Chapter 2 #2
“Returning to what I was saying earlier, Mr. Taylor …” I pause to clear my throat. “Travis is looking forward to working with your company.”
“Is he now?”
I have to lean in to hear his question above the music and murmur of the masked, twirling bodies around us.
“Yes, of course. Please don’t think because he’s not here tonight that means he’s not committed to representing MaxWaters Suits in the most professional manner.
As you may know … oh,” I blurt out in surprise when he suddenly presses a hand to my hip while holding on to my hand, spinning me out before catching me again in his arms.
My breath seizes, at first from surprise, but then we stand there, chest to chest, his gaze searching mine. The moment lasts an indeterminate amount of time before we’re back to dancing in time with the music.
“You’re a great dancer,” I compliment.
Something in his eyes lights up, or maybe it’s just the way the lighting in the room hits his gaze on the dance floor. The portion of his lips that I can see pull back and upward just enough to start a smile but not fully commit to it.
“Thanks,” he says before spinning me again.
I have to work to get my bearings as well as brush off the uncomfortable sensation that threatens to invade my chest. I’m quickly reminded of the article I read that mentions Mr. Taylor’s wife and three children.
He’s also a cutthroat businessman who was able to navigate the company that was on the verge of bankruptcy and irrelevance when he inherited from his father, back into relevance within a half a decade.
Yet, I’m not na?ve enough to believe that all men are faithful no matter how well they’re portrayed in the media. That thought makes me have to tamp down on the sliver of anger that slides into the pit of my stomach.
I take a noticeable step back to create more distance between our bodies.
“About this sponsorship,” he says, I assume because he’s picked up on my discomfort. “You came to speak with me on behalf of your brother.”
“I have.” I plant my professional smile back into place. The one I perfected years ago during my very first internship at a prestigious law firm.
“Travis is aware that with your current team and outlook, your company is looking to capture the next generation of male suit and tuxedo purchasers.”
“I’m certain he is.”
I open and close my mouth, wondering if I detected a hint of … tension.
That couldn’t be. From everything Norm told me about Luca Taylor, he is very open to working with Travis in this sponsorship deal. Though he is known to be a straight shooter and demanding of those who work with him.
“I can assure you at the next meeting Travis will be in attendance.”
“Even with the new season starting soon?” he questions.
Again, that strange sense of familiarity plagues me. My gaze goes over his shoulder once more, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s only ten minutes before Taylor is scheduled to leave tonight’s event.
“Most definitely,” I reply to his question. “Travis thrives under pressure. The previous two seasons are a testament to his tenacity and ability to come out on top despite the obstacles that try to stand in his way.”
I know for certain if there’s one thing Mr. Jamison can bank on it’s my brother. After having the championship stolen from him, Travis came back the next season to win it all, even with a teammate that tried to sabotage him.
“And this season. You believe he will shine just as brightly?”
I push aside the odd nature of the question in favor of an answer. “Without a doubt. Last season was just the beginning of Travis’ winning streak, and I’m sure you want the name MaxWaters Suits associated with his name when he wins his next championship.”
“Confident,” he says, his tone leaving me uncertain of how to take it.
What if I came on too strong?
What if I was too eager?
Right at the moment that I decide to switch to talk facts and figures in an attempt to bring this conversation on home and take one step closer to closing this deal for Travis, the edge of someone’s toe lands beneath the heel of my shoe.
A small gush of air pushes past my lips in surprise as I turn to peer over my shoulder.
“I’m so sorr …” The apology tapers off as the man whose foot I just stepped on raises his Phantom of the Opera mask.
My eyes bulge as I recognize the face of the CEO whose company I’ve spent hours researching and learning about.
“Mr. Taylor,” I say.
A slight smile touches his lips. “It’s quite alright.” He gestures toward his foot and then spins to leave.
Seeing his back turned to me pulls me out of my stupor, and I yank my hand away from the man still holding it. The man in the Phantom of the Opera mask who I thought was Luca Taylor.
When I turn back to face him, he slowly raises his mask.
My eyes bulge and heat infuses my chest.
“You.” My voice is nearly a growl.
Before me, Max Ferrera grins, revealing perfectly pink lips that hide another perfect set of teeth that I’d love to punch right now.
“You’re not Luca Taylor,” I say in outrage.
“You finally noticed,” he says cooly.
“Why didn’t you … you did that on purpose,” I accuse.
Ferrera is my brother’s new teammate this season, and to say the two aren’t friends is a slight understatement.
Ever since Max viciously ran my brother off the damn track years ago while they were both in Formula 2, leading to a very serious crash that broke Travis’ arm, they’ve despised one another.
Which naturally means I hate Max as well.
I’m nothing if not loyal.
He’s a dirty driver.
I don’t know why Drake Horner or the team at Amato thought it would be a good idea to sign him as their second driver.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lies.
I go to argue, but then I remember that the real Luca Taylor has just walked away from me. My eyes move to the clock again. It’s nearing ten o’clock, which means he’s leaving, and I never got to speak with him.
I sneer at Max before dramatically spinning away from him and rushing off to find Luca Taylor to save this deal.