everything she’d lost: for the cousin who’d been like a brother, for the girl she used to be and for the woman she was struggling to become.
Hours later, comprehensively exhausted, Taz stood in the passage outside his hotel suite and rested his hand on the door. It had been a long and tough day in a series of long and tough days, and he was shattered. He was used to working hard, but organising Ben’s memorial service had taken more effort than anybody—especially Millie—knew. Getting permission from the stewards to walk the track as a huge group, just a day before the time trials, had taken some persuading—the track was looked after like a newborn baby—and when that was done, he’d contacted the other teams and rallied support for the memorial. He hadn’t wanted to raise her hopes in case he couldn’t pull it off, so keeping it from Millie had been difficult. Apparently, he no longer liked hiding things from her. His thoughts, emotions, what he was thinking and doing.
And there was the root of his dilemma. He wanted to both protect himself and to deepen his connection to Millie. Wanted to keep his distance yet also know her inside out. While trying to run a multibillion-dollar company, manage his team and promote his charity work, he was consistently battered by conflicting emotions, desires and needs.
God, he was a mess. And he didn’t like it. But he didn’t—couldn’t—regret arranging Ben’s memorial service. He had done it partly as an apology for not immediately understanding why she couldn’t face being at the track the day she arrived in Italy, and partly because he remembered Millie saying she wanted to visit the place where Ben died. Mostly because he suspected she needed to reconnect, even if it was through death, with her cousin. Bottom line: Millie’d needed it, so he’d stepped up and made it happen.
He couldn’t stay out here, so Taz opened the door and stepped into the room. Millie sat on the bed, looking frail and played-out, emotionally whipped. Resisting the urge to scoop her up and cuddle her—he wasn’t a cuddler!—he stayed by the door, keeping his restless hands in his trouser pockets.
‘You need to eat, Millie,’ he stated, his voice rough.
‘I can’t,’ she replied. She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. Her huge, emotion-drenched eyes met his. ‘How can I eat when words are bubbling inside me, when I have so much gratitude that needs to be expressed?’
He didn’t want her thanks, couldn’t handle her gratitude. It was too much. There were too many emotions swirling around, and he felt battered from all sides.
As per normal, he found words and conversation difficult and struggled to find the right response. ‘Words aren’t what I need, Mils.’
Moving toward him, she placed her hands flat against his chest, stood on her toes and placed her lips on his rough-with-stubble cheek. She stayed there for a long time—a minute or a decade? Who knew?—and when she finally returned to her feet, her eyes slammed into his, and he tumbled into a field of African violets…a lot of blue, hints of purple.
‘What do you need, Taz?’
‘I need you, Millie,’ he whispered. God, he prayed she didn’t ask him how or why or to explain that statement any further.
‘You do?’
In so many ways he couldn’t express. ‘Will you stay with me tonight?’
‘Yes.’
Millie’s arms wrapped around his waist, handing him a hug he didn’t know he needed. She was the one who’d cried today, who’d weathered an emotional storm, but now he was the one absorbing her warmth, sucking in her quiet strength. She recharged his batteries and refilled his well. Taz buried his nose in her fragrant hair as panic barrelled through him. What was happening to him and, more importantly, how on earth was he going to find the distance he knew he very badly needed?
