“I’m certain it will benefit all involved,” I tell her.
Éléanor and I have worked together in the past on nonprofit initiatives by the Federation. She’s fine, but she’s not my concern right now.
“If you’ll excuse me—” I stop when I pivot and once again come face to face with Max Ferreira. My top lip instantly curls when my gaze lands on him.
“Max, Dennis, what great timing.” Éléanor beams. “We were discussing the team’s new initiative. It would be wonderful if wecan get a meeting between all of you to set up some appearances during the season.”
“My assistant handles all of that,” I say.
Éléanor walks off after the other guys give her a similar reply.
“How was your break?” Dennis Rossberg asks since this is the first time he or I have talked tonight. Dennis drives for Douglass Racing. Overall, a decent guy, two years older than me.
“Too long,” I answer, ignoring Max. “Yours?”
While he answers, I do a scan of the room.
“Mine was lovely,” Max interjects in that grating English accent of his. I don’t think all British accents are annoying. Just his.
“Thank you for asking. Surprised to see you here tonight, Travis.”
“What’s so surprising about it?” I ask. “We all knew we’d be here.”
The grin playing on Max’s lips grows as he tilts his head to the side.
“I knew we would be in attendance.” He waves a hand between himself and Dennis. “But, frankly, I imagined you would still be licking your wounds somewhere.”
The way he emphasizes ‘wounds’ is what has me reaching out to grab his collar before I think better of it.
“Slow down.” Dennis steps in between Max and me.
Max’s eyes narrow on me, though he continues to hold the grin.
Bastard.
The line holding me back from calling him that word out loud is razor thin. And the one thing I know that would set him off.
No sooner than I suppress the urge to call him what he is, I spot movement out of the corner of my eye.
A flash of white, not nearly enough for me to know who it is, but my body reacts in a way that has already discerned who it is before I can lay eyes on her.
At a more opportune time, I’ll have to assess why and how my body and mind are already so attuned to this woman. A woman I only spent one damn night with.
But it wasn’t enough.
I tuck that thought away, as well, as I move away from Max and Dennis and follow Alyssia. Her back is to me as she holds out a silver tray containing glasses of champagne. Everything inside of me wants to take her by the arm, pull her into a dark corner, and demand to know why the hell she left me high and dry that morning.
This is the only reason why I’m so bent on getting alone time with her, I tell myself. Because I wasn’t done with her in Vegas, only to return to my room to find her gone.
Plus, focusing on her is the distraction I need from the rest of the guests. The fucking looks of pity or curiosity in their eyes is nearly enough to send me over the edge.
They all want to know how I’m going to respond after last season. I can see the questions in the way they watch me, but I ignore them all for now.
I’ll let my race times do the talking for me.
Instead of making small talk with a bunch of charity goers, I’ll look for the woman who captured my attention for one night in Vegas. One thing stopping me from being too obvious are the photographers.
There’re too many in here right now, taking candid and not-so-candid shots of the guests.
