He glanced both ways along the corridor. We were completely alone. Then he leaned closer, planting his hand on the wall beside my face. My breath hitched. The scent of whisky on his breath was almost as strong as his designer cologne.
“You scrub up well, by the way,” I said, my voice wavering slightly. What was I doing?
“Hmm.” His gaze flickered down between us. “So do you.”
What the hell was happening here?
“Please stop digging.”
“Please? Are you begging me?” I couldn’t help the grin that split my face.
“I’m asking nicely,” he said, his voice almost a growl. He pressed himself against me, shifting his weight onto his whole forearm, not just his hand. His nose was almost touching mine.
Fuck.
“Why?” I asked, breathless.
“Because this is my life. And you’re inside my head. All the damn time, Archer. You’re a distraction.”
My pulse raced as fast as his car on the straights. He was going to kiss me. Oh my God. This was going to complicate things.
But instead, he pulled back and thumped the wall with the side of his fist before turning and stalking away. I watched him go, shaking and struggling to breathe.
Yes, this was definitely going to complicate things.
Aleksandr Volkov
I flung the door back into the party a little too wide, causing it to bang into a table. Heads swivelled in my direction, but I didn’t care. I stalked between clusters of people and scooped a glass of champagne off a passing tray before heading out through the sliding doors onto the terrace. Beyond the comfort of the air conditioning, the night air was oppressive. The music inside throbbed through the floor beneath me like a pulse. There were only a few people out here, looking out over the city and chatting quietly. They hardly spared me a glance.
Exhaustion was starting to pull at my sore muscles. It felt like weeks since I’d last slept soundly. I’d have to fix that before the next race or I could be in trouble.
But that woman—Elena—she was buried deep inside my thoughts, worming her way into everything. Why was I letting her affect me so much?
She was making me doubt my team, my boss, Mac. Mac had been like a father to me since I joined Obsidian and now I was struggling to trust him. Lack of trust in this business could be lethal.
I drained the champagne in one go, the fizz was bitter on my tongue.
Noise pulsed from inside the building—bass-heavy music, drunken laughter, the predictable cadence of meaningless celebration. I hated these things. Always had. Crowds of people pretending they cared, when the only thing that mattered was what happened on track.
And yet here I was. Obliged. Paraded.
I leaned on the railing, the city sprawled beneath me in glittering indifference. The heat clung to my skin. Sweat prickled at the collar of my shirt.
I could still feel her, like static under my skin. The sharpness of her stare. The nearness of her breath. The way her voice cut straight through me like a scalpel made of truth.
Elena was dangerous.
Not because she was wrong. But because she might be right.
I flexed my fingers around the stem of the empty glass.
Inside, someone called my name. Laughter followed. I didn’t turn. I didn’t care.
She was in my head. Turning over stones I’d sealed with concrete. I’d walked away from her tonight because I had to. Because if I didn’t, I might’ve done something reckless. Something stupid.
Something honest.
I shut my eyes for a second, just to centre myself.
