And that dress.
Who the hell was in charge of the wardrobe? Surely Rosa Negra Couture’s line had dresses that were a little less revealing.
Tessa’s entire back is exposed.
I’ve already pictured myself breaking her date’s hand for brushing his fingers across her spine.
“Thank you, Rome. You’re free to go on in.”
Rebecca and I are ushered off the carpet, making room for Beck and his date.
I recognize her from that first night in Vegas, at the bar, which seems like a lifetime ago. If I remember correctly, she’s Tessa’s friend.
Rebecca stops walking on our way to the bar area. “You look amazing in that dress,” she says to someone. “Like it was made for you!”
I already know without looking that she’s referring to Tessa.
Even on the days when Tessa is at HQ for more than twelve hours, she looks amazing—not that I’d admit that to her. But tonight? She’s downright irresistible.
“Oh.” Tessa shifts awkwardly, and it’s obvious she’s avoiding me. “Uh, thank you.”
“Told you,” Jasper whispers loud enough for me to hear. “That dress is going to kill me tonight.”
Not if I get to you first.
The rest of cocktail hour is spent mingling with Rosa Negra Couture’s top performers, potential sponsors, media representatives, and my other personality that can’t seem to get it together where Tessa is involved.
Every slight brush of Jasper’s hand on her back, or hip, or even his hungry gaze in her direction, makes me twitch with jealousy, and that’s not something I’m used to.
I’m desperate for it to disappear.
“Are you okay?” Rebecca peeks at me over the rim of her glass cup. “You seem tense.”
Rebecca has been to a handful of events with me and plays her part well. She never misses out on an opportunity to attend as my date, because the more the media focuses on her potential relationship with me, the less they focus on her actual relationship with her much older modeling agent.
It’d be a scandal in the modeling community.
Just like anything between Tessa and me would be a scandal in the F1 community.
Ethics and all of that.
“I’m fine.” I adjust my bowtie. “I’m just worried about the race.”
I am worried about the race, because as of late, I’m having a difficult time concentrating on the actual skillset I possess to win.
“You’re under a lot of stress.” Rebecca’s eyes soften around the edges. “I’m sure your father is beside himself from you up and leaving Pierce.”
Funny.
I haven’t really thought much about my father.
Our attention is pulled to the front of the room, where a man and two women wearing dresses similar to Tessa’s stand in front of a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will find your seats.”
“Unveiling moment,” I mutter. “Come on.”
This time, I force my hand to Rebecca’s lower back. I guide her through the moving crowd to our table with my heart pounding a million miles a second, hopeful that Tessa is at the same one.
Why? Because the thought of her being near makes me downright wild.
