31. Aurélie #3
I gasped dramatically, then pretended to be upset by rifling through my bag and tossing my stuff on the bed. “You don’t want me to celebrate my first Formula 1 win?” I paused my movements to pout at him. “Wow. And here I thought you were proud of me.”
“I am proud of you,” he said instantly, stepping closer. “I just—” He gestured downward, voice cracking. God, this was way too much fun. “I can’t go out like this.”
“Good.” I took a sip of my wine—a deliciously bold red blend. “Now you know how I felt all day.”
He let out a tortured noise and dragged both hands down his face as if he was about to combust. I grabbed my makeup bags, flat iron, and wine and went to the bathroom to put myself together. “It’s different for you! Yours isn’t visible!”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” I called over my shoulder.
Seconds later,Callumappeared behind me and leaned back against the wall. “You’re evil.”
I dabbed concealer under my eyes. “I prefer… strategic.”
“I could change your mind.”
“You could try.” I blended my concealer and moved on to my contour. “But I’m still pretty pissed you outed us without asking first.”
He had the audacity to look sheepish. “You said you’d beg for it. I just thought…”
“You’d get laid on command?” I offered.
He gave me that megawatt, dimple-showing grin, but it fell when I smiled sweetly back at him—the same way I smiled at the media when they asked if I belonged in Formula 1.
“You’re the one who sent that message mid-call.
” Foundation went on next. “You got cocky, Fraser. And now…” I trailed off, letting him fill in the silence.
Now he was fucked-up and staring at me as if I was both his salvation and his punishment.
He stood there watching me as I set my base and moved onto my eyes.
“I’m going to die tonight,” he whispered.
I sipped slowly on my wine, hiding my smirk. “But you’ll look good doing it.”
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my waist while I did my eye makeup, chin resting on my shoulder. “I was literally inside you an hour ago.”
I patted his hair. “And you did such a good job. You should be proud.”
Callumsighed and tightened his hold on me. I ignored him until I was done with my makeup.
“Off. I need to do my hair.”
“But—”
“Go get dressed,Callum. I’ll be done soon.”
But instead of leaving, he stepped closer again, eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror.
“Aurélie,” he murmured. His fingers brushed my hair off my shoulder, tucking it behind my ear as if it was something fragile.
Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to the bruise just above my collarbone—the damning one he fucking left—before nosing down the curve of my neck as if he belonged there.
“You really should cover that up,” he whispered, voice dark with satisfaction.
Then he dragged his thumb under my shirt collar, tugging it aside.
His mouth followed, soft and deliberate, kissing each freckle.
“Your skin’s like a night sky,” he murmured against my shoulder.
“Little constellations. I could spend all night mapping them.”
I stilled, remembering the way he traced each one in Imola. Like he wanted to memorize every single one. A part of me melted under the weight of it—his voice, his touch, his ridiculous sweetness. But another part… cracked. Deep and quiet and not at all fair, but there .
Because he would be the only thing capable of making today feel even better and worse at the same time. Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was nothing. But fuck, it still stung.
Of course he’d know how to talk like that. Of course he’d say things like that—effortlessly, poetically, like it was second nature.
Pain and poetry, they’d said. Kimi and Marco had laughed when they said it, like it was some well-established fact. And maybe they wouldn’t have joked like that if they knew just how deep we were in this… but it was still the truth, wasn’t it?
I was one of many.
Sure, I’d had my fair share of partners, too—but not like that. Not in a way where someone kissed your skin like it was scripture. Not in a way that feltwrittenfor me.
I let him hold me, let him wrap his arms around my waist and press his chin to my shoulder while I did my makeup. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t say a word.
But I sat with it. The weight of it.
Jealousy was a familiar feeling. Santino made sure of that. Being cheated on rewires you. It makes you suspicious of soft things.
And no, this wasn’t the same. I knew that.
But it didn’t stop the ache from blooming in my chest and twisting low in my stomach. Didn’t stop the voice in my head whispering, This is who he is . Maybe Callum Fraser wasn’t a hopeless romantic. Maybe he was just used to saying sweet nothings to get his way.
Well, he wouldn’t get away with that anymore. Because I would be the one to change that.
I knew his reputation. I’d seenthe stories online.
I’d heard the rumors, but hearing it directly, feeling it—that was different.
It shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal, but it did, because I hadn’t been the first girl to feel his mouth on her skin like this.
But fuck if I wasn’t going to be the last .
“Callum,” I said softly, not quite sure if I was warning him or myself.
He looked up at me, gaze heavy. “Yeah?”
I forced a smile and gently nudged him back with my elbow. “I said off. Hair time.”
He sighed again and begrudgingly shuffled out of the room. The whole thing was hysterical, like watching a child throw a temper tantrum. So sad that the man who was used to winning now had to deal with losing.
Victory tasted like wine, justice, and makingCallumFraser—four-time world champion, consummate control freak, and the man I was head-over-heels in love with—absolutely suffer.
He’d learn eventually never to try to outmaneuver a French woman who races for a living. Especially not one who felt a little scorned by a past she wasn’t a part of.