TWENTY-SEVEN
Milan
PRESENT
The roar of the engine slowly fades as I come to a stop and turn the key to shut it off.
I lean against the steering wheel, my gaze fixed on her. She is looking at the impressive sign marking the entrance to the Davis Grand Circuit.
A hint of uncertainty is in her expression as her eyes scan the racetrack. “What is this place?”
Davis Grand Circuit on Belle Isle.
The most prestigious racetrack in this region, owned by the Davis family.
Although Elena and Raelyn’s parents – Matthew and Helene Davis – are the owners, they have no interest in running the racetrack. Instead, they’ve handed over this responsibility to Julian Davis, Matthew Davis’ younger brother.
“Come on,” I say to her as I get out of the car. She follows me hesitantly, her eyes wandering around the grounds.
Because it’s still pretty early, I didn’t expect anyone to be here. I take her hand and pull her with me. As we stroll through the grounds, we spot a few mechanics working on their machines. In the distance, someone’s taking laps, the sound of his engine like a symphony of speed.
“Why are we here?” she asks again.
“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”
She instantly stops and looks at me as if I’ve just given her some unexpected riddle.
“No,” she answers in a low voice. “Not exactly.”
Not exactly . Of course, my brother gave her a ride on his motorcycle.
The thought of her behind him on his bike stirs a sense of unease within me. And I’m reminded once again that she used to meet him. That she destroyed something that can never be fixed. A bitter taste spreads in my mouth as I try to push those thoughts away.
When I saw her crying on the steps, I shouldn’t have spoken to her in the first place. But my body reacted before my mind could even intervene.
Today, I don’t want to think about the past. I don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons I should hate her. Later, I can despise her with all my passion again, but right now I want to forget everything and focus on the present.
“Whenever I need to clear my head, I always come here,” I say as we walk past the workshops. “Here, it’s all about speed, technique and concentration. Everything else disappears.”
It’s the only place in all of Detroit that has an atmosphere that’s both calming and thrilling. It’s my safe place.
“I’ll show you how to ride a bike.”
“What? No!” she blurts out as I drag her with me into the locker room. She can’t ride in her school uniform.
“Oh yes.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “What’s the matter? Scared, huh?”
She narrows her eyes at me, like I’ve insulted her. “I’m not scared.”
“Oh yeah?” I shove a fitting suit into her hands. “Then prove it.”
A defiant spark flashes in her eyes. My lips curl into a grin.
She stares at the gear and sighs. “Get out. I’m changing.”
“Why? Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
A huff escapes her lips, and she glares at me. “Get. Out."
“No.”
I lean against the wall next to the door, keeping my eyes on her. She holds my gaze and squints her eyes into slits. An electric tension hangs in the air between us as we stand facing each other in a silent duel. It seems like she’s going to accept my challenge.
Just as her fingers move to the buttons of her shirt, someone knocks on the door.
Julian’s voice breaks the tension from outside the room. “Shane? Are you here?”
I hesitate before pushing away from the wall. “I’m here.”
Next time I won’t give her that satisfaction. I turn and leave the room. Even though I hate missing the chance to watch her change, I have to take care of Julian first.
“Why aren’t you at school?” the younger uncle of the Davis daughters confronts me.
“Class was canceled,” I lie, not bothering to make it sound believable.
His skeptical expression rests on me. “How many times is this going to happen? You shouldn’t be skipping school to come here.”
I walk past him to grab a helmet for Aliya from the other room and try to ignore his words.
A midnight blue helmet or one in ruby red?
“Evan Shane is going to shut down the circuit because of you.”
Definitely ruby red. That’s her color. It just suits her fiery nature.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I reach for the helmet and hold it up for inspection while picturing Aliya wearing it. I can already picture her stubborn, cute face peeking out from under the red helmet.
“Who’s that for?” Julian furrows his brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve done it again … No!” His voice sounds alarmed as he pieces something together in his head.
He tries to get into the locker room where Aliya is changing, but I react faster and grab him by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare go in there.”
“I’m warning you, Milan, if you’ve brought another kid here, I’ll kick you out myself.”
Last spring, Damian and I let Shin’s younger brother Ryu, who was just 12 at the time, ride a motorcycle. He crashed into two bikes and caused a lot of damage. Julian and Shin didn’t find that funny at all.
“Calm down. It’s not what you think.”
His suspicious gaze literally bores into me. “Then who’s the helmet for?”
I take a deep breath and force myself to stay calm. “Just trust me, Julian. This time, it’s nothing dangerous.”
“Wait.” His voice suddenly sounds amused. “Did you bring a girl here?”
I glance at him with narrowed eyes. His mischievous expression tells me he seems to already know the answer.
“What about it?” I reply evasively.
“Never would’ve thought you’d bring a girl here,” he comments with a chuckle. “Now I see why you didn’t want to let me in the locker room.”
I roll my eyes, but inside my mind is racing. I’ve been involved with a lot of girls, that’s no secret. Parties, clubs, short flings – that’s my everyday life.
But this racetrack is my life. My sanctuary.
The place where I feel freedom, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I race around the curves.
Aside from Shin and Damian, I’ve never brought anyone here.
Bringing her here, of all people, means letting her into a part of my world that’s incredibly important to me. And that’s fucking absurd because she should be the last person to get access to my life.
That damn thought pisses me off.
“Fuck you,” I mutter as he looks at me with a knowing grin.
“I’m serious, Milan. Can I meet her?”
“No.”
Julian raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “You’re just like your brother.”
It’s as if he’s deliberately hitting a nerve. The comparisons to my brother are a constant presence. I can feel the bitterness rising within me, but I suppress it and force myself to appear indifferent.
I’m not Kilian.
I will never be Kilian.
I hate that everyone compares me to him.
“Whatever you say,” I finally reply dryly, my hand clenched tightly around the door handle, ready to return to the locker room. “Now leave us alone.”
Julian laughs and pats me on the shoulder before turning around and heading off.
A heavy sigh escapes me as I try to keep my emotions in check. I hate how easily they can bubble to the surface.
Without knocking, I storm into the locker room. Aliya flinches, half in the suit, and looks at me in surprise.
“Don’t you know how to knock?” she snaps as she pulls up the zipper of the suit.
I wish I’d come in a few minutes earlier.
I set the helmet aside. “Nope. Nobody ever taught me.”
The black-and-white suit hugs her slim figure perfectly, accentuating every curve. Her smooth movements as she zips it up to her chin increase my desire to take it off her again.
If she knew that this suit actually belonged to Elena, she’d probably take it off by herself.
The thought that she was really jealous of Elena makes me stifle a smirk. I enjoy throwing her off balance. Finally, she’s not the only one weighing on my mind, and I’m swirling around in hers too.
Elena wouldn’t be pleased to find out that I lent Aliya her suit. But it’s the only one here that’s even close to her size. Plus, Elena hasn’t been here in over a year, so she’ll probably never know.
I’m no saint. A sin or two more won’t hurt me.
Aliya picks up the gloves to put them on, but I snatch them from her hand. Her eyes widen, then she looks at me in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you’re properly prepared.” I take her hand in mine.
“I can do it myself,” she disagrees.
With furrowed brows, I examine the many bandages on her fingers. Is there a day when she isn’t fucking injured?
Since I’ve known her, she’s always had bandages on her fingertips. I know it comes from woodcarving, but the fact that she’s constantly injuring herself bothers me.
I run my thumb over the bandage on her fingers. Some are new, while others look worn. “Still hurt, huh?”
She tries to pull her hand back, but instead of letting go, I tighten my grip. I slide the first glove over her fingers and fit it carefully. As I pull the second glove over her hand, my fingers brush against her skin, and for a moment I pause, feeling the warmth radiating from her.
I can sense her penetrating gaze on me. She watches me silently, not taking her eyes off me, which momentarily throws me off balance.
In my mind, I trace her facial features, absorbing every detail – the slight creases on her forehead, the way her lips are slightly parted as if she wants to say something but can’t find the words.
The corner of my mouth twitches up. “If you keep staring at me like that, we’re going to have a problem.”
A hint of embarrassment flushes across her cheeks. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Yeah, sure.”
After tightening the last straps of her glove, I reach for the helmet and head toward the door. “Come on.”
But when I notice she’s not making any move to follow me, I turn back to her. A glance at her face reveals that something is holding her back. Her expression is tense, and she seems lost in thought.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you getting nervous?”
She tenses up but tries not to show any weakness. “No.”
“Then come with me. Let’s see if you’re really as brave as you claim.”
I open the door and wait for her to step out of the locker room. Her nervousness is evident in the stiff way she moves.
Let’s see how much you can really take, Little Curse.
Aliya looks even more nervous as she sits on the motorcycle I’ve chosen for her. Her fingers clutch the handles tightly.
“This is the throttle,” I explain, placing my hand over hers and guiding her fingers to show her how to twist it. “Turn it slowly to accelerate. And this is the clutch.” I guide her other hand to the clutch lever. “Pull it in before you shift gears.”
Aliya nods mechanically, but her eyes betray her anxiety. “And the brake?”
“Up here.” I point out the brake lever on the right handle. My fingers lightly glide over hers. “And down here is the foot brake.” I indicate the pedal, lifting it with my foot to demonstrate.
“Don’t make any sudden movements. You need to stay calm.”
I walk around the motorcycle and kneel next to the foot pegs. “These are the gears.” I guide her ankle to show her how to shift with her foot. “First gear is down, all others are up. You always have to pull in the clutch when you shift gears.”
Aliya watches me attentively, her visor lifted.
I straighten up. “And the most important thing is, don’t forget to breathe, sweetheart.”
I help her close the visor of her helmet before putting on my own. After ensuring she’s seated correctly, I swing onto the pillion seat behind her.
Her back presses against my torso. The warmth of her body, felt even through the protective suit, sends a shiver down my spine. My hands wrap around her waist as I lean in closer to give her better instructions.
“Now, slowly twist the throttle.”
Aliya activates the throttle just like I showed her before. Her movements are cautious, almost timid.
“Now pull in the clutch and start driving slowly.”
Her hands tremble slightly as she grips the handlebars, and I sense her body tense as she gradually accelerates and sets the bike in motion.
A smirk spreads across my lips.
My girl is smart, she learns quickly.
“You can speed up.” I pinch her hip, causing her to wince briefly before she steps on the gas.
The vibrations of the engine intensify beneath us, a powerful hum that resonates through our bodies. She needs to learn to push her limits and gain more confidence in her abilities.
“Now brake.” We’re approaching the first turn, and at the speed she’s going, she won’t make the curve. But instead of following my advice, she speeds up.
My hands grip her waist tighter to make her realize that she needs to slow down. “Aliya. Brake.”
But she ignores my command as we rapidly approach the bend. My heart races in my chest and my pulse thunders in my ears.
If she doesn’t brake now, we won’t make the turn.
Fucking hell.
The motorcycle leans dangerously to the side as we head into the curve. The trees and asphalt blur into a gray streak. Adrenaline surges through my veins.
In a quick motion, I lean over her. My hands reach forward to pull the brake lever. With all my strength, I lean the bike to navigate the curve. The motorcycle slows abruptly, the tires squeal against the asphalt, and the wind whips around us as we take the turn.
I brake all the way, and the bike comes to a jarring stop. My heart is still racing as I try to calm my breathing.
“Have you lost your mind?” I finally snap.
She lifts the visor of her helmet and turns to me. Her eyes sparkle sweetly, as if she hadn’t just nearly killed us. “I would’ve made it if you’d let me.”
“Fucking bullshit.”
What the hell was she thinking? It’s fucking dangerous to steer a motorcycle from the pillion seat, but her recklessness left me with no choice.
“What’s the matter? Were you scared?”
I glare at her, irritated that she’s using my words from the locker room against me.
“Can I ride again? That was more fun than I thought.” She faces forward as if nothing happened. Her enthusiasm seems unshakeable.
I watch in disbelief as she tries to restart the engine. Hell no.
“You get off right now,” I order, dismounting as well.
She turns her head toward me, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Why? It was just getting exciting.”
“Get. Off.”
After a moment of hesitation, she finally complies. “I’m sure I would’ve managed the turn.”
Her carefree attitude almost amuses me. It’s unbelievable that she looked so nervous before. How can she be so calm now?
“Next time I want to ride alone. Without you.”
The corners of my mouth twist. Her feisty nature already made me hard, but this new facet, this apparent fearlessness, excites me in a whole new way.
Oh, what a vicious girl she is.
It’s as if she consciously puts herself in danger, letting the adrenaline take control of her actions. And somehow, I find that really hot.
“You’re never riding again.”
“I’ll be careful. No need to be so protective of me.”
“Too late. The moment you got on that bike with me, I took responsibility for you.” I mount the motorcycle to head back.
“Careful, you almost sound possessive.” She swings onto the pillion seat behind me.
“Possessive? Nah, I just take care of what’s mine.”
I rev the engine and give it a quick jolt of gas, causing Aliya to wrap her arms tightly around me and lay her head on my back.
“Cocky bastard,” she curses.
“You like it, sweetheart. Stop denying it.”
“I don’t. It’s just so hard to keep up with your ego.”
“My ego isn’t the only thing that’s hard.”
She falls silent and a grin spreads across my lips as I imagine her blushing. Finally, I accelerate to drive back to the starting point.
The roar of the engine and the feeling of Aliya’s embrace around my torso are strangely calming.
When we finally stop, we dismount, and I help her take off her helmet. A slight smile flits across her lips, and immediately my gaze falls on the dimple adorning her cheek.
“That was exciting,” she whispers, looking at me with a glint of adventure in her eyes.
“Too bad you’ll never do it again.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Says who?”
“Me, sweetheart.”
I turn to the motorcycle to roll it back to the parking spots. “And you’re going to obey me, like a good little girl.”
A flicker of defiance sparks in her gaze. “What if I don’t want to obey?”
“Then I’ll have to punish you. Is that what you want?”
Her resistance falters for a moment, her breath hitches at my words. The thought of being punished clearly flusters her. It’s a refreshing feeling to see her rattled.
“I’ll take care of the bike,” I inform her. “You can go change … unless you want me to help you this time.”
“No, thanks. I can do it on my own.”
Before I can respond, she heads toward the locker room. I watch her, my eyes following every movement until she disappears from my view.
“She’s cute,” Julian’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He stands on the bleachers, looking down at me with an amused grin.
I show him my middle finger, which elicits a laugh from him before I take the bike to the parking spots.
She means trouble.
She’s trouble.
My little trouble.