Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
N INA UPPED HER maximum speed on the treadmill, pushing herself into a sprint. She was all alone in the Falco Roux private fitness facility, with most of the team taking a rest day. With the idea of rest being utterly laughable, she’d chosen to complete a punishing session of strength and mobility work. She pushed herself past her usual limits, making the excuse that she needed to get some heavy cardio in after a long night travelling back to Monaco from Paris. In truth, she was simply trying to take a break from the constant notifications on her phone and the threat of Astrid Lewis appearing like an anxious PR damage-control fairy behind her at any moment.
She had messed up, royally.
The photos of her and Tristan Falco kissing had appeared on a gossip site late last night and had spread like wildfire across social media within hours. Even with all the money that Tristan Falco had, no one could stop the power of the Internet. They were the top trending topic on most social media sites and if he hadn’t known who she was last night, he certainly did now with headlines like The Roux-mours Are True and Falco’s Driving Her Crazy titillating the masses. She’d stopped looking after the first few, utterly unable to stare at another image of her one moment of weakness.
She wasn’t even quite sure how it had happened. She wasn’t the best judge of context most of the time, but add in the kind of intense charm that Tristan Falco exuded and, quite simply, her mental processing had been compromised. He’d mistaken her for someone else, that much was for sure with the kind of things he’d been saying. But who he might have mistaken her for was an utter mystery. She had gone over and over their conversation in her mind, trying to pick at which point things had begun to unravel past her control.
Her mind conjured up an HD slow-motion reel of the moment his lips had touched the inside of her wrist and she was shocked at the immediate flush of warmth that swirled behind her bellybutton.
Yeah, that had been the start of it, all right.
One thing was for sure, the rumours about ultimate playboy Tristan Falco were not at all false. And apparently, she had come perilously close to experiencing his skills first-hand. Even the small taste she had received had felt like being hooked up to a live electricity source. He was brutally intense, and she had never reacted to anyone physically like that. Not a single person.
It was why she’d never felt any urge to go on dates, or pursue flirtations with the many guys who’d expressed intense curiosity about thawing the so-called Elite One Ice Princess. It wasn’t an act or a measure of self-preservation; she simply wasn’t interested. She was always in control and she never forgot who she was and what she wanted.
Well, almost never.
Punching the speed even higher, she ran and ran until she thought she might come close to pulling a muscle and then she stopped and cooled down, staring out at the view of the harbour for a long time before forcing herself to go and shower. She lingered longer than usual under the hot spray, once again feeling lucky that she was the only female driver on the team and had an entire bathroom to herself. She’d managed to avoid the rest of the team since arriving at their relatively deserted headquarters, but she was no fool, she knew that she couldn’t avoid them for ever. Any respect she’d had as a driver was now compromised, with her name being dragged through the mud.
The idea that she’d been seen kissing their new playboy owner... Scandal like that was bound to cause trouble. Would all of the work she’d done to be seen as an equal to the male drivers be reset and disregarded? Reputations were everything in this high-drama sport and she had just painted a target on her back. She’d already been branded as a pay driver, a term given to minimise the talent of drivers who were related to their team owner. But she’d proven herself time and time again as she’d risen up through the ranks, showing her skill while still acknowledging the enormous privilege she’d experienced as a member of the Roux family.
There was no fancy term she knew of for a driver who was perceived to be sleeping with the team owner, but she was pretty sure the public would come up with plenty. None of which would be remotely complimentary to her.
With a single kiss, Tristan Falco had possibly landed the final nail in the coffin of her short-lived career. Or perhaps she had done that herself by allowing her temper to take hold and travelling to Paris to confront him incognito. He hadn’t forced himself on her after all. She could have stopped him at any moment. Much as she’d like to pretend that she hadn’t been in full possession of her senses, in fact the opposite was true. A handsome man had shown her the slightest bit of attention and she’d melted into his embrace like butter. She’d been painfully aware of every touch, every look, every slide of his lips against hers.
She was twenty-three and hadn’t experienced a true kiss of passion until last night. She wasn’t embarrassed about that fact—her lack of experience wasn’t something she thought about often at all. It was easy not to think about sex when you didn’t particularly feel or engage in sexual attraction. But with Falco, she’d felt far too much. Now she wondered, if they hadn’t been interrupted, would she have stopped him at all?
Her nipples pebbled painfully and she blamed the air conditioning, shaking off her thoughts as she stepped out of the shower. Her reflection in the mirror was a cruel reminder of the real reason Falco hadn’t recognised her when she’d removed her mask last night. Her black hair hung limply to her shoulders, not quite curly but not quite straight either. Dark circles underlined her red-rimmed eyes, framed by a face most in the media had delighted in describing as plain and uninteresting.
Most people outside the media described her that way too. They seemed to make a point to comment on her supposed lack of femininity, analysing her ungraceful gait and her far too casual dress sense. Traits that the men in her industry generally did not have to accentuate or play up to. She’d long ago stopped bothering to challenge their boring ideals.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder would the playboy find her so fascinating if he could see her now? She pushed the thought away, reminding herself that Falco’s opinion of her did not matter. What mattered most right now was to try and figure out a way to see if anything in this workplace nightmare was salvageable. Perhaps she could use this to get her contract fully cancelled, maybe get in ahead of the news to one of the other teams, offer to sign a scandalously low contract with them... Even as the thought crossed her mind she pushed it away, knowing that the legal ramifications would bankrupt her if she tried to do that.
‘You are fascinating,’ she told her reflection in the mirror. ‘Fascinatingly gifted at tanking your own career.’
A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts and she rushed to wrap a towel around herself before answering, betting it was Sophie come to chastise her for working too hard. It took her a moment of stunned blinking to realise that the handsome blond besuited man standing on the other side was not her trainer, but Tristan Falco. With a squeak, she threw the door closed again.
‘I’ve already seen you, so there’s no point in hiding. We need to talk.’
She held her breath, pressing herself back against the cool tiled wall and fighting the urge to groan at her own terrible life choices. Realistically, how long could she hide in here before he gave up? Her gym bag with all of her things was on the other side of the door and he knew she was in here. She wasn’t the only one who’d been dealing with a personal PR nightmare for the past twelve hours. He hadn’t come all this way for a casual chat.
As if to prove that point, he rapped on the door once again. ‘Nina. We don’t have time for this. I’m here to discuss urgent matters.’
Her name in his silky voice sent a shiver down her spine—of trepidation, she was sure. This man was her team owner, her boss’s boss. The person who controlled every cent that kept the racing team she loved alive. Like it or not, she had to at least try to plead her case to him. She had to fight.
‘Do you plan to hide in there all day?’ His voice was a rough rasp on the other side of the door, his impatience clear. ‘Your little photo stunt in Paris has created a situation that requires immediate action.’
Irritation won out over modesty and before she knew it, Nina was flinging open the door to face him once more. ‘ My little stunt?’ she fumed. ‘I’m not the one who was comparing my eyes to diamonds and bragging about my skills .’
His eyes briefly lowered to take in her towel-clad form before his jaw set and he met her gaze head-on. ‘I didn’t know who you were.’
‘That says more about you than me, considering you’ve owned my family’s racing team for more than a year.’ She ignored the wave of embarrassment threatening to drown her and focused on her anger and indignation. ‘I never court the press and I had nothing to do with that photo. I followed you because you are impossible to meet with and I needed to convince you to cancel my contract. That’s the only reason I went to Paris.’
Falco’s eyes narrowed, a hand absent-mindedly rising to scrub along the shadow of stubble along his jawline. ‘Did you kiss me in the hope I would fire you?’
‘No.’ Nina gasped, her cheeks heating. ‘And you kissed me .’
His eyes darkened. ‘It’s irrelevant who initiated it...because your contract is not up for negotiation. Surely you know that. You’re the only remaining family member working in a team that thrives on superstition. A team that I’ve been trying to rescue and bring back to glory, but been met with public resistance at every turn. I may not be a racing expert, but I’ve done my research. The only thing that has not been against us is having you locked into a five-year term.’
Nina closed her eyes, knowing that he was right. Knowing that the superstition the Roux fans held was ridiculous, but that didn’t make it any less real. It had been the only reason that had kept her here over the past couple of years since her brother had brought their family’s finances to the brink of collapse. They had only ever been without a Roux on the team for a handful of seasons, and each one of those had been plagued with crashes and incidents bringing them nothing but ruin.
‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you signed Apollo Accardi instead of promoting your hardest-working and best-performing reserve driver.’ Nina stood up tall, wishing she’d at least been wearing her gym shorts for this altercation. But she was here now, so she might as well say her piece.
He tilted his head to the side, surveying her with keen interest. ‘You expected the promotion to fall to you instead of a former world champion with years of track experience?’
‘I expected at the very least an attempt at showing me some respect, some form of communication to explain why the usual protocol was being changed to make way for a completely new driver mid-season instead of the obvious replacement, yes.’ Nina stood her ground, ignoring the flash of awareness in her gut that she felt with his eyes on her. ‘But it really shouldn’t have surprised me, considering the way you do business.’
Tristan tried to ignore the way Nina’s cheeks flushed as her temper rose. The woman was furious with him, that much was abundantly clear. Suddenly her aloof attitude from the night before made infinitely more sense. She’d been in a mask and haute couture, but as he’d surmised—scrubbed clean, she was still strikingly beautiful.
Pulling his attention back to the conversation at hand, he tried to resolve his unusually scattered thoughts. He’d come here to ascertain if her appearance last night had been with the intent to sabotage the team, or deliberately cause a scandal. Now that he was relatively sure it had been a misunderstanding on both of their parts, he had an even more difficult job to do—convince her to help him.
‘Exactly how do I do business, Miss Roux?’ He purred, ‘Please, enlighten me.’
‘You buy up failing companies and sell them off, with very little close contact or sentiment,’ she responded easily. ‘That tactic might work in a hedge fund or a faceless corporation, but it won’t work here. You may have put your name up front, but Roux Racing was built on passion and loyalty.’
Passion. Loyalty. The way she said the words with such conviction, it was clear she truly believed them. Perhaps in this case, she was right. ‘My ownership style is not why you weren’t consulted on the Accardi deal. We secured the signing of the decade that will give us a psychological and strategic edge against our biggest competitor. Surprise was essential.’
She didn’t answer him immediately, instead she grabbed her gym bag and disappeared momentarily into a screened-off area, no doubt to change into some clothing. He took the chance to steer the conversation to his ultimate goal. To the reason why he’d chosen to race here himself today, instead of sending his PR team in his place to clean up the mess. Tristan Falco never missed an opportunity to capitalise on a business opportunity, and Nina might not know it yet, but their kiss had unwittingly become the answer to both of their problems.
‘Speaking of passion, Astrid has informed me that the photo of us kissing has officially gone viral.’ He waited a moment, taking a seat on the long bench that lined the wall of the dressing room.
She reappeared from behind the screen in a pair of white gym shorts and a loose-fitting Falco Roux polo shirt. ‘You say that like it’s a positive thing.’
‘Actually, my team seems to think it’s the answer to all of our PR issues.’
Nina immediately stiffened and shook her head, jet-black waves shaking gently with the movement. ‘For you, perhaps. I’m sure the comments about me aren’t quite the same.’
He slid his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the curated list of comments that Astrid had forwarded him an hour before. They included gushing viral clips from critics and romantics and superstitious old-timer racing buffs alike. The list also included an unheard-of increase in the sale of Falco Roux merchandise, stock and race tickets over the past twelve hours, which was predicted only to grow as the news continued to spread. He watched as Nina read through the data, her keen eyes rising back to his with stunned understanding.
‘These comments...they’re all positive. Happy, even.’
‘Apparently the fans love us together. And the stockholders love it when the fans are happy. This is great for the team.’
She crossed her arms. ‘So this is why you came here. To ask me to go along with a lie for publicity?’
Tristan crossed his arms. ‘I expected a true business mind would see this as the golden bargaining opportunity that it is.’
‘You’re suddenly open to negotiation?’ She paused, one cynical brow quirking.
‘My offer is simple. Stay. Play the paddock romance out until the end of the season and you’re free to go.’
‘Just like that?’ She moved to the end of the bench, her hands twisting over and over in a strangely entrancing motion. When her eyes met his, they were stark. ‘What if I say no?’
Tristan paused, measuring his words carefully before he spoke. ‘If you try to leave for another team, then this goes exactly the same way it has gone for every other driver who has tried to break their contract. No special treatment.’
Nina closed her eyes. She knew what that meant. Legal battles, public defamation, and her reputation as a spoilt princess would become even more prominent. But there was still a chance she’d be bankrupt even if she saw the full contract out. Reserve drivers’ wages didn’t pay nearly enough to cover the her annual racing licence fees and other costs, not now that she was maintaining the cost of running the girls academy fully by herself. She’d have to downsize, maybe even close down for good and disappoint all of the talented young girls around the world who looked up to her and relied on her guidance.
Nina ran a hand through her hair. ‘So my choice is to stay put for the next two years and waste more time as a reserve, or compromise my integrity by playing the part of the billionaire owner’s girlfriend for the next few months. That’s great, just great.’
‘Fiancée,’ Tristan said silkily, his eyes pinning her in place.
‘What? Why?’ Nina felt her words tumbling over her tongue but was powerless to stop them. Nothing about this interaction was anywhere close to being in her comfort zone and it just seemed to be getting worse with every new piece of information he divulged.
‘My mother has recently been pressuring me to marry, and until last night I was in the market to fulfil that wish. If we go ahead with encouraging this PR fire for the next few months, it’ll give me time without her breathing down my neck. I need it to benefit me as well.’
The mention of his needs made her breath catch and her traitorous imagination run wild with images of what such needs might entail. She pushed them away, trying to focus her business mind on the offer as a whole. Trying to make sure she wasn’t being led astray.
‘If I say yes, what would this deal entail?’ she asked slowly, nibbling on the edge of a fingernail. ‘Just holding hands in public every now and then?’
‘Initially, we would just continue to stir speculation, capitalise on the current interest by being seen often together in the public eye.’
‘And once that part is done?’ she pressed.
‘We would eventually announce our engagement and use our individual images to benefit one another: my presence at more of your races and your presence in my upcoming Falco Diamonds centenary campaign, that kind of thing. I will also require your attendance as my fiancée at my mother’s wedding in Buenos Aires, but we’ll be there for the Argentinian race, anyway. Don’t worry; behind closed doors, this relationship will be purely platonic. It’ll be safer for us both that way.’
‘So it wouldn’t be a big commitment, then. Timewise, I mean?’ she asked, mulling over the potential pitfalls and struggling to find any that weren’t in favour of agreeing to this mad plan. ‘With your decision to bring in a completely new driver mid-season, I won’t have much spare time, Mr Falco.’
‘You’ll make time for me, Nina ,’ he said calmly, without missing a beat.
Nina ignored the thoroughly inappropriate pulse of awareness that thrummed through her at his words. ‘With all due respect, Tristan , as a professional driver, I have a very demanding job.’
‘Duly noted, but as my fiancée you will go where I go. Starting right now.’ He eyed her Falco Roux polo shirt. ‘You might want to change. I’ve made a lunch reservation at Blu Mont.’
‘I haven’t actually agreed to anything yet.’ She looked down at her shorts and running shoes. ‘And besides, I find it hard to see how anyone with a pair of eyes will believe that you’re planning to marry me whether I’m in my uniform or a ballgown.’
He stepped closer. ‘You’d better start convincing yourself, then. Because once you agree, this deal begins immediately.’