Chapter 1
ONE
CROWN JEWEL
ADRIENNE
One month earlier…
Coronado, California
“I’m pregnant.”
I stand in stunned silence as Dad’s wife makes one hell of an announcement. Until today, or whenever he let one past the goalie, I was an only child.
A baby.
I can remember way back when I was little, I always wanted a sibling, a brother or sister to play with.
A companion and best friend. I’m not going to lie and say my childhood was tragic, because it wasn’t, far from it, in fact.
Even after my parents’ divorce, they still loved me and showered me with attention.
I wasn’t abused or mistreated by any of the wives who came after my mom.
But none of them gave me siblings, which is why this feels strange.
Like, shouldn’t this have happened a decade ago, not now?
But a baby?
Even though I’m twenty-eight, and we’ll be twenty-nine years apart by the time he or she is born, I’m still going to love them. I’m also going to spoil the hell out of them.
“I think that’s great news, Candy,” I tell Dad’s current wife. I can’t think of her as my step-anything when she’s younger than I am by five years. She’s not a friend or a sister, but she’s also not my mom. We’re nothing more than relations of my dad’s.
“It could be a boy,” she says. “Don’t you think retiring now is a bit premature? You could have a real son to hand the company to in a few years.”
“I’m getting old, babe,” is all he murmurs, running a hand through his still dark hair that’s just a touch too long. He’s fifty-three, but he’s not old. My dad is in excellent shape and is still at the top of his game, so his earlier announcement about retiring was shocking, to say the least.
“So we run the company until he’s of age,” she suggests tugging me from my internal thoughts about how old my dad is and how old his wife is not.
Now that’s a little offensive, considering Dad’s big dog and pony show of a press conference we were all at his house for. But like I said before, she and I have never been close.
“I’m sure Adrienne or Bobby or both of them will find a place for this kid at DHR if that’s where they want to be when they grow old enough,” Dad says, and for the first time in my entire life, he sounds… tired.
“You’re not even listening!” she screams. The shrill tone has both Bobby and I both wincing. “You’re sacrificing the legacy of what could be your only son, because you think you’re getting old?”
“I’m tired, Candy. Just let it go,” he says.
“No. I’m not going to fucking let it go until you march back out there and tell them our good news and that you’ve changed your mind,” she argues. “Tell them you didn’t know we were expecting, but now you realize and you’ll wait to give your legacy to your son.”
“I have a twenty-eight-year-old daughter who’s more than capable, babe,” he says quietly. His soft-spoken praise for me warms my heart but also has the hair on the back of my neck rising. “In this day and age, women can do anything the boys can do.”
“What does she even do besides ride on Daddy’s coattails and spend his money?” she snipes.
“Adrienne works hard, trains hard, and races hard,” Dad replies through gritted teeth. “Which is more than I can say for you. Trust me, Candy, you don’t want to push me on this.”
“You can’t mean that,” she gasps.
“Woman, when have you known me to prevaricate? I mean everything I say.”
“So you’d toss your pregnant wife out into the cold?” she asks. “Just like that?”
“You, me, and the iron-clad prenup all know you wouldn’t leave penniless,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t push me.”
This is like watching a pileup on the interstate, slowly creeping by to see what kind of wreckage is left behind. And if Candy pushes Dad too far, there is going to be wreckage, the kind that adds her name to the long list of record-holding race car driver Adrian Malone’s ex-wives.
The only one to make out like a bandit was my mom, because he loved her so much.
She didn’t want to take anything with her, and she never played games, never used me like a pawn in their divorce.
It wasn’t even messy. It was heartbreaking.
Because everyone knew Adrian loved his wife, Abigail—even the women he slept with on the road.
No one expects athletes, rock stars, and race car drivers to be faithful spouses, but there was something different about them.
When he came home and admitted what happened, she was just done. She couldn’t trust him again.
Mom moved us to another house, and I spent every other weekend with my dad. When I was old enough, I began racing, and she never begrudged me. Mom knew oil ran through my veins, and she knows it now.
I look at Bobby, who seems to be just as uncomfortable watching this drama unfold as I am. I give him a wide-eyed look I hope conveys the we-need-to-get-out-of-here message, but he just shrugs in a so-what-can-you-do kind of way. I guess it’s going to be up to me.
“I, uh… I think I should probably go,” I stammer.
“You don’t have to leave,” Dad says. “This will always be your home.”
“I’ll call you later, Dad,” I reply, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.
When I turn to leave, Candy sneers in my ear, “Crown Jewel, my ass. I have no idea what your father sees in you.”
Bobby follows behind me, guiding me with his hand at the small of my back through the mansion and down to the front steps to where our cars are parked in the circle driveway. The press has been gone for over an hour, and I’m left feeling a little bit foggy. What just happened here?
“It’ll all work out,” he says as I beep the locks on my Dodge Challenger.
“Yeah.” I wish I sounded as confident as he does right now. I knew my dad wouldn’t race forever, but I didn’t think he’d be done so soon. I thought we had more time sharing a banner, much more time.
“You just wait and see.” Bobby pulls me in for a hug that lasts just a little too long and then lets me go.
I nod and climb in the Hellcat and listen to her growl when the engine turns over. I watch him in my rearview mirror as I pull out of the big circle drive, and as soon as he fades from view, I let out a relieved sigh.
Today was too much. Much too much.
I make my way from Dad’s house in Coronado to mine in Torrey Pines.
My home, while not cheap, is a drop in the bucket compared to Dad’s estate.
It’s a Spanish style, two-story stucco home with a terracotta roof that sits on the hill overlooking the ocean.
I’m close enough to see it and smell it, but far enough away there’s a certain amount of land around my actual house that keeps the tourists and beachgoers away.
I hit the button on my remote, and the iron gate swings open, admitting me to my sanctuary.
When I’m home, I relax, because at the track or out in public, I have to be switched on.
I pull around to the four-car garage that sits separate from the house, park, and watch as the automatic gate swings closed again.
I climb out of the Hellcat and make my way to the side door and punch in the code on the keypad listening for the lock to snick.
I push open the door that leads into the mudroom off of my kitchen.
I kick off my heels and hang my keys on the hook before pulling open the fridge and grabbing the open bottle of wine.
When Mr. Liu, Dad’s business manager and publicist, called to tell me that I needed to be at the estate this morning for a family briefing and then a press conference, I was nervous.
I had no idea what Dad was going to say, though the end result was nowhere near what had been flitting through my brain.
Nevertheless, I was still nervous, so I popped open a bottle of chardonnay.
I close the fridge, flip open one of the glass-fronted kitchen cabinets, and pull down a glass before making my way upstairs to my bedroom.
I move all the way through it and set the bottle and my glass on the bathroom counter before I walk into my massive closet.
I slide out of the leather jacket that has all my sponsors on little patches all over it, the one I wear exclusively for press junkets.
It’s actually part of most of the contracts that I wear it for press, since each company has paid for the right to have their name or logo on my body or my car or both.
One even paid extra to have their patch over my right nipple.
It’s ridiculous, but it’s also my life, the one that I was born into, so I accept it and move on.
My jacket gets hung up with the utmost care, but the rest of my clothes are merely discarded where they fall . My flowy black silk tank with the deep vee in the front flutters to the floor of my closet, followed by my charcoal-gray jeans and skinny black leather belt.
I pad barefoot, in only my bra and panties, back to the bathroom where I open the taps to fill my giant tub.
While the water flows and steam billows throughout the room, I pick up the bottle, grab the top of the cork with my teeth, and pull it out before pouring the wine into my glass.
I don’t stop until it’s full to the brim, so much so that I have to lean over to slurp some down while holding my long dark hair back from my face.
I’d spent all morning curling it but now, I need it out of my way.
I stand back up and pin my locks to the top of my head, then shimmy out of my bra and undies.
With my glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, I step over the edge of the tub.
Sinking down into the hot water does little to loosen my tense muscles, I set the bottle down on the floor next to me, because I’ll be finishing it tonight.
If there’s one thing I’m certain of, while the rest of my life feels like it’s spinning out of control, it’s that.
I lie back against the sloped side, lounging as I raise the glass to my lips, and suck back a large portion of wine. I close my eyes against the news that shook the very foundation of my world.
“I’ve decided to retire.”
When I open them again, the rest of the press conference flits through my mind’s eye like a bad dream. If Candy was indifferent to me before, there’s no way she could be anything but hateful after Dad’s stunning revelation.
I’d like to say things will get better from here on out, but I’m not that hopeful. I might be the girl who has everything, but princesses who live in ivory towers live lonely lives.