Chapter 5 #2
Taking her hand in mine, I say, “I don’t know what we’re about to face, but I’ll shield you the best I can. Stay close to my side. Don’t make eye contact with anybody or say a word, not even ‘no comment.’ Okay?”
“Okay.” Her fingers tighten around mine just as we’re about to leave. “Don’t let go of me.”
I turn back, stealing a second to take her in. She doesn’t sit in sadness this time, but her vulnerability still comes through her pleading eyes. I give her hand a squeeze and reply, “Never.”
I don’t open the door until I receive the driver’s text:
I’m here.
“Let’s go.”
Two girls barge past us as soon as we move into the hall.
Holding her hand, I shift Marina under my arm and lead her to the exit door.
Pushing through, we don’t get two feet outside before I hear both of our names being shouted.
I look left to see photographers from the edge of the street running down the alley toward us.
We rush, but I don’t see the car. Shit. “Where’s the fucking car?” I look right and see the red taillights, quick to pivot with Marina at my side.
“I can’t run in these shoes.”
I’m so tempted to pick her up, but that will add blood in the water for the sharks to devour and splash across every site tomorrow. Though I might be kidding myself even now about the impact of us being seen together.
I don’t know where the guys flashing their lights bright in our eyes came from, but I hold my hand up and duck to the side. “Five feet straight ahead,” I say, wondering if she can even hear me over the shouting.
“New hot couple alert.”
“How long have you been a couple?”
She’s bumped, causing her to stumble. She’s safe in my arms, but I glare at the fucker who had the nerve to get in her way. “Get the fuck away from her.”
Questions still fly, hitting us from all sides.
“Are you dating or fucking Cash?”
“Where’s Corbin Darian, Marina?”
“Gonna blow the race again, Ryatt?”
We reach the car, and I shift Marina in front of me to keep her out of the line of paparazzi fire. She ducks into the back seat, and I’m right behind her. As soon as the door closes, I lock it. She does the same on the other side.
Turning back to face each other, our hands are still clasped between us. Neither makes a move. We may be tucked safely in the back, but my ears still ring from the thunder of shouting on the other side of the glass.
The driver gets in and starts driving.
The flashes haven’t stopped. We both look out the back windshield to see the aftermath of the chaos we escaped. I drop my head down into my hand and massage my brow. “We’re fucked.” How am I going to explain this tomorrow?
Marina sits in silence, her hand slowly pulled free from mine and left alone on her lap.
I turn to the window, the streetlights not as bright as where we came from, and try not to think about the shitstorm ahead.
I can’t let my head get caught up in something I can’t control.
They will write what they want, and I’ll have to defend myself.
It’s nothing new, but something I had hoped to avoid this season.
A soft touch draws my eyes to my leg as Marina’s delicate fingers come to rest on my thigh. When I meet her gaze in the dark of the car, she whispers, “I don’t hate you, Cash.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I just strongly dislike you.” Her cheeks tug her lips into a smile she tries to restrain but can’t. It’s the sweetest of smiles she’s given me yet, my favorite one on her so far.
I burst out laughing. Dropping my head back to the seat rest, I cover her hand with mine and tilt to face her. “That’s good. Progress, right? That leaves the door open for the—”
“Not a chance.” She laughs as she rests back as well, leaving her hand planted right under mine like we do this all the time. Rolling her neck, she looks at me, the laughter fading. “I’m sorry, Cash.”
I exhale, releasing what tomorrow brings and focusing on the present with her. “It’s okay. I can handle whatever comes my way. I’m not called the comeback kid for nothing.”
“I thought you were the bad boy of racing?”
“It depends who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.” Her gaze stays locked on mine as if she’s genuinely interested.
I wasn’t expecting it. “I prefer to be judged by who I am today rather than my past.”
The car pulls to the front of the hotel without a photographer in sight. It’s one of the reasons I like to stay here when I’m in Miami. They protect their guests’ privacy.
Marina doesn’t leave like we’re strangers when we get out of the car this time.
She comes around and waits for me to get out of the vehicle, and we walk into the lobby together.
Although it’s a one-time thing and there may not be respect, there’s trust between us.
So there’s no need to fill the air with empty niceties.
We stare ahead instead of at each other until we step into the elevator. “So . . .” She rocks back on her heels. “Where ya going, Ryan?”
I grin, shaking my head. I think I’m more upset that I’m getting accustomed to hearing that name than her calling me that in jest. I don’t mind, though. It feels too good with her to fuck it up with some snippy comment.
Not wanting to ruin this moment, I let the name go because it doesn’t matter. Nothing does but the here and now. “Anywhere you are.”