Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Mackie is avoiding me, and I don’t blame him, but it makes me sad, nonetheless.
I hide away in my office all day so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable while he’s at work.
It’s the least I can do. It also means I’m staring at my couch, remembering the way he felt in my arms—perfect, like he was made to be in them.
I can still remember his scent. It drove me crazy, even as all the stress I’m always under faded. It was cruel for me to do it, but I couldn’t resist. Now, though, that I know how it feels, I want it again.
Despite me pushing him away and pretending I don’t remember the kiss, he looked after me.
That’s the type of person he is, and it only makes me care for him more and solidifies the reason why I’m doing this.
If he knew, he would spend the rest of my life caring for me, even if it broke his heart in the end. I won’t do that to him.
I don’t want to be the reason his sparkle dims.
By the time evening rolls around, I’m in a foul mood, and it doesn’t get any better since I am due home this evening for a family meal, which will more than likely be an assault about my life choices and their desire for my marriage.
There’s no real way to prepare for it, but I shower and change since that will at least stop the comments about my attire and choice of job.
I tuck the silk shirt into the perfectly pressed pants, topping it off with my boots since I can’t wear those god-awful oxfords my dad loves.
My chain and rings are still in place, since there is only so much I’m willing to compromise, and it’s the best they will get.
I take the Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail to show that I’m using it. I don’t drive it to work or when I’m with the team. No one knows about my family, and that’s the way I like it.
It doesn’t take long to drive to the suburbs, and once I traverse the winding path to the hillside mansion monstrosity my father built, I pull through the iron gates and leave my car outside the canopied entrance.
After tossing my keys to the butler, I head inside.
My boots slap on the marble floors as I bypass the parlor and head straight to the dining room.
I can hear the din of voices even from here.
I take a deep breath and close my expression down.
When I’m ready, I open the doors and step inside.
The chatter instantly stops, and I incline my head toward the thirty-two-seater dining table my father had handcrafted for this room.
He sits at the head of it, his once black hair now peppered with gray but artfully styled.
He wipes his mouth, careful of his neatly trimmed mustache, and leans back into the dramatic wingback chair, his designer suit crinkling with the movement.
I look like him, more so than my mother, but I have her eyes.
I glance at her as she sits taller, a small smile gracing her beautiful face.
From here, I can see the latest designer dress draping her form.
I glance at the other guests and stiffen. I should have known. Amanda and her parents are seated as well, already eating.
Forcing a smile, I walk around the table and kiss my mother’s cheek. “Mother, you look incredible, as always.” Taking the seat to her left next to my father, I nod at him. “Sorry I’m late.”
He huffs. “You probably wanted to miss the entire meal. Honestly, we see you once a month. Can’t you be on time?” His tone is angry, and I stiffen but nod along, knowing it’s the easiest way.
He’s not a bad father. He’s done everything to provide for me and our family so we can have a good life. He just has his own ideas of what that should be. Mom always says we are too much alike, hence why we butt heads.
She calls us stubborn fools.
It’s one of the reasons I set out on my own, wanting to make a name for myself. I didn’t want handouts or to be given everything on a platter. I wanted to earn it and maybe his respect. It worked for my job, but now he’s focused on other matters.
“Noah, did you come from work?” Amanda asks sweetly.
She is a perfect mixture of poise and grace, and despite her usual venom, she flutters her lashes sweetly.
“You must be so tired. Don’t be so hard on him, Mr. Fletcher.
He’s working hard. I visited his little garage myself, and it’s so busy there. ”
I grab a glass of wine and tip it back, needing it to get through the night.
These meals are always more like a business meeting than a family get-together.
I used to long for their attention and approval, but once I realized my father spoke to me like he did to his board of directors, I quickly lost interest.
I still sometimes have a childish wish that my father would love me, but he has always considered me an extension of himself and his business. It doesn’t make him a bad father, just a cold one.
Mom reaches under the table and pats my hand, silently showing her support. She’ll speak up if she needs to, but she knows how well that goes. When Father sets his mind to something, he gets his way.
“How is the racing business?” Amanda’s father asks. What he truly wants to know is how my profits are doing. If he gets his way and I marry his daughter, he’ll have his claws in my business and money for the rest of our lives.
“Noah’s business is doing very well. I check on it myself,” my father answers, sitting taller as if he’s proud, but I know it’s more about the money I’m earning than anything.
“Isn’t the racing industry a tad small? You’re so talented, Noah. With your business degrees, you could have taken over for your father,” Amanda’s mother comments. “It’s a shame.”
“There is still time.” My father grins. “It’s a family business, after all. Who needs more wine?”
I stay quiet, ignoring their chatter since it’s nothing I give a shit about. They can think what they want about my future and business because the only one who will be deciding it is me.
“Amanda and I found the perfect venue the other day for the wedding. We need to ensure we are making preparations. It will be the wedding of the year due to our families, so you can never plan too early.” My head jerks up and I narrow my eyes on her mother before looking at my father. He spares me a glance before smiling.
“Of course, we can discuss that—”
“No, we can’t.” I wipe my mouth, tossing my napkin down. “I thought I made this very clear, but apparently not. I have no intention of marrying Amanda or anyone else you choose for me. If, and I mean if, I ever do decide to get married, it will be someone of my choosing.”
“Noah,” my mother whispers.
Amanda’s father’s fork clangs into his plate as he glares at me and my father. “My daughter has been promised to you. If you back out now, she will be seen as damaged and we will never get her married. It would ruin both of our reputations.”
My father tries to smooth things over. “Rest assured, Mr. Winchester. Noah intends to marry Amanda—”
“No, I don’t. Not ever. For starters, she isn’t my type.” I run my eyes down her, making it clear, and her eyes narrow in anger as some of her usual venom returns.
“No, he prefers things I don’t have,” she spits before her mother silences her, and she bows her head, looking respectful, but I know it’s to hide her anger.
She wants this wedding as much as they do—not because she loves or wants me, but because she wants my name and the money and reputation that would come with it.
“Kids, you don’t know what you want or what’s best for you. You’d pick someone to spite me and ruin your future. Amanda is a good match. She’s from a good family, and she’s smart, driven—”
“And yet I still won’t marry her.” I smile as my father’s face turns red.
“We had a deal, Noah,” my father snarls. “You could chase your dreams of racing, and this was the compromise. You are a man of this family, so you will keep your word.”
My smile drops as we glare at each other. “I built my business and name from the ground up. You can’t take it.”
“Try me,” he threatens. “You will keep your word. That’s what men in our family do.”
Shoving my chair back, I down my drink. “Excuse me, I’m no longer in the mood to eat.”
“Noah,” my mom begs. I force my anger back and smile as I lean down and kiss her cheek again. “Please stay.”
“I’ll see you next week,” I say, and without another look back, I storm from the dining room, my father’s voice ringing after me.
“You will learn your place, Noah. Don’t mistake me!”
My car is still outside, so I take the keys and gun it out of there, heading to the one place where I can calm my struggling heart.
The garage is dark and empty, since everyone else is home, so I leave my Royce outside and walk through the locker room, grabbing a set of keys as I go.
They just so happen to be Mackie’s. His car is locked away, but it doesn’t take me long to get it on the track, and when the lights shine on the cement, my heart finally slows.
The inside of a car has always provided an escape from my family who I will never be good enough for and fans who forgot about me as soon as I was gone. Everything always disappears behind the wheel, as it does now.
The passenger door suddenly opens, and I whip around as Mackie climbs in and fastens his belt. “What are you doing?” I ask.
He looks from me to the track with pursed lips. “I was coming to practice and noticed my car was gone.”
“Get out,” I mutter. I’m not in the mood tonight, and besides, it’s awkward between us.
“It’s my car.” He grins, unbothered by my cold voice and expression. “Well? Are we going or what? Or have you forgotten how to drive?” His scent wraps around me until I’m hard and throbbing, and my eyes drop to his lips, remembering how they felt. “Need me to teach you, boss?”
“I thought you were avoiding me,” I remind him, my voice strained. My desire makes me forget my anger and irritation, washing them away when I’m faced with him.
He shrugs as he leans back. “Hard to avoid you when you’re in my car. Either get moving or get out, old man.”
“Old man?” My mouth drops open as I gape at him. “I’ll fucking show you old.”
I know that’s why he did it. Mackie can read me better than anyone. It’s unnerving how well he can play me, but I don’t mind when he smiles at me as I rev the engine. I’m not alone, and I like it. Now, all I can think about is him.
I take off faster than he usually does. There is a reason I’m undefeated.
Mackie slams into his seat, but his smile is wide, and when I take the first corner, he whoops as I glide around it.
Grinning, I change gears, old habits coming back.
The move is as familiar as walking, and I lap the course, once, then twice, my smile turning real until I pull to a stop on the fourth lap.
The engine purrs as my heart slows from the race.
Turning my head, I met Mackie’s happy gaze.
“Feel better?” he asks.
My nod is automatic. I do feel better. He doesn’t ask what is wrong, but for once, I wish he would. I want to tell him everything. I want him to understand, but I can’t, and he doesn’t.
His smile drops the more I stare, and the silence becomes thick with all the unspoken words and ignored desire.
I want Mackie, have since the moment I met him, when he was too young to be lusting after someone like me. We both wanted each other. I just hid it better than he did.
“You know, I used to watch you race,” he admits.
“I know.” He told me once when we were drunk.
He nods as he looks out at the track. “You’ve still got it. I used to dream of sitting in the passenger seat, seeing you race up close. I guess I got my wish.”
“And was it worth it?” We both know what I’m talking about, and he looks at me, his features sad and tired, and my heart aches.
“Some wishes should stay that way, just wishes. Sometimes it’s better not knowing because then at least you still have hope.” He undoes his belt and climbs from the car. “See you tomorrow, boss.” Just like that, he’s gone, locked down, enforcing the lines I drew.
Boss and employee.
I hate it.