24. Adrian
Ibarely catch her as she drops to the ground, barely make it to her in time.
My heart sank at the sight of her. Eyes unfocused, chest moving up and down rapidly, panic all over that beautiful face of hers. She was hyperventilating and according to Scarlette, my sister’s race engineer, probably having an anxiety attack. Scarlette has anxiety, too, so she told me that sometimes when her anxiety gets really bad, she also faints.
It’s the only thing keeping me from freaking out more than I already am.
I called for a paramedic, who checked Nevaeh’s pulse and heart rate, waiting for her to regain consciousness with me. He pressed a cool and wet towel into my hand, telling me to place it on her forehead while we waited.
I do as I’m told, squatting beside the couch Nevaeh’s on with one of my arms draped around her middle, my hand drawing an eight-figure on the exposed skin on her hip as more worry fills my chest when she still doesn’t wake up.
Finally, her eyes flutter open, those pools of honey-brown finding me.
“Mon paradis,” I say, but she doesn’t seem to understand what I’m saying just yet. She blinks several more times, licking her dry lips once.
The paramedic comes up to her, asking me to step out of the way so he can ask her a few questions.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, checking her pulse once more since she’s awake now.
“If you tell me what happened, I’ll be fine,” she responds with half a smile. She lifts her hand a little to run it over her face, but when she notices it shaking, she adds, “Never mind.” Nevaeh balls her hand into a fist with a curse.
“Do you mind telling us? All I saw was you fainting, and I barely caught your head before it hit the ground,” I say, catching her attention.
“I had an anxiety attack,” she explains, confirming Scarlette’s suspicion.
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten anything?” the paramedic asks.
“Yesterday noon. Gillian didn’t give me a break today,” she admits, but only in a whisper to make sure the paramedic and I are the only ones who can hear her.
And, suddenly, I’m feeling very murderous.
“Did you drink anything today?” he goes on, but she shakes her head. “Alright, Ms. Fuchs, you are dehydrated and probably have very low blood sugar. I’m going to need you to eat and drink something unless you’d prefer to come to the hospital,” the paramedic says. She shakes her head again.
“I’ll drink more,” she replies, and it seems to satisfy the paramedic enough to leave us.
“Nevaeh,” I start, but she sits up and lets out a small groan.
“I have to go,” she says, but I close the distance between us to place a hand on her shoulder and keep her sitting.
“I’m getting you something to eat and some water. Call your boss, tell him what happened. He should have made sure you got a break for lunch, and the fact that he didn’t is unacceptable. Tell him to get his ass here before I get him fired for violating labor laws,” I say, making her lips part in surprise.
Nevaeh hasn’t seen this side of me yet. The side where I’m ready to tear down everyone who hurt the people I care about.
Yes, you caught me.
I like Nevaeh.
And now that she’s wiggled her way into my stone-cold heart, I’m not letting her go again. Above everything, my attraction for her and complicated feelings, she’s my friend. I’ve grown inexplicably fond of Nevaeh over the past five weeks. Hell, over the last five months. She’s just so… wonderful. There is no other word my mind comes up with except wonderful. In every way. She’s funny, sweet, kind, yet passionate, doesn’t shy away from speaking her mind, and has a fire so bright, I really want to play with it. Yes, even if it means I’ll get burned. I don’t care.
What’s a little pain when the pleasure of her company has me addicted to the way I feel when I’m with her?
“It’ll be alright, Adrian. I need to get back to work,” she says once I return with some water, electrolytes, and an energy bar as well as a bagel.
“Nevaeh, I don’t boss women around. It’s not who I am, so I’m very sorry about this,” I start and lower my face until we’re mere centimeters apart. Unable to control myself and needing some contact, I grab her chin between my thumb and index finger and tilt it up so she’s looking directly at me. “Sit, eat, and let me take care of you until you feel better. That’s not up for debate. Okay?” Her eyes drop to my lips, studying my mouth as I speak before she brings her gaze back to my eyes.
“Okay,” she mumbles.
I release her and hand her the water, waiting for her to drain half the bottle before handing her the electrolytes. The softest, sweetest laugh escapes her lips before she takes a few small sips of that, too.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I start, squatting down next to the couch again while I watch her dig into the bagel.
Nevaeh nods several times as if she’s thinking about my question and somehow knows what I’m about to ask.
“You want to know how long I’ve had anxiety, don’t you?” She lowers her bagel to look down at me.
“No. I want to know if your employer and boss know that you have it and that treating you this way can trigger an anxiety attack strong enough to knock you out,” I clarify, which seems to surprise her a little.
“No, they don’t know,” she admits, looking away from my face as she takes a deep breath. “Do you know how people look at you when they find out you have a mental illness like anxiety, depression, ADHD, or any of the other ones? They look at you like you’re not a human being. They view you as incapable, less than. I’m a woman trying to make it in a male-dominated field. If they find out I have anxiety? Pfft, they’d send me packing the first chance they got.”
She pauses to shift her eyes back to my face, a sad smile playing on her lips.
“I’m not ashamed to have anxiety, but I will not give anyone who I don’t trust the knowledge of it so they can use it as a weapon against me. It’s happened in the past, and I won’t let it happen again,” she explains, taking another bite of her bagel. As soon as she lowers it, I grab one of her hands and place it in both of mine.
“I won’t tell anyone. You have my word,” I promise, squeezing her hand where it rests in both of mine.
“I trust you, Adrian.” My heart practically expands in my chest at those words. Trust is a big thing for me, and knowing Nevaeh trusts me? Well, let’s just say I’m one lucky man.
“When you’re ready, will you tell me more about it?” I ask, and she flashes me a genuine smile.
“I’d love to.” She’d love to.
I smile at that.
Then wonder when the fuck I turned into such a sap.
“Nevaeh, where is the schedule I asked for?” Gillian’s voice appears from behind me, and I stand up to walk over to him. Nevaeh rushes to my side, stepping in front of me to talk to her boss first.
“I’m really sorry. I felt a bit dizzy and lost track of time,” she lies.
The frown Gillian directs at her in response has me grinding my molars. His eyes shift to me as he forces a smile, clearly realizing he can’t yell at Nevaeh while I’m here.
“Don’t let it happen again. We have things to do,” he states, and Nevaeh nods, ever the polite woman.
“Of course, I apologize.” Something protective, and perhaps a little possessive, has me readjusting until my back is almost touching her chest. I offer her boss my hand, and he shakes it, but I squeeze much harder than is necessary.
He winces but doesn’t retract his hand.
“Mr. Fender, I’m glad you’re here, I have a question for you,” I say, letting go of his hand to cross my arms in front of my chest. “Are you interested in an exclusive article about the everyday life of a Velocità Rossa Formula One driver during a race weekend?” Nevaeh twists her head to look at me, surprise widening her eyes.
“That would be incredible. I can have my team—” I interrupt him.
“I don’t want your whole team. I want Nevaeh,” I say.
Gillian stumbles a step backward, furrowing his brows at me. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but can you blame me? I want Nevaeh safe and sound by my side for the rest of the fucking season. I’ll take one weekend if that’s all I can get.
“I was thinking that Nevaeh could accompany me this weekend and write the article herself. If you’re interested,” I offer, watching Nevaeh press her lips together to keep from saying anything while she digests my offer, too.
A journalist following a driver around during a race weekend is unheard of, and I’m pretty sure my team would never agree to this. But I’ll make them agree. I’ll make them take this deal. If it breaks the rules, I don’t give a flying fuck. Nevaeh is not finishing this weekend under Gillian’s leadership. I’ll sign a contract, she can sign a contract, whatever it takes for her to do this, to get an exclusive like no one ever has before.
“I would—” Nevaeh starts, but Gillian shoots her a warning glare that probably makes her feel stupid for saying anything in the first place.
Fucking dickface.
My head tilts as I force the smile on my face to stay put, even if I want to smash his face against the wall for how he’s treating Nevaeh.
“You want Nevaeh to shadow you so she can write an exclusive article? You do understand she has only started on her journalism path, right?”
“If Nevaeh would like to, yes. I think she has great potential and seeing her running around, doing errands like collecting schedules for you seems like a waste of her talents. I read your article on Serena Williams while you were interning for their rival, Specter Sports, and I would love for you to write one like that about me, just in more detail,” I say, only addressing her with the last sentence.
“I—” Gillian cuts her off again before she can get a second word in.
“We will discuss it and get back to you.” I choose to ignore him, waiting for Nevaeh to respond instead.
“I would love to, but you should check with your team first, and I will check with mine.”
She doesn’t want to undermine Gillian’s authority, no matter how much he deserves it right now. It’s not who she is, unfortunately. Plus, she told me Specter Sports didn’t rehire her because they had no position open.
Between you and me, I’d have fired every single person to have Nevaeh on my team.
“Mr. Fender,” I say, my focus now drifting back to her boss. “Take this deal. Don’t waste Ms. Fuchs’ time.” I straighten out my Velocità Rossa team shirt and fake another smile. “Oh, and if I ever, no matter which race, watch her faint again because you forget to give her a break, I will make sure your time as a Formula One reporter will be over. I have great respect for you and your years here, but that was unacceptable, and I have taken note of how you treat your employees. Best if that stays between us, wouldn’t you agree?” Nevaeh nudges my side, but I don’t even flinch. I stand in front of Gillian, immovable as a rock.
“You fainted?” Gillian asks, his whole demeanor changing abruptly.
His hand moves onto her shoulder, and he squeezes a little, probably to comfort her. But it twists everything inside of me until I’m nauseous and angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” Because you’re a disgusting, slimy man who hides behind a nice mask to make people like you, that’s why.
“You didn’t give me a chance to,” she replies.
“Nevaeh will write that article. You will accompany him starting tomorrow. For today, you’re free to go back to the hotel,” he says before finally walking away, leaving me alone with the beautiful woman beside me.
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved in my business,” she points out, crossing her arms in front of her chest and scowling at me. My tongue swipes over my bottom lip as I lower my head and close the distance between us.
“Your health and happiness are my business, Nevaeh,” I say, and the frown on her lips fades as her cheeks turn pink. The urge to reach out and run my fingers over her freckles, count them so I know how many dust the bridge of her nose and cheeks, is overwhelming. “Plus, this was to make sure he doesn’t disobey labor laws again. Really getting involved in your business would have been me ‘convincing’ him to drop the no-dating-the-drivers rule,” I go on, watching her bite down on the inside of her cheek.
“You can do that?”The corners of my mouth curl into a smile before I can stop them.
She’s watching my mouth again. Always watching my lips like she can’t wait for me to kiss her. And I want to kiss her. I want to so fucking badly that I can’t think of anything better I could do right now. I want to press her up against that wall behind her and explore her mouth until her knees buckle. Until I have to hold her up by pressing my body against hers and she’s whimpering into my mouth how good I feel.
“Do you want me to?” I ask.
Her brown-blonde hair flies a little as she moves her head to the side to laugh, and I get lost in the thought of running my fingers through it, wrapping it around my fist, and tugging on it.
Fuck. Me.
“I think it’s best if we focus on the weekend for now.” She’s overwhelmed. I can see it in her eyes, so I don’t push. I’d never push her when she’s already all over the place because of her boss. Add Lincoln and her anxiety on top, and anyone would crack under that mountain of pressure.
But not Nevaeh.
No, she’s a fucking warrior.
Not to mention, I don’t know if I could actually make that rule go away, but I’d at least try. I’m not sure I’d give up either if she told me that’s what she wanted, and that terrifies me above all.
“Whatever you want, monange,” I say, lifting my arms in the air to stretch and show off my body a little.
Her eyes trail down my chest, lingering on my exposed skin before she forces them away again. The way her cheeks turn red once more has me fucking giddy. I love turning this woman on.
“I want you to eat more and go to the hotel and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, ripping a chuckle from her. I look around the empty room for a moment before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek.
“See you tomorrow, Adrian,” she replies as I step away, a shy smile on her lips.
The things I’d do to kiss that smile.