When it came to racing, he did know. All too well. And he was beginning to suspect it was true off the track as well.
“I think that’s when she started paying him back. Her birthday parties became more … well … wild … even destructive.” Aunt Delilah grinned. “The money he had to pay in damages—serves him right. I guess I just always wanted to make up for the fact that she had no family—other than me, of course. It’s too bad about her twin brother.”
“Cecilia has a twin brother?”
“Had. He died.”
Clarke wondered how. But didn’t feel right asking.
Suddenly he noticed Aunt Delilah had been inching closer to the group and taking him along with her. They were close enough now for Clarke to hear their conversation.
“So,” one of the men said, “Hank, it’s really true then you’re getting together an F2 team.”
“Yep.”
“Thinking maybe about your daughter here,” one of them said, smiling at Ceci. “Of course, that’d be a huge loss for Blue Jet.”
Hardly a beat of silence passed. One might almost wonder if he’d heard the man. His jaw looked like granite and his eyes, which didn’t appear to be looking at anything, were just as hard.
Another one turned to Ceci. “You ever think of going back to driving?”
Ceci shrugged. “If I did make the move, I’m smart enough to know not to race for one of my father’s teams. We both know how well that went in the past. I’m not easy to manage. Not that an owner should be managing a driver.” She turned and fixed an icy stare on her father. This finally caught her father’s attention, and his look was even colder than hers. “But you would try, wouldn’t you, Pops?” Ceci’s tone was unmistakably snide.
Clarke blinked when Anker suddenly appeared by Ceci’s side.
“Don’t even think of stealing my team principal, Hank. I need her.”
Laughing, Hank reached around the man standing next to him and patted Anker’s shoulder. “That’s not true. You’re a winner, and you’ll win no matter who’s the team principal. I think you’re going to do it again this year.”
Ceci’s eyes were blazing; she looked like she was about to say something, but her father spoke before she got the chance.
“Come over here, Anker,” he said, pulling his son along with him and disengaging from the group. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Someone who wants to meet you.”
Aunt Delilah squeezed Clarke’s arm. “Just because bone china is difficult to break doesn’t mean it can’t break.”
Clarke’s lips parted, but only the hush of his breathing came out.
He turned his gaze back on Ceci, and his mind flashed back to last night.
That voice. I can hear it now.
It not only hurt—it hurt in a way that was all too familiar to him. It was the voice of a girl being broken by the act of a callous man.
But then, Naomi wasn’t nearly as tough as Ceci. Not even close.
He watched as a man sidled up and slipped his arm around her waist. He blinked when he realized who the man was.
What the fuck is he doing here?
His heart began to pound as if it had escaped his rib cage. He felt it throbbing in his throat, in his ears, in his temples, in his hands, which he clenched.
“Well, now this is interesting,” Aunt Delilah said. “I mean, given you’re the one who’s dating her.” She paused. “In theory.”
“Sir Leo Clarke,” a woman crooned, as she placed her hand on his arm. “I’m Tiffany.”
He heard Aunt Delilah groan.
The woman was blonde with lashes that looked like black daggers and lips that resembled that of a blowfish. “How nice of you to come to Timmy’s birthday party. Hank will be so pleased.”
