The door opened after a moment, and Henri stood there looking startled.
“Lily?”His voice was rough, confused.His eyes searched my face, taking in my disheveled appearance, the fury that must’ve been written all over me.“What are you—”
I shoved the note against him before I could lose my nerve.The paper crumpled between us.He just stared at me, then down at what I had shoved into his hand, then back at me.
“What is this?”He shook his head, confusion and concern warring on his face.
“Just fucking read it,” I snapped.
Chapter Thirteen
Henri
He was supposed to win.
I read it once, then again, because the words refused to make sense the first time.
“Where did this come from?”
“My room,” she said bitterly.“It was waiting by the door when I got back from the podium.Lucky me.”
I stared at her, the noise of the city suddenly gone, the only sound her heavy breathing.
“And you called security, yes?”I already knew the answer, but the small shake of her head confirmed it.
Her frown was set in that stubborn line I’d come to recognize over the years—the one that meant she’d already made up her mind and wasn’t about to be swayed by logic or reason.“I came here instead.”
Of course she had, because Lily Blackwood didn’t do things the sensible way.Stepping aside, I gestured her in.The wooden door clicked shut, sealing the two of us inside the quiet.
“Lily, you need to tell—”
A loud groan from her cut me off mid-sentence.
“Out of the question.”She snatched the paper out of my hand, cursing under her breath as her fists clenched around it.“I didn’t come here for pity, Dubois.I came because I wantanswers.I want to know what happened to you during the race, because”—she waved the paper in the air, her voice rising—“whoever this is?They’re right.You weresupposedto win.”
Her boots scuffed the carpet as she took two angry steps toward me.“You don’t flinch, Henri, but there you were in the hairpin, driving like…” She didn’t finish that thought.“What is going on with you?”Her eyes burned into mine, daring me to look away.
“Nothing.”Even as the word left my mouth, I hated the sound of it, too fast and defensive.
“Oh, right.Because everything’sfine,” she fired back.“And yet, you somehow happened to forget how to drive in Monaco?You basically let me pass inMonaco.That’s not like you.”
“I had a bad race.”An understatement.
My hotel room suddenly felt suffocating, the walls pressing in, too small to contain both her relentless determination and my carefully guarded secrets.
“I’m not buying it, Henri.”She stepped closer—close enough that I could see the faint tremor in her hands and the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes as she watched me.
I opened my mouth to argue, to say something clever or cruel, but nothing came out.Just the light whisper of my own breathing.Her voice had none of the pressroom polish she usually carried.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Lily didn’t flinch.Didn’t back down.
“Try me.”The way she said it, steady, relentless, hit harder than yelling.I wanted to shout, to throw her out like she’d done to me in Montreal.To tell her to mind her own business and go celebrate her victory and leave me alone to wallow in my defeat.
I took a seat on the couch, letting my head rest in my hands.Forget losing Monaco earlier today—thiswas what defeat felt like.
“I see it every time.”
