“Just who?” I ask.
“I think you mean Just Jared,” Axel says to my father so quietly I almost don’t hear him.
Dad nods and then makes a flamboyant shooing motion with his hands. “Go. And do not mess this up, Gabriel.”
He hasn’t warned me like that since I was fourteen, and I’ve done a lot of shit that’s deserved a warning in my life since then. That’s how I know my dad has stopped with his version of gentle meddling and is in his full-metal meddling mode now. I stand perfectly still and let him pull me in to kiss both cheeks before he pats my shoulder and then turns and shakes Axel’s hand.
“Enzo, you’ll ride with me,” Louis tells my trainer.
Axel and I walk side-by-side, as awkwardly as two men can walk, to the waiting darkened SUV. Heat shimmies off the pavement around us. Vegas is the Devil’s armpit, I think, and wonder why of all the places they added this one to the calendar last year. Why not something somewhere that doesn’t make my skin damp in a way I can’t even pretend is dewy.
Once we’re in the back of the SUV and the driver is pulling away from the private airfield, Axel pulls up his phone and stares at it like it’s the secret meaning of life. Fine if he wants to ignore me, I can ignore him too. That lasts ten minutes. Then, because the gaudy scenery of obscenely large, shiny hotels and casinos outside is giving me a headache, I stare at him.
Merde, tension makes him attractive. His jaw muscle flexes absently and he occasionally rakes his teeth over his bottom lip as he scrolls on his phone. I fight the memory of how I once tugged on that plump lip with my own teeth. Just hours ago.
He must feel either the weight of my thoughts or my gaze, or both because his dark, brooding eyes flit up to meet mine. "What are you doing?"
“Looking at the menu for this restaurant we have to eat at tomorrow,” Axel replies. “They’re not big on greens.”
“Greens?”
“Yes. You know, vegetables. Lettuce. Salad.” He drops his phone into his lap as it pings, ignoring it. “I was hoping for a light dinner and an early night.”
“We’re in Vegas. A city built on sin and debauchery, and you were hoping for an early night and some salad?” I say, hoping he understands how utterly ridiculous that sounds when he hears it from someone else’s mouth.
He considers it but shrugs. “I’m not used to this schedule. We’re moving to another time zone before my body regulates to the one I’m in. Billy said it would be hard, but I didn’t believe him.”
Okay. I didn’t consider that. He’s right, the travel part of this can be grueling. Now I feel bad I didn’t consider that this was all so new and difficult for him. I take a few long slow breaths, searching for a way to lighten the mood and make him happy. Two things that seem to be polar opposite ideas. “I think they have a wedge salad. You can get it with a vinaigrette instead of blue cheese if you want to ruin a perfectly good salad made by a gifted chef.”
Something flickers across his face that resembles embarrassment. Not the good kind he gets when I’m propositioning him either. My humor isn’t funny to him. Fuck. “Sorry. That was bitchy. You don’t deserve bitchy.”
“It’s fine,” he says.
“When a woman says ‘it’s fine’ I’ve been told that it means my life is in imminent danger,” I reply and his eyes, which had moved to the window, quickly move back to me. “I don’t know if that’s the same with men. I’ve never dated one so I’m unclear.”
“You’re not dating one now.”
“No. I’m not in real life, but I am for People Magazine and Just Jacob,” I reply and that gets me the faintest, quickest flash of a smile. Enough of one that my own lips turn up and relief starts to loosen the tension in my shoulders. “And while I’m apologizing I would like to offer one for my behavior in the sauna. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“Pushed what?” Axel looks out the window again. “My buttons?”
“Yes. The sexual buttons,” I clarify as my fingers twist in my lap. “I like to go after what I want, and I feel this energy with you that makes me… well, feral. And so I push. But I apologize.”
“I kissed you, Gabe. Not the other way around.”
Something in me disregards his words because that regret is still bubbling in my gut. “I know my behavior makes it seem like I am, in fact, the type of guy who gropes women on planes without their consent. But I’m not. And I guess I just finally understand that I need to walk the walk and not just talk the talk.”
“You’resupposedto grope me," Axel replies. He shifts a little in his seat so his lean torso is twisted to face me. "And you need to if we're going to get people talking. So let's just… sell it. Hard."
“There are too many damn double entendres in this arrangement,” I mutter and for once, I’m the one blushing. Or at least I think I am. It’s been so long since I’ve blushed… wait a minute, have I ever blushed?
Axel laughs. It’s his first real, unbridled laugh around me. It’s a throaty sound with a rasp to it that makes my dick stir. The car stops in front of the Four Seasons, which is actually just the top half of Mandalay Bay. “I’ll make sure your bags make it to you immediately.”
I nod at the driver as Axel thanks him. A concierge is waiting at the front doors to greet us with a giant smile. Even before being a Formula One driver, this type of service was my life, but it’s clearly not Axel’s because he looks slightly uncomfortable as the concierge fawns over us and rambles on about amenities and guest services as she walks us to the elevators.
We chug up, alone in the metal box, both of us avoiding eye contact again. We’re not only staying on the same floor at this hotel, we’re in suites next to each other. Convenient. “So…” I clear my throat. “What are your plans tonight?”
“Eat. Sleep,” he grunts out and then yawns. “Please don’t dive head first into that sin and debauchery you say this town was built on. I don’t need a new scandal to fix in the morning.”
