Chapter 3
Zoltán
I’d been on edge all day, waiting for a glimpse of her after weeks.
Listening. Watching. Hating the way the anticipation made my skin itch.
It was the first qualifying day of the championship. Press would be here.
Which meant she would be here.
I’d expected to be bricking it over my first real race since the crash that had nearly ended my career, but all I could think about was her.
Her wit. Strength. Her unyielding sense of self.
The pit box was decked out in my new team colours: purple and black. Veltar.
She would be too.
I’d told her to.
The pit box was a rush of mechanics and the team readying the bike while I sat there, headphones in, sipping my water. I necked two pills and drowned everyone out.
The sugary energy drinks I was contracted to advertise were disgusting, but I eyed them in the glass fridge beside my bike.
I hated the artificial flavourings. I lived for real highs.
But I hadn’t been sleeping. I’d wake in the middle of the night, the memory of her body burned into my hands, my cock aching from the nights I’d spent finishing in my fist.
The way she’d wrapped her thighs around me, and moaned my name. How I’d fucked her three times that night, dragging my tongue over her body, begging for a fourth, my cock rock hard.
Her wrecked, half-asleep voice telling me I could fuck her awake in the night.
I nearly bit into her pale skin, dry-humping her because I knew she had to be sore.
It was the only thing that stopped me from drilling into her again.
Her wanting me to have my way with her while she was unconscious? Offering herself to me? I’d known there was something about her for me to become lust-crazed. Watching her sleep naked in my bed, kissing her neck, and dancing my fingers up her side was gentle.
Which I was not.
Letting her stay the night made me seem thoughtful and caring.
Which I was not.
Planning to make her breakfast as I watched her sleep, curling myself around her satiated body, made it seem like I was in love.
Which would be catastrophic.
But I’d never fucked someone with such stamina.
No one had deserved my attention as she did.
Women would pretend to be exhausted after our sessions, but none had deserved their sleep as much as Zsófia.
She’d worked my cock, bouncing on top of me, taking me so well, threatening me that I couldn’t come until we were sweating bodies, only capable of swallowing each other’s air.
She really wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was witty and funny. The most intelligent person I’d met. How she flitted from language to language? That warmed my entire body, stiffened my cock, and made me smile.
Shortly, it would all crumble in front of me.
She’d hate me.
For the fifth time that day, I went onto her social media. She hadn’t followed me back. Maybe she wanted distance. Control. I’d break that. One step at a time.
No posts. Nothing suggested she was in the paddock.
So I scrolled through her last few photos again. She was in a bikini by a pool, her sister grinning at her side; a seaside sunset, and a little blonde girl sitting on her lap as they sat in a restaurant.
My thumb swiped down a few months to that boy who used to litter her posts with his annoying face.
Fia was four years younger than me, so it made sense that her ex was too. But he looked weak. Unworthy.
He was British. Soft. Boring.
When she’d put a geolocation of London on her story a few days ago, I hated the thought of her meeting up with him. Them being in the same city.
He’s so hot, I struggle to speak about him.
Fuck no.
So I did what any sane man would.
I made a fake account and stalked the bastard. He only posted the gym and a couple of pictures of himself in scrubs.
Is that what she liked? I could post weights and have my friends record me lifting.
Even if I thought it was pathetic.
I’d never done this before. Sure, I’d had a girlfriend. And since that had ended — and I’d recovered from the crash — women flocked to me in clubs. We got what we needed from each other and moved on.
But my brain was stuck on her. Obsessed with her.
I was still scrolling when boots appeared beneath my phone. I locked my phone, but it was too late.
“Zsófia?” My brother and manager, Benedek, stood over me. “She not here?”
I shook my head, trying to be casual about it.
She was fiery, I didn’t want to contemplate that she might have asked to work for another team — another racer — because of what had happened between us.
“She pretty?”
I took a slow sip of water. “She’s not what I expected.”
“Not what Imre said about her?” He nodded in the direction of my mechanic. “I guess they don’t really speak.”
“I thought she’d be sweet and spoiled. A Ciclati girl.” She had been wearing that seductive green dress, but… her loyalty had been to my cock that night.
“Yeah, well, Imre’s going to be biased about how she’s raised, isn’t he? Seeing as he had minimal involvement.”
Despite being her biological dad.
I liked Imre, but that pissed me off.
Benedek looked at my phone. “What was it like meeting her?”
“She’s just a girl,” I sighed.
But I was still thinking of how she’d looked under the helmet. That green dress she’d worn to torment me. Her body flooded by my jacket. Her lips puffy from kissing me. Her thighs shaking around me. Her words annihilating me.
No, she was not just a girl.
The room shifted, a ripple from the door as people formed a path, moving out of the way.
And I knew it was her without seeing.
The men in the pit box were taller than her, but all of their heads lowered, every set of eyes on her.
They dispersed, and I finally saw her, walking in like she owned the place, even if her eyes flickered across the room as if looking for someone.
She wore my colours.
A purple Lycra jacket zipped up so my logo was held tight above her heart. Her hair was up, and sunglasses were perched on top of her head. She looked comfortable, as if she’d been working here for years.
But as her gaze swept my way — not even snagging on me — I noticed her energy from last week was lacking.
The spark I’d fucked out of her hadn’t returned.
Or something had happened. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there in how she clutched the earpiece in her hand.
The hesitancy in how she looked around the room.
She wasn’t looking for me.
It was as if she didn’t know who I was or recall the way I’d made her scream. On a clifftop. Against my bike. With a Portuguese sunset as our backdrop.
And there I was, bushy-eyed, that she was wearing my colours.
Zsófia froze, the earpiece dropping from her hand.
The media intern kept on talking behind her, pointing out different members of the team, but her attention was on one man.
Imre. Her father.
He’d been expecting it. I’d told him she was joining our new team, but he stood, lips parted as if he wanted to speak to her, his folded arms falling from the StormSprint polo he wore.
She was stiff as she turned, like she was about to walk out, but she stopped. Her shoulders were rigid, her fingers trembling — just barely.
I was already moving towards her.
They didn’t get on, but I wasn’t aware of what would cause this reaction.
It made me uneasy, ready to question Imre.
She looked down at me as I crouched to get her earpiece. “Thanks.”
I nodded and placed it in her hand, fighting the impulse to brush a stray strand of hair behind her pierced ears. I hadn’t noticed all the different jewellery climbing up the ears I’d grunted in.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
She nodded and stood straight. “Yes. I will be.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted. I wanted the truth in whatever raw form Zsófia was willing to give me.
My brother stepped out from behind me. “Zsófia, it’s nice to meet you.” He took her hand even though her attention was back on her father, who still seemed stunned. “I’m Benedek, Zolt’s brother and manager.”
“Nice to…” she started in English, then shook her head, carrying on with an awkward smile. “It’s a pleasure, Benedek.”
I hated his touch on her.
We looked alike. He had the same thick brows as I, the same harsh jaw and quick retort. His skin tone was a shade or two lighter.
Maybe she’d find him more attractive. Less dangerous.
She pulled her hand back and said, “I need a minute.”
And she left. I went to follow, but Benedek pulled me back. “God, what do you think he did?” he laughed. “For her to hate him so much.”
I shrugged and went to go again, but he stood before me, frowning. “Don’t get involved in the family drama. We’ve paid enough for you to be here. Focus.”
“She’s upset,” I snapped. She looked far from the woman who threatened my sanity with a simple smirk, and I hated it — it didn’t matter what he’d done. It mattered that she hated him.
“Her sister works here. Let her mop up her tantrum tears. You’ve got to qualify. Pole position.”
Our bell rang, signalling it was my time to do just that.
But my mind was elsewhere as I lapped the track. It wasn’t hard lately.
Her expression replayed in my mind; not her free expression as she came, not the way her lips parted to form a perfect ‘o.’ Not the mischievous grin when she thought she had one-upped me.
The hurt in her wide eyes.