Chapter 7
Fia
If anyone asked, Luca had persuaded us to come. Through the Hungarian airport, in the taxi, all he did was ramble on about how excited he was to be on ‘enemy soil’ and to see what a ‘Veltar’ party would be like.
To show his Ciclati loyalty, he wore emerald trousers and the shirt he’d worn to Nix and Livie’s wedding.
Everly had gone for the green dress.
The one I wore… and had been fucked in by one of the other guests.
Not that she needed to know that.
In the taxi, Luca was talking about the ‘Bond villain lair’ before he stopped himself and turned to Everly and me in the back. “Sorry,” he winced. “Bad joke. I forget he’s your dad—”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “You do not need to apologise. He’s little more than the villain in my story.”
But my fingers fidgeted with the hem of my silk dress.
“And you’re the Bond girl to Zoltán’s Bond?” he asked, a shit eating grin on his face.
Everly snorted, her attention on her phone.
“Whose side are you going to take when it becomes an all-out war? Ciclati or Veltar?”
“There’s only one clear choice,” Everly said, eyes on me.
I looked out the window, pausing deliberately to wind them up.
“Just think about your sister armed with cocktail sticks. Easy choice.”
“Not picking sides,” I told him. “And there will be no all-out war. You can make your subtle quips, but no liquid, food, or cocktail sticks go anywhere. My dress is too pretty for any mishaps.”
And my nagyi would be there.
I wanted her to look at me and be proud.
Looking out of the window, my smile grew at the thought of her. I was excited and nervous, trying to hide both. I rubbed my sweating palms into my shins, pretending to adjust my white heels.
I hadn’t seen my nagyi since I was eight.
When I had lighter hair and my smiles were carefree, and my favourite hobby was cooking gourmet mud pies in her garden.
Imre was my entire world then.
Back when seeing him was the most precious time of my life, even if I didn’t understand it then. How he’d cheated on mum. Lied. Ruined her finances.
Now I was dreading seeing him.
Would she even like me now? Would she blame me for avoiding Imre all these years? Would she lash out, talking about my mum?
That was something I hadn’t considered. If they spoke negatively about Mum, I was out.
Out where? I didn’t know, seeing as the three of us were staying at Imre’s house, our luggage sitting tight in the back of the taxi.
I’d have to grab my suitcase and walk miles down those beautiful country lanes…
Ever and Luca were strategising, considering their battle lines, planning their undercover operation.
While I took in the view.
We were in the South of Hungary, thick in acres of forest and far down winding country lanes that took us into another world of green. Vibrant. Luscious.
I rolled the window down to breathe the fresh, fragrant air, filling my lungs with a calming oxygen called Hungary.
I so rarely enjoyed the wild anymore.
All that calm vanished as we pulled onto a long, circular, gravel drive.
Luca wolf-whistled, and I choked on the humid air.
There had to be a mistake.
Imre was a mechanic at StormSprint. He wasn’t a millionaire.
Because this place was only aspirational for me.
Maybe he had a girlfriend who came from money. We sure didn’t.
The huge structure — light wood and grey, thick brick — was almost camouflaged by the forest life that climbed the brick pillars, stretching and dangling across the roof.
It was like a log cabin on steroids.
And the welcome? Three champagne towers stood along the stone pathway leading to the house, a suited worker next to each, standing pin-point straight, a tray in their hand.
This was not like the home I’d grown up in — a terraced house in the city, with a doorbell that didn’t work and a garage that permanently stank of diesel and a father with an oil stain on every t-shirt.
It was warm and welcoming, but not with the homely chaos I’d expected.
“Earth to Fia,” Ever said, and I looked up to see Luca holding the car door open for me and Everly bending with a concerned expression, a wrinkle between her brows. “Are you okay? We don’t need to stay.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. I had said I was coming. And I wasn’t one to break my promises.
Also… staying a room away from Zoltán with my door unlocked? That man was going to break down first.
And as Ever moved out of the way to let me up, her hand reaching out for mine, I saw him.
Standing at the door to that huge mansion, which even Nix would be impressed by, Zoltán’s smile grew.
And my heart—stupid thing—smiled right back.
He was in a suit. A blue colour with a dark purple tie, because of course.
Zoltán Farkas was entirely edible.
Maybe I would break first. Maybe I wouldn’t even give him the chance to shut his door before I dropped my dress on the guest room floor.
Oh god, I was going to break first.
I stood, straightened my dress, and, with my hand in Everly’s, we walked up the stone pathway, holding a champagne glass each and ignoring the shot glasses that surrounded the mostly untouched towers.
This was some wild party.
Classical music tinkled from the other side of the house, and even Ever nodded, humming along.
I’d only glanced at her to see if she could see the nervous energy in my body as we approached Zoltán. He was deep in conversation with someone from the team—one of those behind-the-scenes types I’d never clocked, but his eyes kept drifting back to me.
Up. And down.
“Why are they staring?” Everly asked, nudging me.
Luca stood tall. “They’re obviously intimidated by our Ciclati prowess.”
“Only you are Ciclati,” Ever said and rolled her eyes. “I’m technically every team.”
Luca shook his head. “You tell yourself that.”
Everly was right. We were getting a lot of looks — frowns, even mouths open. Maybe my sister and her boyfriend weren’t as welcome as Imre had promised.
My sister downed her glass as we walked past the second champagne tower, swapping it out for a new one. She smiled acidly at the group of women looking at us with distaste, her eyes bright at the conflict.
“So welcoming,” she beamed.
Luca wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “Save your battle armour for the big guns. Not the little old ladies.”
She sighed and lay her head on his chest.
My hand slipped from hers.
Zoltán walked towards me — us — with his hands in his pockets like he was the one who owned the place. “Hey, player,” he said, like we were alone.
I had not been playing hard to get.
“Hey, loser,” I said, trying to hold back my smile.
“I’m going to be the one losing the game tonight, huh?” he frowned as if he was surprised. “Someone’s confident.”
“In this dress? Yes.”
Behind me, Luca said, “They’re flirting, right?”
Everly groaned and, leading Luca, marched towards the house, vanishing behind Zoltán’s large frame.
His expression changed when she left. Had he recognised the dress she was wearing?
“I didn’t… I didn’t expect you to show up in white,” he said, his brows low.
I didn’t care what he thought of my outfit, even if that stung a little.
“It’s purple too,” I said, running a hand down the silk. It was white with purple violets. “Go Veltar!”
But my excitement fell flat at his worried expression.
“Do you not like it?” I asked with an awkward echo of laughter.
“No,” he said quickly. “I love it. I just…”
“It’s probably the nicest thing you’ve seen me in?”
“You’d make a bin bag look like a ball gown.”
I couldn’t stop my blush for love or money.
This was my team for the rest of the year. Livie said she would pay me once the placement was done, but I was here for him until the end of the championship.
All of my friends were loved-up, happy, starting families, and… if my job was going to be about Zoltán, I might as well jump straight into the whole thing and enjoy it while it lasted.
But condoms.
And no emotional attachment.
Everly’s mantra rang in my head more often than my constant morning alarms.
“And as much as I love this dress on you—” He inhaled as he looked at my cleavage. “I can’t wait to tear it off when you sneak past my unlocked door.”
“Oh?” I asked and started to walk closer to the house, him hot on my heels. I kept my voice low, my words over my shoulder. We were in Hungary. The language wasn’t our secret anymore. “You wouldn’t need to tear it off, actually. Because this doesn’t really go with underwear.”
It was a maxi-dress and a humid day with little wind, so I’d been the daredevil I always wanted to be.
He stopped behind me.
“Something wrong?”
His lips parted as he stared at my ass. “No. Baszki.” Fuck.
Shrugging, I took his wrist and tugged him behind one of the brick pillars at the front of the house. I traced a light finger down his thick neck. “You could bend me over, and I’d be ready for you, Mr. Farkas. You wouldn’t have to strip me bare at all.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed under my touch. “Here? Now?”
“Want to know what I’m thinking?”
He nodded eagerly, still shaken. I wondered if he was capable of thoughts.
“You think I’m easy, don’t you, Zoltán Farkas?”
His eyes narrowed, but I didn’t give him the chance to confirm or deny.
“And tonight, when you come crawling through my unlocked door, you’ll have such a night you’ll never forget it. You will beg. And if you want me again or if you want me to text you, you’ll have to take me on a very public date.”
Not a clifftop. Or his bed.
He stepped me back into the pillar with a dark expression, brows low, fingers running gently down my forearm.
But I wasn’t scared — not because we were in public, but because it was him.
And that unhinged glint in his eye?
Another point to me.
“Pack your bags for two days.”
“What?”
So he said it in English, “Pack. Two day.”
Why was it cute that he shifted languages when he thought I didn’t understand? Cute was not an adjective to call him. Dangerous. Hot. Those would do.