Page 77 of Off the Grid

Harlan meets my gaze and doesn’t blanche. “I’m asking you what I asked you. In F2, you pushed the envelope in situations when others wouldn’t. You took risks and those risks can have consequences for every other person on the track.”

“Uncool, man,” Cruz says under his breath. Only those on the stage can hear it.

“And those risks got me where I am today.” My smile is a fuck you with love to him. “If you want to make comparisons, make them. But don’t hold back my potential because of something my father did. I have enough ghosts to face when I’m on the track that I don’t need you adding more to the pile. Look at each race as they happen. Judge me on those, and I won’t judge you by the loaded questions you’ve asked in the past and the smear campaign you continue to wage without just cause.”

When I set the microphone down and look over at Anya, the look on her face this time around is puffed cheeks and raised brows.

Guess she’ll have to clean that one up.

Or I just place higher than last time and shut them up.

My money’s on that.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Camilla

“I know. I’m a busy bitch, but I can’t,” I say as I push the door open and leave the office.

“Can’t or won’t?” Isabella asks.

How about both?

“Can’t. I have a sponsorship event tonight. I have to go impress bigwigs.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder and start across the parking lot toward my car.

“You are a bigwig and you’re bluffing.” She tsks. “I know you too well.”

“Let’s shoot for when I get back from the next race. I’ll do drinks with him then,” I say with no intention of doing drinks with anybody, let alone a blind date she picks for me.

“No, you won’t. But I’ll badger you. Then cajole you. Then stalk you from afar to make sure you show up.”

“Perfect. I don’t expect any less.”

“Later, Cam. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Dodged that bullet. Let’s hope I can keep dodging it.

And just as I drop my phone in my tote I hear, “Hey, Moretti?”

Footsteps fall heavily behind me as Riggs jogs after me. As much as I want to keep walking, I stop and turn to look at him.

Jesus. The man knows how to wear a pair of jeans.

And when I see the jeans, I think of my dream. Of the perfect V of muscles they’re covering. Of his cock springing free.

And this—your ridiculous fantasy—is why you’ve been avoiding him every chance you can.

“Hey,” I say and smile. “What’s up?”

He slows to a stop in front of me, his grin lighting up his face. “You’re everywhere and nowhere. I just wanted to say hi. See how you were doing.”

I eye him. What is going on? My cheeks stain pink as my mind goes to crazy places—like there’s no way he could know about my dream.

“Good,” I say cautiously.