Patrón’s brand ambassador’s probably out too, then. I need someone closer. Someone outside the team’s corporate machine, but who Tom would want to speak to. Someone above the rules.
Raucous laughter makes me look over, and I’ve immediately found my guy.
Chapter 7
TIAGO
‘Don’t tell Isa,’ JC whispers once I’ve excused myself to get a drink, ‘but that British Instagrammer’s here. Matter of fact, she was just staring at you.’
I glance around. ‘Where?’
He gestures toward a woman in a dark green dress talking to a smaller woman in a hijab.‘Allá está.’
Her brunette hair’s tied up with curly bits hanging down at the front. Her face is so perfect, so symmetrical, she looks AI generated. Trey was right about the impressive rack, but there’s not much else to grab onto. I’m used to more – a whole lot more – especially in the back. I want it holding jeans in a chokehold. I want it spilling out of my hands. I want it?—
Holy shit do I need to get laid.
Even though she’s not exactly my type, I wouldn’t say no. She hasn’t chosen her man yet if Isa’s Google Alerts are accurate. I wasn’t joking when I said it could be me. I’m an F1 driver the same as any other. Plus I’m one of the best-looking ones (not that the competition’s fierce). Jack’s objectively hot and Kurt has a crazy six pack, but my first language is Spanish, so that gives me an extra ten points off the bat.
Think of what being part of this year’s ultimate power couple could do for me. No more P18. No more kissing executives’ asses. No more fake gratitude for the worst weekend of my career.
‘Isa will lose her shit,’ JC says, adjusting his cuffs so they sit evenly under his jacket, with just enough skin showing to glimpse his tattoos. The idiot thinks he’s Maluma.
A hand slides down my bicep. ‘Hi, Tiago.’ She’s a model type, maybe an influencer. The way her nails are digging lightly into my skin makes my poor monkish dick jolt. ‘Wanna dance?’
‘I—’
‘Nope!’ Isa barrels between us carrying two mojitos and a Diet Coke. ‘He does not. Thank you, next.’
Violet. My balls are now violet.
I’ve been so well behaved tonight. I’ve talked to everyone JC asked me to; I’m drinking soda; I haven’t flirted withanyone. And how am I rewarded?
I’ve muted my messages. I’ve ignored my DMs. I haven’t set foot in a club. And I can’t even dance at a work event now?
‘Cock blocker,’ I growl as I take the Diet Coke.
‘I’m saving you a trip to the confessional.’ Her smile’s sarcastic and fleeting.
My eyes follow the model and her lusciously overflowing hips as they sink into the crowd. ‘God would understand.’
Isa cringes at how strong her drink is. I miss strong drinks. Hell, I miss drinks that don’t have straws floating in them. All these nights in watching TV are killing me. I’m from the Colombian Caribbean; salsa literally flows through my veins.
‘How’s the schmoozing going?’ Isa enquires.
I huff around said straw. ‘I think I’ve spoken to every single board member here tonight.’
‘Excellent.’
‘He’s been very charming,’ JC says, trying to move all the fruit and foliage in his mojito so he can drink it. ‘Let’s go to the execs from Fifth Base next. They’re a quintessential American brand and they sponsor Leone. I want them to pick you for their next ad campaign. It’s a great fit.’
I pout. ‘They’re so small fry, and their hats look stupid.’
Isa seizes my arm and inhales like she’s stepped on Lego. I don’t have to turn around, I know exactly what she’s seen.
‘She’s here.’It’s barely audible.
It’s JC’s turn to pout. ‘Call me when Isa’s got her shit back together. I’ll go introduce myself to the guys from CamStar.’
