Chapter 28
My manager was ridingmy ass. I hadn’t done the promotional shoots I was supposed to be doing. I had blown off my interview with GQ. I hadn’t returned my father’s calls, which meant he then called my manager and blasted him. The lawyers were all trying to get documentation from me, and I was tired of it.
I just wanted to drive. Not even partying was giving me a buzz at the moment. Everything just felt so fucking meaningless. I was on my couch, scrolling the the Gram, avoiding the pictures of Lucia and Mattias Fucking Christian that seemed to bombard me. I’d unfollowed their accounts, but they were deep in the world of Formula One, which meant that they were everywhere.
Throwing my phone across the couch cushions, I growled when it started ringing almost immediately. I contemplated ignoring it, but I hauled myself up and grabbed it. VANT’s number flashed across the screen. They’d called me four times already this morning, all of which I’d ignored. However, Antony Barbieri didn’t strike me as a patient man.
Of all the teams I’ve driven for, I liked these guys the best. Probably because they didn’t expect as much from me. I wasn’t a prize bull for them to lead around by the nose—not yet, at least.
Pressing answer, I switched the call to speaker. “Yeah?”
“Uh, Mr. Passero? It’s Valeria from VANT Racing,” the receptionist said hesitantly.
“I know.” I was being a dick, but what else was new?
“Right.” She let out a small, awkward laugh. “Mr. Barbieri is requesting your presence for a meeting this afternoon at two. He wanted me to emphasize the importance and non-optionability of it.”
She sounded nervous, and I wasn’t sure that was the effect I wanted to have on women. Other drivers, sure, but not on shaky receptionists. I felt a bit like an asshole. My mother would have my head if she knew that I was making women nervous.
I blew out a breath. “I’ll be there.” I looked at my watch. I had an hour to get across town. Whatever, I still had time to pick what to wear.
An hour and ten minutes later, I strolled into the reception area of VANT Racing. The receptionist still gave me that wide-eyed, star-struck look, and I smiled at her in greeting as I walked past. The door to Antony’s office was closed, but the waiting area wasn’t empty. Tally was there, her baby in her arms.
I came from a big family, and because I was the youngest son in a wicked web of thirteen children, some of my siblings, and half-siblings, were already having children during my teen years. Babies, I understood. They wanted nothing from me but to hold them, maybe make some weird faces or rock them to sleep. No, babies were easy. Adults were more complex, which was why I had twelve siblings, not all of them full-blooded.
Tally looked up at me and smiled. “Hello, Rocco.”
She was beautiful, in an American way. She was small, with a roundish face and bright eyes. There was hunger in those green depths. A hunger that spoke to my very own competitive spirit. However, today, the skin below her eyes almost looked bruised from lack of sleep, and there was a deep furrow between her brows.
I frowned at her.
She raised an eyebrow. “The correct response is ‘Hello, Tally.’ Or has the alien that possesses your body gone over its word quota for the day? If that’s the case, you could always just give a little wave. A nod of acknowledgement. Any of those work for you?”
“You look tired,” I said instead, and she rolled her eyes.
“There’s no hope for you. You’re incapable of being domesticated.” She looked down at the baby, who was awake. “Some fish you just have to throw back for being too spiky, baby girl.”
Bobbi-June gurgled, and I was mush at their feet. She was a cute baby, and the woman in front of me holding the baby made odd feelings churn in my chest. Maybe it was part of my ennui. Maybe meaningless sex was catching up with me, like my sisters had all said it would.
I snorted at the thought.
The door opened, and Antony was there, with the VANT legal counsel. I’d met with him a couple of times lately; I had a feeling he found me irritating.
“Great, you’re both here. Come in.”
Tally looked between me, Antony and the lawyer. “Uh, should I drop the baby off to Hayes?”
Antony waved a hand. “No, it’s fine. She can sit in on the meeting. I’d like her opinion,” he teased, cooing at the baby. Even stone-cold Antony Barbieri made cutesy noises in her presence.
Tally nodded, shifting the baby in her arms. I held out my hands. “Want me to carry her?”
Her gaze flicked over me. “If you could, just for a minute. My arms have gone numb.” She handed me the baby, and I smiled down at her pretty blue eyes.
“Bambolina,” I greeted Bobbi-June, shifting her into the crook of my arm easily. She weighed nothing to me. I gestured for Tally to walk in, and clocked Antony and the lawyer exchanging looks.
Rocking Bobbi-June softly, I sat carefully down on one of the soft couches in Antony’s office. Laying her across my lap, I put a hand on her belly as I gently bounced her up and down. “Does anyone want to tell me what this is about?” I asked lightly, looking over at Tally, who just shrugged from where she sat opposite Antony’s desk.
Our boss came around and leaned his ass against the desk. “I believe that you can perhaps help each other.” He looked at Tally first. “Rocco here is struggling to get a green card because of some kind of ‘moral turpitude’ clause.”
I clenched my jaw, but remained silent as her eyes ran over me before dropping to the baby, like I’d gone from someone safe to a possible threat to her child. “Moral turpitude?”
I huffed. “I beat the shit out of another driver after a race in Saudi Arabia, and people blew it out of proportion. He blew it out of proportion. Trust me when I say he deserved it.”
She stared at me for another long heartbeat, then finally turned back to Antony. It felt like an acceptance that I wasn’t a danger to her baby, or maybe that was wishful thinking.
“Okay? What does that have to do… Oh.” Her head snapped back toward me, but I was still confused as fuck.
“Don’t you hate it when people talk around you like you’re a fuc—ducking simpleton?” I asked the baby, who gurgled her agreement.
“Tally here needs a husband with a lot of money and some sway in the racing industry. Her ex-father-in-law is trying to gain custody of Bobbi-June by using her lack of both financial security and the social frameworks needed to create a beneficial and secure environment for the child.”
I frowned as it dawned on me too. I looked at Tally. “The asshole from the hospital?” She nodded, her lip wobbling. Fuck. I hoped she didn’t cry. I wasn’t sure I could deal with her tears. “I see.”
She was already shaking her head. “Impossible. I couldn’t do that to Hayes and Jesse. There has to be a different way that doesn’t involve me marrying a man who doesn’t even want to be married.”
I was trying not to be offended by her quick refusal. “Who says I don’t want to be married?”
She tilted her head at me. “The two women who got photographed blowing you in the back room of a club, like, three weeks ago?”
That had actually been well over two months ago, but it had been floating around in the tabloids for a couple of weeks now.
I shrugged. “That just means I like blow jobs.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That didn’t help your case like you think it did.”
“I’ll have you know, I’d love to be married.” Okay, not really true. “And I’m totally open to this idea.”
The baby on my lap was now starting to fall asleep. It was weird to have an entire conversation about an arranged marriage while rocking a baby on my knees, but somehow, that fit this moment.
Tally gaped at me. “You can’t seriously be on board with this?”
I shrugged. “Why not? It’s not forever, I’m sure. It’ll get Immigration off my back, if I have both a sponsor and a wife. You’ll get a husband who’s wildly richer than that old fuck. And I know you aren’t after my money, just my influence. Everyone’s hearts will be safe and secure. Sounds like a neat solution to me.”
Shaking her head, she looked between us all, like we were suggesting she hijack a plane. “And Jesse and Hayes?”
She has a point there. “See them on the side for a couple of years?”
“No.”
“Fine, move them in too. Polyamory seems to be the flavor of the month in this country,” I teased Antony. “It’s not like we’re marrying because of a grand love affair. You can all move into my place, and you can bang them on the downlow. You’ll be my wife, but that doesn’t stop you from being their girlfriend.”
Standing, she started to pace around. “This can’t be legal?” She looked at the lawyer. “It’s insane, right?”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “Strictly, legally speaking, it would be a neat solution to both your problems. Not the only solution, but the most concise and possibly pain-free option. We might have to pay off a few bureaucrats to tick some extraneous boxes, but you wouldn’t be the first sportsperson to secure their green card in this manner.”
She shot a look at Antony, and he held out his hands in front of him, like a magician showing everyone there were no tricks up his sleeve. “It’s your choice, Tally. I am just presenting you with a possible fix that is mutually beneficial. If you choose to go a different route, we’ll support you in that as well.”
Tally stared down at the sleeping baby, with her little rosebud lips parted. “I’ll talk to the guys and let you know.” She walked over to me. “There’d have to be rules,” she said softly.
“Of course, Stellina.”
She lifted Bobbi-June from my lap, walking over to put her into the carrier. We all watched in silence as she strapped the baby in and lifted it over her arm.
I didn’t think she would go for the offer; she seemed like the strong, independent type who hated relying on anyone else for anything. I found that so fucking attractive, which was an actual pain in the ass.
She turned at the door. “No matter the outcome, thank you for trying to find a fix for me. I appreciate it.” Then she turned, shutting the door softly.
The room was silent for what felt like a long time. Antony walked to the other side of his desk and sat down with a huff. “It goes without saying that if you do anything to hurt Tally or that baby, I will ruin you. I don’t care how rich you are.”
Well, he could try, but he’d be unsuccessful. However, on this, I agreed. “I would expect nothing less.” I looked at the lawyer. “Do you do prenuptial contracts? Because mark my words, I’m getting married.”
Antony shook his head. “You’re a cocky asshole, Passero, but you’re an honorable man. If I thought otherwise, I never would have suggested it.”
Honorable I might be, but my future wife was enough to tempt a saint.