“I overheard you talking about it on the phone yesterday.”
The call from Athos.
“You overheard?”
“I was on the sofa in the sitting room.”
Crossing his arms, he peered at her. “I guess I should have gone into the bathroom to get some privacy when I took the call. Then again, when it comes to you, there’s no guarantee I would get it there either.”
She sighed. “I wasn’t looking to eavesdrop. I was sort of stuck there. You were already talking when you entered the room. Besides, I didn’t overhear something scandalous—something you’d have a good reason for keeping private.”
He resumed walking and she did likewise.
She shrugged. “You can ask, you know.”
“Ask what?”
“Ask me to come. I know it’s this upcoming weekend and we don’t have a race until the following weekend. I can swing it.”
He swallowed. Once introduced to his brothers, she would figure out he was the Man in the Iron Mask. Would it be so bad if she did? Was it a big deal? Not really, except that now that he’d kept it a secret this long, he’d made it into a big deal, or at the very least something embarrassing.
Besides, she was Ceci Rivers—team principal for Blue Jet Lightning. The woman his father and his brothers blamed along with Anker for that crash at Silverstone.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she demanded, her voice level rising.
“Not so loud. And what should I be saying?”
She glared at him. “I’m not speaking any louder than you.”
A woman shouted something in Spanish from a window above.
Clarke apologized, telling her in Spanish they would be quiet and on their way.
“What did you say to her?”
“I told her you suffer from a mental condition and are only let out of the institution once a month. I said I was just on the way now to return you.”
“What?!” she screamed.
He was just about to tell her he’d been kidding when someone else began shouting down at them. Clarke looked up to see a man standing beside the woman.
What he’d said was less than complimentary about Ceci.
She responded with a rude gesture and then yelled, “Tu cono huele a queso podrido!”
The woman gasped.
Clarke was horrified. “Do you know what you just said?”
“I told her that her cunt smelled like rotten cheese. I wanted to say Limburger. But I don’t know how to say Limburger in Spanish.”
“It’s the same in Spanish as it is in German—Limburger.”
“Oh.”
His heart was pounding. His fists clenched. “Why are you so loud?! Why must you always be so loud?!”
She stared back at him. Her lips didn’t move. But those eyes, those gray, stormy eyes were screaming at him.
