Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
?? MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA
A va knew that Rowan was an infuriating and unnerving man. A man with a mask he held onto so it wouldn’t slip away or break, yet managed to offer a glimpse of the person behind that fa?ade she had once despised.
She was so used to Rowan closing himself off. Was used to dealing with his mood changes.
But for the very first time, she was still lingering in the past and thinking of the way his features had dropped; how his jaw had tightened, and his eyes had shifted to ice because of the mention of his family. Most of all, she hated how she had made a fool of herself by simply wanting to be nice, and kind, and caring.
She didn’t care about Rowan. Didn’t want to let what happened a few days ago affect her. Wouldn’t let him ruin her.
They had gone back to mainly ignoring each other if they were in the same room, occasionally firing a comment at the other and receiving equal banter in response.
But, whenever they were left alone—walking to the media pen, driving to the circuit (although with Tate in the back seat, always pretending not to be there), waiting in silence in his driver’s room as he would warm up for free practice and she’d be occupied on her laptop—it was evident that Rowan wanted to talk to her.
She was waiting for his apology. For an explanation as to why he always needed to shut himself off. Ava was certain he was hiding something golden, beautiful, and rare beneath the tough surface he put on display.
Her train of thought was interrupted when an engine revving inside the garage roared to life.
She blinked, adjusted the set of headphones on her ears, and diverted her gaze to the TV screen that showed that Q3 had started. She watched as a member of Rowan’s pit crew gestured for him to drive out, and his car bolted into the pit lane.
“Don’t you dare fuck this up,” she heard from behind.
Ava didn’t turn around, but she knew exactly who had uttered those words.
Stephen Emerson wasn’t exactly her favourite guest to attend the race weekend. Despite him being Rowan’s father, she had always thought he was egoistic and downright rude. Walked the paddock like he owned it when he was a nobody in the racing world. Looked down at people from a pedestal where he didn’t belong.
Ava knew very little about Rowan’s family and his life when he still lived in Australia, but she knew his parents were divorced. Still, the whole family would reunite at the Australian Grand Prix to support Rowan.
Ava was sitting next to Rowan’s mother, Julia, and his older sister, Riley.Stephen hadn’t approached or talked to his ex-wife and daughter as though he was avoiding them, and kept standing at the back of the garage.
Ava inhaled deeply and focused on Rowan as he finished doing his outlap.
He had struggled during FP1 because of the bumpy and slippery circuit, but rapidly improved in FP2 and FP3 when the track finally rubbered in after each progressing session. Ava believed he could make it in the top three finishers for qualifying.
Albert Park Circuit was one of Ava’s favourite tracks, not only for its beautiful and unique scenery as the track went around a large lake,but also because it was one of the fastest circuits on the calendar.
Keeping her focus on the TV screen, she watched the red car bolt through the racetrack. Rowan had set the fastest lap time on the first segment of the track, rendering his sector purple. Like every qualifying session, her heart was thundering erratically because of the anticipation.
Through the camera attached above the engine, she could see the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as he held clean control over his speed and the vehicle.
His sector two was purple, too.
There were less than forty seconds left before the end of Q3.
At the bottom of the screen, Thiago’s time was also being monitored. Though all three of his sectors were green—indicating this lap time was his personal best—his lap time was the fastest of all ten drivers. He finished his lap before Rowan and secured provisional pole, eliciting a few claps of encouragement in the garage. Even if this was Rowan’s garage, Primavera Racing was a family.
Rowan raced through the last turn, and just as he hit the apex of the corner, he lost control over the rear and slipped slightly, causing him to struggle to accelerate towards the finish line and lose time.
Passing the chequered flag, Rowan qualified second.
Ava watched the way his fingers tightened around the railing as he listened to the journalist’s question.
The tattoos.
The rings.
The veins.
Holding a recorder next to his mouth, she had a hand tucked in the pocket of her skirt whilst she did everything but look at his defined jaw and the tick in its muscle every time he clenched it. Obviously, he was disappointed with his qualifying results, and Ava knew he was too hard on himself at times. Knew he was a perfectionist, and that he’d secretly beat himself up for not attaining his expectations as well as the world’s.
“I lost the rear after the last corner,” he explained, “and that cost me the pole position.”
“There’s only five-hundredths of a second between your lap time and Thiago’s,” the journalist pointed out, impressed.
“Yeah.” Rowan smiled faintly. “I’m happy for him. He’s had a great weekend so far, but I’ll do everything I can to win tomorrow.”
“Can we expect a shoey from both Primavera drivers?”
His grin was all mischief when Ava looked up. “Oh, of course, baby.”
The reporter thanked him for his time and Rowan turned on his heel. His shoulder brushed against Ava’s, and despite having her gaze locked to the ground, she managed to catch the glance he threw her way before marching towards the motorhome.
Ava cleared her throat as she pocketed the recorder. “Want some water?”
Rowan slowed down and waited for her to catch up. A smirk touched his lips as he nodded, grabbing the water bottle she had tucked under her arm during the interview.
He uncapped the bottle. “You finally understood this was my favourite brand of water.”
Ava rolled her eyes. “You’ve been taunting me for weeks about giving you disgusting water, so how could I keep on continuing to treat His Majesty like this?”
With a snort, he bumped his shoulder into hers as they walked up the small stairs leading into the hospitality centre. “Admit it, you’ve been trying to poison me.”
Lifting her shoulders nonchalantly, she peered up at him, only to find him already looking at her. “You caught me.”
“I knew it,” he huffed. “I knew you hated me.”
“I know the feeling is mutual.”
They walked towards his room, the echo of their footsteps blending in with the chatter reverberating around the place.
“I don’t hate you,” he said quietly. Lowly. Hoarsely. “Don’t think I ever have.”
Ava stilled, unable to look at him. But when he came to step before her, she was forced to find his honey gaze, like a magnet searching for its other half. “What?”
Rowan’s gaze was promising utter destruction, yet there was a softness caressing the edges of his irises when he roamed his stare over her face. A soft scoff erupted. “How could anyone ever hate you, Avery?”
Rowan had rendered her speechless. Had caused her heartbeat to come to a halt before going back to thumping wildly. Had made her eyes widen in shock.
She hadn’t expected this from him—ever.
“Listen,” he started, “I wanted to apologise for what I said the other day at the beach—”
“Rowan,” an angry voice interrupted from his room when the door opened. “Get your disappointing ass in here.”
Chills skittered down Ava’s spine at the sound of Stephen Emerson’s voice. Taking a step back, she looked over to the room where the man stood, his gaze on his son, features hard with burning anger.
Rowan’s sigh was audible. Clenching his jaw, he dipped his chin in a nod before turning to enter his room without sparing Ava a second glance.
Just as she started walking away, words resonating from the other side of the door forced her to stop.
“You imbecile kid. Not even capable of taking pole at his home Grand Prix. Did I raise you like this? Did I sacrifice everything for you to embarrass me? When are you going to realise you’re a failure, Rowan? You’ve been in F1 for years and not once have you won a championship.”
Ava’s chest tightened with every syllable coming out of Stephen’s mouth. Her heart cracked at every harsh word slapping Rowan’s soul.
She knew she needed to walk away, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
When Rowan’s voice didn’t come through, she could only imagine his face, his reaction: the curl of his fingers, the tremble in his hands, the flex in his jaw, the raw sadness in his eyes.
Ava leaned against the wall, trying to calm the deafening drum of her heart.
“I don’t have the energy to do this today, Stephen.”
Stephen .
The fact Rowan called his father by his first name told Ava everything she needed to know about their relationship.
God, the way his voice was strained. Exhausted.
Stephen’s punishing tone made her blood boil. “So when, hm? When are you going to stop being an embarrassment to the Emerson name?”
Rowan didn’t respond.
But his voice came through after a moment, and it was woven with vexation. “If you’re so fucking ashamed of being my father, why are you here?”
“Because after all this time, I thought I could come and support you and finally be proud of your achievements, but I was wrong. You’re a total failure.”
“A failure?” Rowan’s voice rose slightly, causing Ava to frown. She’d never heard him angry outside of racing. Had never seen him so outraged. He was a loud man, mostly when happy, but he rarely showed negative emotions. “I qualified second. I’m working my ass off to improve every day. I don’t care what you think because I’m happy with my results.”
“You set the bar so low,” Stephen bit out. “I didn’t raise you like this.”
“You didn’t raise me at all,” Rowan fired back.
“Watch your tone,” his father seethed. “I paid for everything you had ever asked for. Everything.”
“Oh right, because your damn money can make up for all your fucking mistakes? What are you going to do if I don’t win the race? Walk out of my life again? Disinherit me? Go ahead. I’ve been making my own money for a decade—”
A sharp sound echoed, cutting Rowan mid-sentence.
Ava’s heart ceased to beat at the same moment.
She swallowed thickly, feeling unwanted tears well in her eyes. Her mind was clouded, but not enough for her to stay put and do nothing.
Ava knew this was a battle she couldn’t win, yet she still walked through the combat zone with her chin held high and a sudden urge to protect a man she supposedly loathed.
Knocking on the door, she blinked to make the burning feeling in her eyes go away. Sucking a deep breath in, she waited for the door to open. When it finally did a second later, Stephen stormed out of the room without glancing behind his shoulder.
“You’re wasting your time with him, girl,” Stephen muttered as he passed by her.
But Ava didn’t acknowledge the remark. Didn’t react. All she could do was look at Rowan, whose back was turned to her as he leaned against a wall, his forehead against it. His trembling hand was curled into a fist above his head, and his chest was rising and falling with every tremulous breath he took and released.
And then he hit the wall. Hard. Once. Twice. Three times.
Ava reared back, her heart somersaulting in tandem.
“Fuck,” he whispered angrily, clenching and unclenching his fingers.
His upper body heaved again, and he passed his fingers through his hair with the unscathed hand.
Ava took a step forward.
“Avery,” he called out, voice cracking. “Leave.”
Ava looked down. Darted her gaze again towards his body still clad in his racing suit, its upper part hanging around his hips. His angry, ragged breathing resonated loudly.
“No.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“My answer won’t change.”
“Avery.”
“Rowan.”
She watched him pivot, his handsome face now stricken with a form of vulnerability she’d never witnessed in him, his eyes so cold and sad, void of any sparks of joy. The reddish mark on his cheek caused tears to blind her vision for a rapid second.
“Leave,” he repeated firmly.
“No,” she said louder, reaching behind herself to close the door.
His nostrils flared before he let out a scoff. “You’re so goddamned stubborn.”
“Might as well get used to it, lover boy.”
Rowan inhaled shakily, jaw clenched and shoulders taut with an obvious anger he needed to release. Carefully, Ava took another step forward, holding his gaze.
“I don’t want or need your pity,” he spat out bitterly.
A gentle frown touched her brows. “I’m not here for that.”
Shaking his head, he tousled his locks and looked away. “What are you here for then?”
These past few years, Ava had witnessed multiple people walk away from Rowan during his lowest moments. She’d watched his team principal abandon him when he would fail at scoring points during a race. Had watched the media release negative reviews about his performances. Had seen the way his father treated him. Had seen how much he felt pressured into performing well just to be cast aside at the end of the day.
For a bizarre reason, she wanted to be the one who stayed even when he wanted to be enveloped by a solitude that would destroy him.
“Sit down,” she ordered with a chilling softness.
“Why?”
“Stop asking questions.”
A smirk started to play on the corner of his mouth, but she knew it was forced. “You love my questions.”
“You know I don’t.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He was still shaking, and it settled a heavy feeling inside her chest. She hated that. Hated seeing him like this.
She gestured to the sofa. “Sit down.”
“So bossy,” he mumbled. Still, he went and settled down. Throwing his head back, he rubbed his face, spread his legs out, and groaned in frustration.
Ava wanted to know about the thoughts fogging his mind. The demons obliterating his heart. The inner battles he’d been fighting alone.
The sunshine boy and the secrets he guarded so fiercely.
With a sigh, Ava walked to the chest of drawers placed on the other side of the room to retrieve a medical kit. She peered at Rowan; he was still lost in his world with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, hands curled into fists on his lap. His knee was bouncing. Up. Down. Repeat.
Gingerly, she walked towards the sofa and knelt on the ground, uncaring of her bare knees and the coldness of the floorboards.
Ever so carefully, she grabbed his right hand—the injured one.
Rowan startled at the contact of their skin, his eyes snapping open. His body stiffened, and Ava nearly regretted her actions.
She waited for him to retreat, to stand up, or ask her to leave again. But, after a few heartbeats, he simply relaxed and exhaled heavily.
“Is this okay?” she asked in a whisper.
Rowan’s eyebrows were drawn together, but he responded, “Yes.”
Ava brought his hand towards her, uncurling his trembling fingers. Staring at the bruised knuckles, raw from the punches he had thrown at the wall, she let out a soft sigh.
“Are you okay?”
“Marvellous,” Rowan answered dryly.
Ava swallowed and whispered, “He hit you.” Knowing this only constricted her chest, depriving her of oxygen. “He laid a hand on you.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, no , it’s not.”
“Avery… Look at me.” Through the buzzing in her ears, she hadn’t managed to make out the gentle tone he had taken. When she finally peered up, Rowan tipped the corner of his mouth upwards. Subtle, but there. “I’m okay. This isn’t the first time.”
“Doesn’t make it okay to—to—”
“Please,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Believe me when I say I’m grand.”
Sniffling, she nodded, not wanting to push his buttons. Regardless, the weight on her shoulders didn’t vanish. She cleared her throat, needing to hold clean control over her emotions. “You could’ve been a bit nicer to the wall.”
A dry chuckle rosefrom the back of his throat. “The wall’s fine.”
“Your hand, not so much.” When she let go of his hand and looked up, he was watching her with an unwavering tenderness that made warmth dance inside her chest. Before she could lose herself in the honey of his irises, she slipped her gaze to the medical pouch she had placed by her side. “You know you could get in trouble for behaving like this, right?”
Rowan hummed. “I know. But you’re not going to say anything to anyone, are you? It can be our little secret.”
She grabbed a cotton pad and poured some disinfectant onto it. “What are you going to say when someone sees your bruised hand?”
“I’ll say it’s nothing.”
Holding his hand, she dabbed his splintered skin with the wet pad. She kept her focus on her motions, but still heard the way he hissed under his breath.
“Sorry. Does it hurt?”
“No,” he responded smugly. “I’m a tough guy, sunflower.”
Ava bit the interior of her cheek and continued to clean his knuckles. She threw the used pad into the bin and reached for the tube of healing cream.
“It’s not nothing , you know,” she said, her forefinger delicately tracing his rouge knuckles, gaping at the flower tattoo on his hand. She kept her touch featherlight, barely existent whilst applying the cream.
Time seemed to slow down as she felt the way his regard was burning on the bridge of her nose. He was studying, cataloguing, calculating each one of her motions.
“You sound like you care,” he pointed out softly.
“I don’t.”
The corner of his lips tipped upwards when their gazes collided. “Liar.”
Ava didn’t respond. Didn’t want to admit that, deep down, she wanted to care.
Just as she was about to retreat her hand, his fingers looped around her wrist. His eyes flickered between hers, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.At that moment, she wondered if he could feel the fast beat of her pulse. The sudden anticipation threatening to make her body quiver.
“Tell me a secret,” she whispered.
Slight puzzlement flashed in his eyes. “Only if you give me one, too. A secret for a secret.”
“Okay.” She frowned when she felt his thumb brush the skin of her inner wrist—because chills started to arise on her skin, because the tension straining her shoulders vanished, and because she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Has he… Stephen… He’s always been like this with you?”
It was apparent that Rowan didn’t want to talk about it, but Ava knew he needed to release that pent-up anger and sadness. She thought they weren’t that different from one another; always keeping their feelings bottled inside, always putting on a smile to conceal their chagrin.
Rowan blinked and dropped his head forward, allowing a few curls to topple over his brows. He breathed heavily, the silence becoming almost deafening.
Ava wasn’t sure if she needed to put some distance between them, but the way he gripped her wrist was evidence that he wanted her to stay right here.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” she murmured, a sudden urge to coax him crashing through her veins. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”
Crestfallen eyes found her gaze, and her heart fractured at the sight of that sorrowful gloom misting over his irises. Finally, he admitted, “Yes.”
She knew it—that he liked to joke to conceal the pain. That he smiled to hide what broke him. That he let playing pretence just so no one could see what truly hurt him.
Taking the risk, she placed her free hand above his. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”
The sad smile he threw her way was anything but genuine. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“I know,” she breathed out. “But no one deserves to be treated this way by their own father. I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy.”
He blinked down at her, his features softening. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
When she smiled in response, she didn’t know how to act as he dropped his glance to her mouth. “Of course.”
She pushed herself up, forcing the warmth of his skin to disappear as he brought his hand to his lap. He clenched his fingers again before rubbing his face.
Ava turned on her heel, but before she could even take a step towards the exit, his hand caught her elbow. “Wait.”
Gently, he made her spin around, and she almost collided with his chest when she faced him. Slowly, she trailed her gaze from his torso to his face, sucking in a breath when his eyes blatantly traced the contours of her mouth.
“You can’t leave without telling me your secret,” he said, his signature, cocky grin back on those lips of his.
She shrugged. “Ask away.”
Without warning, Rowan lifted his hand until the tips of his fingers brushed her temple, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Ava was immobile, totally consumed and enthralled by the look of awe, and admiration, and adoration etched on his features.
“Why’d you do this today?” Confusion laced his tone. “Why did you help me?”
Her heart started to thunder furiously, and as much as she wanted to leave and hide her foolishness, she held his gaze and didn’t let her voice waver. “Because you deserve someone who stays and sees you when you’re at your lowest. Especially during your worst moments. You deserve someone who stays when you beg them to leave you alone. So, until you find that person who is willing to do this for you for the rest of your life, I’m going to fill the void. You might be infuriating, cocky, and arrogant, but I still think you have a good heart behind that ruthless mask. And no matter what you think of yourself, or what people have told you, you are a good man. And you’re enough. You are more than enough. I promise you this.”
Ava lost sense of time, of her surroundings, when he started meandering his gaze over her face, like he was trying to understand whether she was real or merely a figment of his imagination. He only let out a small shaky breath.
“Do you have any idea of how unique you are, Avery?” he inquired in a low voice that made a shiver roll down her spine.
She dropped her stare to the base of his throat where tattoos were peeking from beneath his fireproof shirt. “This isn’t about me.”
Rowan lifted her chin with the help of his forefinger, obliging her to look into hazel eyes. He was devastatingly beautiful. With those long, dark lashes framing his flirty gaze, with that tanned skin and dimpled smile, those sharp features and sharp tongue.
He cradled her cheek, and she stilled. This was wrong—so wrong. But why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she push him away, find a snarky remark to spit into his face?
His gaze was focused on her lips. “What are you doing to me?”
She was uncertain of how to respond to that.
“Rowan,” she whispered, his name caught in her throat. His thumb brushed her pulse and its thundering beat. She wondered if his, too, was hammering as violently to the point of coming to a complete stop.
“Push me away.”
She frowned slightly at his demand. He didn’t move. Didn’t step back. His words were a whole paradox to his actions. “Let me go then,” she countered.
“I don’t think I’m capable of that.”
Maybe Ava was getting drunk on the feel of him. Of his skin upon hers. Of his complete attention fixated on her.
Maybe she had lost her mind because she pushed herself on her tiptoes and placed her lips on his.
It was chaste, brief, and so quick before she realised what she had done. She stumbled backwards, hand over her mouth as she stared back at a wide-eyed Rowan.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, her heart thundering. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over—”
Rowan cut her off by slanting his mouth on hers. She gasped, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him. He cupped her face in between his large, rough hands, seeking dominance over the kiss by brushing his tongue over the seam of her lips. Ava parted her mouth, allowing his tongue to find hers as she winded her arms around his broad neck.
Everything about him screamed power. Devastation.
The way he kissed her without allowing her to breathe. The way he angled her face by wrapping a hand around her throat as the other found her hip. The way he kissed her with such vehemence that she thought she would lose balance.
And the way he drank her in, tightened his grip, and touched her like he was starved and needed more. Like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“Fuck,” he muttered against her lips. “We need to stop.”
“We really, really do,” she agreed, breathless. A soft gasp erupted when his lips skimmed over her jaw until they reached the pulse point on the side of her neck.
Rowan groaned before capturing her lips again.
Ava couldn’t think. Couldn’t worry about reality. Couldn’t do anything but return his kiss with equal need.
“Rowan,” she whispered when his hands found the back of her thighs. He hoisted her up easily, a grunt rumbling inside his chest when she pressed her front to his, her fingers tangling in his locks.
“Fuck,” he repeated, pushing her against the wall. “Say my name like that again, and I’ll make sure you scream it over and over until you show everyone in this place who’s making you feel like this.”
“We can’t—” Yet she gasped softly when he pushed her skirt up to her hips, pressing his prominent, hard bulge into her centre. “Oh, God.”
“It’s Rowan.” He smirked before nibbling her earlobe. “And if you allow me, I’ll worship your body because it’s a temple to me.”
“You’re such a flirt,” she fired, trying to hold her laughter in.
“You love it.”
“I despise it.”
“Whatever you say, love.”
Rowan’s mouth found hers again, tongues dancing and teeth clashing. Soft moans escaped his throat when she scraped her nails on his scalp just as he started rolling his hips on hers. Ava tipped her head back, allowing him to kiss his way from her throat down to her exposed collarbones.
Her mind had gone into a frenzy, her thoughts spiralling. All she could focus on was him. His hands. His mouth.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to shut that bratty mouth of yours by kissing you,” he admitted, one of his large hands finding her breast over her shirt. “God, you’re perfect, Avery. How are you even real?”
“How many times?” She met his hips by bucking hers forward.
“A lot. Too many to keep track.”
He palmed her breast, causing her to arch into his touch as he kissed her jaw, her cheek, her lips. She wanted their clothes gone. Wanted to release that tension. She knew he needed that, too.
He continued to rock his hips into her, and she knew he’d destroy her. He was big. Hard. And there were still layers in between them.
“Last chance,” he warned, “to push me away before I fuck you against that wall.”
“Rowan,” she gasped. “We can’t.”
He pecked her lips, his big hands cupping her bottom, guiding her to grind against his hard erection. She held a desperate moan in. “Are you saying you don’t want to get it out of your system?”
“I—” She was slowly losing herself in a thick haze of pleasure.
“Got nothing to deny coming from that smart mouth of yours?”
She didn’t say anything and stared into his eyes, observing his dilated pupils. His blood-rushed lips were gleaming, calling for her attention again.
“Is that what you want, Avery? Are you dripping wet for me right now?”
She shouldn’t want him, but she couldn’t help it.
Perhaps letting go of that tension would make her realise all this attraction was purely physical.
She trailed her fingers on his chest. God, he was crafted from marble. Everything about him was toned. Hard. Muscular. “Why don’t you find out?”
Rowan smirked. “I knew you were a naughty—”
Three knocks on the door cut him mid-sentence.
They shared a panicked look.
He put her down on her feet, taking a step back just as she dragged her skirt down.
They couldn’t look away from each other, their chests heaving in perfect sync, their ragged breaths echoing inside the room.She was ready to risk it all again.
And then, the realisation hit Ava like a tidal wave, nearly sweeping her off the ground. She had kissed Rowan . Had been willing to cross so many lines.
She couldn’t believe it, and it looked like he couldn’t, either.
The door opened, and Rowan turned around, adjusting his hard bulge and pushing his hair away from his forehead.
Ava grabbed the iPad she had left on the table just as Tate entered, her heart still racing at top speed.
“Damn,” Tate said. “Is the wall okay?”