Chapter 3
Henry made his way through the ballroom, greeting people and making sure everything ran smoothly. The cocktail party was in full swing. People had come from all around the world to share in Sarah and Wayne’s special day and he wanted to make sure they felt welcomed. At least that was the job Sarah had delegated to him minutes before the first guest arrived.
Since Sarah and Wayne wanted their guests to feel as if they were getting a taste of not only the UK but also each European country that they’d be visiting on their honeymoon, they had chosen a different theme for each event leading up to a traditional British wedding, which would be held at a stunning cathedral on the west side of London.
Tonight started the week of festivities, a welcome party for out-of-town friends and family. Sarah had gone for an Italian Riviera vibe, with potted topiaries and floral arrangements scattered through the ballroom. “In the colors eternalized by the most famous of Italian Impressionists,” she’d explained as if Henry were one of her bridesmaids. “I want a full-sized string quartet playing classical renditions of modern songs, like how they did it on Bridgerton.”
The brother part of him had been tempted to zone out on the hour-long call where she explained every minute detail of each event. But the protect part, which always won out, had listened to every word and Ooh-edand Ahh-edat all the right moments. He’d even smiled a few times. She’d been so excited it was like she was using all caps when she spoke.
She’d thanked him over and over again, which he said wasn’t necessary, which it wasn’t. He loved to spoil his family. But it made his day to see her this excited. He was still feeling out Wayne, but he had to admit that he hadn’t seen his sister this happy since before their dad left.
“It’s the first event, so it will set the mood for the entire week,”she had explained.
Which was how he wound up spending his evening moving through the room and chatting up everyone he ran into—strangers and friendlies. Thank god Sarah had made it mandatory that people surrendered their phones at the door or he’d have spent his night taking selfies with everyone he came across. As it was, he’d signed a hundred or so cocktail napkins. Not that he’d normally complain. He liked engaging with fans, they were a huge part of the reason for his commercial success, but tonight he wanted to fill the role of Sarah’s brother—let her shine in the spotlight.
“It’s about time,” his longtime friend and fellow racer, Jake Evans, said as he approached the bar. “You’ve been so busy playing the lady of the house I wasn’t sure if you had to surrender your man card along with your phone.”
Because he was the host and financier of the event, he had surrendered neither.
“Do you have sisters? No? Then fuck off,” Henry said.
“I’m just saying there’s a lot of pretty ladies here and you’re rubbing shoulders with the grannies.”
Oh, Henry was well aware of the view. He’d been scoping the more age-appropriate female population of the room all evening, and there were several potential candidates. See, he had an endgame for the evening. And it included champagne, tangled sheets, and a beautiful woman.
He’d already spoken to a few, including a beautiful brunette who was cheeky, had great banter, and no ties to his sisters. She had shown all the signs that she was interested. Now all he had to do was clarify that it was casual. He wasn’t really into one-night stands anymore, but a week-long fling would be a nice distraction. As long as all parties involved knew that when the wedding was over so was their time.
“Where’s Enzo?” he asked, referring to his teammate.
“He’s already working the room.”
“As long as he isn’t working one of my sister’s friends or the wedding party, we’ll be fine.”
“Good to know because Camilla is looking smokin’ in that little black dress. And may I emphasize the word little?” the American said, and even though he knew Jake was screwing with him, he still wanted to punch him.
Jake was another Formula 1 racer—the only one from America, which the guys gave him shit for—and one of Henry’s biggest competitors. Only thirteen points separated them from becoming the World Champion last season, but Henry had come out on top. Even through that they had remained best mates. So while they were fierce competitors on the track, their bond was cemented off the track.
“She’s twenty,” he said through a clenched jaw, because Jake wasn’t the only man to have noticed his sister.
“Point taken.”
“Your brother-in-law’s cousin is pretty hot.”
“They haven’t said I do just yet. And relations are off-limits in case they do.”
“Got it.”
Henry scanned the room for the brunette, his eyes snagging on the back of a woman in a jewel-colored green dress in the process. It was silky, with these skinny straps that were made to drive a man crazy. The fabric draped at her lower back and hung to her toes, hugging every curve in between. And there were a lot of curves. Even in her mile-high heels, she was a pocket rocket.
Her hair was this light red, golden under the chandeliers and twinkle lights that were strung overhead like a constellation. Part of her waves were twisted into some kind of complicated knot at the base of her head, while the rest hung past the middle of her bare back. Even though he couldn’t see her face, he couldn’t seem to look away.
“Yeah, I spotted her too. Talked to her actually,” Jake said, and a ping of jealously jolted through him, which was ridiculous since a) he’d never met the woman and b) he didn’t do jealousy. “She’s American, hot, funny, and not interested in a fling. She must be gay.”
Henry snorted. “Or maybe it’s just you.”
Jake looked horrified for a brief moment, then smiled. “Nah, it’s never me.”
“Care to place a wager?”
“Just because you won one championship doesn’t mean you can score with a lesbian.”
“Fine. If I score, you have to wear a ball cap that says Henry Norris is my hero for the first press conference of the season, and if I strike out, I’ll wear one with your name.”
Jake smiled. He loved a good wager as much as Henry. “Deal.”
They shook on it and with a sip of Scotch, Henry headed toward the stunning redhead. He walked around the edge of the dance floor, which was packed with couples twirling to an instrumental version of Taylor Swift’s “Love Story,” when Sarah came up to him with a bright smile. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“There you are. I haven’t talked to you all night.” She slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek to his chest.
He returned the embrace, kissing her on the crown of her head before letting go. “I have been doing my hosting duties.”
“Is that what you were doing when you were talking with Giselle?” She bit back a smile. “Hosting duties?”
Shit, he must have misunderstood her. The brunette was a friend of Sarah’s. Which made her off-limits. Not that it mattered; he had a new plan now. And it had nothing to do with the wager. Not that he’d let Jake know that. His mate would never let it go if he knew just how deeply this insta-attraction went.
“I see that look and you’re fine. She’s a co-worker, single, beautiful, sophisticated, a little full of herself, and completely surface. Just how you like them. She’s also completely within bounds,” Sarah said, mistakenly thinking he was still considering Giselle. “So, I’m giving the big green light.”
He was so busy looking for Red it took a moment for her words to soak in. “Full of herself and surface? Since when has that been my type?”
Was that really how his sister viewed him? As the kind of chap who was only interested in superficial, entitled birds?
Sarah snorted. “Since Chanel.”
“Just because I’m not looking for anything long term doesn’t mean I go through women like a revolving door.”
Sarah rested a compassionate hand on his arm. “You’re twisting my words. I’m just saying that right now you have a type and Giselle fits it. There’s nothing wrong with that and I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a womanizer. Just because I’m ready to settle down with the one doesn’t mean that you have to.”
“Can you tell Mum that?” he said, and they both laughed, dispelling the awkward tension. “Maybe she’ll stop trying to set me up with every single woman she meets.”
“As long as you promise to let loose this week and have fun.”
“We’ve been looking for you,” Debbie said, cutting through the crowd and before he could move, the woman was Velcroed to his chest in a suffocating hug.
“Group hug,” Jake said, appearing from nowhere, wrapping his arms around Henry’s back, making a sandwich. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by the entire family, including Sarah, who had the good sense to give him an apologetic look.
By the time the hug finally broke up people were staring, including a few that were looking as if they were considering asking Henry and Jake for a sandwich hug too.
Henry shot Jake a See what you started glare.
What? Jake lifted an innocent shoulder.
“Hank,” Debbie said as sweet as Julia’s Yorkshire pudding. “Do you mind if we grab a picture?”
Jake gave a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, Hank. A pic sounds great.”
“Mom,” Wayne said, aghast. “You were supposed to turn your phone in at the check-in counter. It’s a security thing.”
It was for this exact reason. Henry wasn’t the only high-profile person in the room. There were quite a few high rollers who expected privacy at an event like this, which was why Henry and Sarah had gone to such extravagant lengths, taking measures to prevent pictures appearing in the trash rags tomorrow.
“I just told them I was your mother. There was no way I’d miss this opportunity to capture this moment.” She turned toward him. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Jake said, clapping Henry on the back, with a gentle shove forward.
“Great. There’s a quiet alcove right over there that has a pretty view of the city.”
He followed Debbie like a good little soldier, relieved that the space wasn’t just quiet, it was discreet. He moved in front of the topiary and turned on the trademark smile. “Ready when you are.”
A series of uncomfortable looks passed between the group. Except Sarah, who was smiling like a cat who’d caught a wedding dove.
Wayne’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat. “I think my mom meant, could you take one of me, my lovely bride-to-be, and my parents?”
Well, shit. He’d read that scenario wrong. Maybe the woman at the airport had been right and his head was floating in an ego-filled cloud. At that moment, something inside shifted toward Wayne and his family. He still didn’t trust the bloke as far as he could throw him, but there was a bead of respect starting to form.
“Of course, mate,” Henry said, taking the camera.
He was about to snap the picture when something floral and feminine wrapped around him, tickling his dick. He turned to find the redhead standing beside him and, holy Christ, her body was even better than he’d thought. Full, tight bum, pinched-in waist, and tits that would fit perfectly in his palms. Then there was her profile. Long thick lashes, even longer elegant neck, a pert nose, and lush pouty lips that were created for kissing.
She tapped a finger to her chin in consideration. “Can I try something?”
“Sure,” Sarah said, but Henry noticed his sister’s shoulders tense with nerves as her eyes jumped between the two of them.
“Sarah, if you don’t mind, I’d like to shift you all slightly for a better composition. It will make all the difference. I swear.”
“You’re the professional when it comes to snapping pics.”
With her back to him, Red went to work. She gently but surely placed and positioned everyone like a pro, and sure enough it looked like a catalog ad, only more personal. Everyone looked their best, but the bride and groom were the center focus. As they should be since it was their moment.
He was thinking that maybe she was the wedding photographer when she turned to him and asked with a brilliant smile, “May I borrow the camera?” and he stopped thinking altogether.
It was her. The girl from the airport. He’d considered her beautiful then, but she was stunning now, breathtaking even. Based on her smile and the fact that she hadn’t gone for a knee to the crotch, she still hadn’t a clue as to who he was.
“By all means,” he said, and as he gave her the phone, her smile didn’t even falter. Her gaze, however, narrowed at his voice and her brows crumpled on top of each other in consideration. She was trying to place him. “Hi, love,” he added, and her mouth fell open in the perfect O of surprise. Her face blanched and she looked as if she just might puke on his shoes.
This complicated everything. Not only was she his sister’s photographer, but she was also immune to his charms. As proof, she sent him a glare cold enough to cryogenically freeze his nuts, then snatched the phone and turned her back to him.
“Perfect,” she said in that hoity-toity voice of hers. “Now smile.”
She snapped a few pictures, then handed the camera to Sarah to sign off.
“These are beautiful,” Sarah said, showing the group who all agreed.
“What do you think, Hank?” Debbie said, showing him the screen, and he could have sworn Red snorted under her breath at the American’s nickname.
“A great family portrait.”
“I agree.” Debbie kissed Red’s cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re always such a lifesaver.”
Maybe she wasn’t the photographer. Maybe she was here with Wayne’s family. That complicated things even more. It didn’t put a complete kibosh on his plan, there was the wager at stake after all, but it did tangle things a bit more.
“It was my pleasure,” Red said, taking the phone back. “Now that the pictures are finished, I will head over and drop this off at check-in. We don’t want the other guests getting nervous.”
“Wait,” Sarah said, grabbing Red’s arm. “Elle, I want to introduce you to my brother.”
Elle. He let that roll around in his mind. The name fit her designer dress and upper crust vocabulary, but somehow didn’t fit her. In fact, something about her seemed different as well, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hank,” she said, sticking out her hand.
“Oh, I thought you Americans were all huggers?” Before she could move, he pulled her into his arms. Once her soft curves were pressed against his hard planes, he second-guessed his decision. He loved a woman with curves. A perfect hourglass figure, if you asked him. A figure that could take him the entire week to fully explore.
“Let go,” she ground out.
“So is this how we’re going to play it? As strangers?” he whispered.
“We are strangers,” she whispered back with venom.
“If you say so. Anyway, it’s good to see you again, love.”
“I assure you. The feeling is not mutual.”
“Your body is saying different.”
She pushed away with force and looked down and, indeed, her nipples were hard with excitement. She crossed her arms and with a final glare, turned her back to him, taking the phone from Sarah. “I’ll get this to the check-in counter for you,” she said, all chipper and perky.
Henry watched her walk off, and was so busy watching that ass sway he didn’t notice his sister gawking at him until she said, “What was that?”
“What?” he asked casually, not feeling casual in the slightest.
“The hug.”
“You asked me to make an effort. That was me making an effort. I figured all Americans like hugs, so I went for the hug.”
Sarah scrutinized him for a long moment, so he slung his arm around her shoulder. “I was just being welcoming.”
He wanted to ask more about Elle, but his sister was already too suspicious. Which meant Henry would have to solve the mystery of Elle himself. With a kiss to his sister’s forehead, he said, “I’m going to make the rounds. Check in to see if everyone is having a good time.”
Sarah leaned into his side. “You’re the best.”
With that he walked into the crowd and as soon as he was in the middle of the pack, he changed directions and headed toward the check-in table. It took him less than a second to zero in on Elle. She was standing with a hip resting against a barstool talking to one of Henry’s cousins, Philip.
Philip was still wet behind the ears, had just started uni last year and didn’t know how to read when a woman wasn’t interested. And Elle was giving off every sign in the book that she wasn’t interested. That didn’t stop him from putting his hand on her arm every time he told a joke.
Henry moved until he was in Philip’s direct line of sight and then stared until the kid met his gaze. Henry slid him a long, hard look that said I will rip your arm off in one go if you don’t remove it yourself.
For a stupid kid, Philip quickly got the message. He removed his hand like Elle was made of toxic material and excused himself. Henry took the opportunity to slide into his space.
“A little young for you, isn’t he?”
She didn’t even look up from her martini. “You’re going to go there, Hank?”
“You should be thanking me. Philip’s balls haven’t even dropped.”
“Maybe I like them high and tight.” This time she met his gaze over the rim of her glass and two brilliant green pools hit him so hard in the gut he nearly forgot how to breathe.
It took him a minute to pull himself together. “He isn’t your type. Trust me.”
“How do you know my type?”
“I don’t, but it isn’t him. He’s an octopus when he’s drunk.”
“How do you know I’m not looking for an octopus?”
“Great. Then how about a date to the aquarium to see an actual octopus?”
“I’d rather take my chances with the human kind.”
“So that’s a no to a date?”
She eyeballed him as if to see if he were being serious and he was shocked to realize that he was. “I’ll pass. My father warned me about men who play with their dipstick for a living.”
Still unsure who Elle was, he took a shot. “After meeting your dad, I’m not surprised. He thinks NASCAR is racing after all.”
“First, my dad isn’t here. And why am I not surprised that you’d be offended that someone would get confused with driving in circles compared to figure eights.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” He stopped. “Wait. So you do know who I am?”
“Not really. I’ve heard your name whispered around here like you’re Gandhi. Besides that, I don’t know much.”
Wasn’t this refreshing. “It seems I’m at a disadvantage, I don’t know anything about you.”
“Intentional, I assure you.”
She turned to leave, and as he gently grabbed her elbow, it felt as if he’d been electrocuted by a live wire. Chemistry. Strong and potent. More potent than he’d felt in a while. If ever.
She jerked her arm back as if she’d felt it too.
He might rub her wrong, but there were parts of her he could tell he rubbed right. The kind of parts, had she been anyone else, he might be interested in exploring. But he dated only celebs for a reason. They got his world, understood secrecy, had just as much to lose. He didn’t know this girl from a stranger, which was the only reason he could come up with for why he asked, “Bride or groom’s side then?”
She blinked up at him with these bright, emerald eyes sparkling with confusion. “What?”
“Are you a friend of the bride or groom? I assume the groom.”
“Why, because I’m American? I assure you I won’t drop a single y’all or fixin’ to.”
“You’re too uppity for that?” he teased.
Her accent, although American, wasn’t from the Midwest like Wayne’s family. No, it was more refined, not so much as to say posh, but she definitely came from money. Her clothes, clipped words, designer shoes. She was what Jake would call high maintenance. Very unlike the girl he’d met at the airport in an oversized sweatshirt who was throwing barbs at him right and left. Hell, at one point he had been pretty sure she was going to cut off the family jewels.
She lifted a brow, just one and it was cute as hell with those freckles. “You really don’t know who I am?”
“Besides the girl from the airport who cut in front of me?”
“It was you who cut in front of me.”
“If you say so.” He flagged down the bartender and ordered a Scotch on the rocks. “So tell me, Elle, how do you know my sister?”
“Sarah and I have been friends and pen pals since we met at horse camp one summer in Connecticut.”
It was as if a light switch flipped. Sarah talked nonstop about Elle, the cool rich girl from Manhattan who always had the best clothes, the best horses, the best everything—except Henry had never been a fan. Elle sounded like one of those Queen Bee types who wave their wand and the other girls would buzz around to do her bidding.
Sarah wasn’t like the other kids, she was a scholarship kid from across the pond. The way Sarah had told it, Elle had reached down and plucked Sarah from obscurity and into the cool crowd. But not before some mean girl hazing.
“Little Elle Vaughn? So you’re the kid who put bleach in my sister’s shampoo.”