I hated that I could pick it out so easily.
She looked… tired. The kind of tired that went deeper than lack of sleep. Her eyes didn’t scan the room much. They stayed locked on whoever was speaking, or her glass, or the middledistance where thoughts lived. And when she caught someone looking, she smiled like she meant it.
She hadn’t looked at me once.
Good. She shouldn’t.
I’d spent the last three days pretending I didn’t feel like my skull was full of bees. I’d barely spoken to Mac. Ross was circling like a hawk, waiting for another excuse to twist the knife. And Suzuka? A fucking disaster.
Because of her.
Because of me.
I couldn’t decide which.
The kiss had been a mistake. I knew that. Knew it the moment my mouth left hers and the guilt crashed in. But it hadn’t felt like a mistake in the moment. It had felt like truth. Hot, wild, unspoken truth.
And that terrified me more than anything Ross could threaten me with.
“Mate,” Oliver said, elbowing me. “You alright?”
I blinked. “Fine.”
He gave me a look. The kind that said ‘you’re full of shit’ without needing to say it out loud.
Across the joined tables, Jax was still holding court. Hale tossed in the occasional punchline. Ren sat with his arms crossed but his eyes smiling. The press pack were looser now, the tension from dinner dissolving into alcohol and anecdote.
And Elena?
Still smiling at the wrong man.
Jamie Kavanagh leaned in close to whisper something, and she laughed—soft, unguarded. It twisted in my gut like a blade. Not jealousy. Not exactly. I knew Kavanagh wasn’t a threat. He was too obvious. Too polished. Too safe.
But I still wanted to shove him off his stool.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I took another sip of beer and leaned back, forcing myself to look away. Oliver was telling some story about a track walk in Monaco that ended with him getting locked in a public toilet. Everyone laughed.
I didn’t.
Because all I could think about was Elena in that spotlight. Her body against mine. The heat. The fire. The fury. The way she’d looked at me—like I was both the answer and the problem.
And now she wouldn’t even look at me.
Good.
Let her keep her distance. Let her write her story, burn down my team, do whatever the hell she came here to do.
I didn’t need her.
I didn’t want her.
But I watched her anyway.
Because not wanting something doesn’t make it go away.
Especially when it’s sitting three feet from you, pretending not to burn.
