Chapter 13
Max
I’m grateful for many aspects of my chosen career. Being able to travel the world is one of them. Affording me the opportunity to travel to Japan, during cherry blossom season, specifically.
Yes, I’m a sucker for the angelic pink leaves that grace this land for only a short few weeks out of the year.
It’s as if the highly delicate blooms are playing hide-and-seek with us.
Those of us fortunate enough to catch their stunning allure are remain in awe and left wanting until we get to see it again.
This, and not the potential sponsorship interview Edwin scheduled, is why I chose to arrive in Japan early.
The interview turned out to be a bust, to which Edwin responded by asking me if I wanted to meet some acquaintances of ours at a club that stayed open late in the city.
A club I’ve been photographed coming out of more than once in my career.
I have no doubt the owners like to make a show of professional athletes and well-known names frequenting their establishment.
I passed on the offer. Instead, I chose to take a walk to stretch my legs after my long-haul flight to observe this year’s crop of blooming cherry blossoms.
This reason and more are what has me walking the streets of Tokyo and into Asukayama Park at night. I didn’t think much of it when I heard voices up ahead on the pathway that I’ve chosen to stroll. Between the Grand Prix and spring, the influx of tourists is inevitable.
Except, as I get closer, my spine straightens and my eyes narrow in on a woman who’s turned, facing off against the three men who stand before her.
Dressed in a light blue and white pantsuit, I notice that her feet are slightly parted and knees bent, hands up in front of her but not quite balled into fists.
I don’t have time to give my feet the directive before they swallow the distance between us. She’s in a defensive stance, which means she feels threatened.
It’s not until I’m a few feet from them that my eyes widen and anger takes over my whole body.
Annalise.
I recognize her at the same time I hear one of the guys calling her a bitch. I don’t hesitate, pause to gauge the situation, or flinch as my fist crosses the bastard’s jaw.
He goes down.
I bark out my order for them to leave before either one of the two standing assholes can figure out what happened. The stunned expressions on their faces relays they aren’t much of a threat.
Two dipshits who were following the wrong mate.
I scowl as I watch them help their friend up and profusely apologize for bothering my girlfriend, before they trip and stumble over themselves to create the distance I’ve just demanded.
I don’t move a muscle until they’re at least twenty feet away and no longer looking back.
“Bastards,” I grunt.
“I could’ve handled that on my own.”
Annalise’s words pull my gaze back to hers, and I narrow my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing out at night by yourself?”
That probably isn’t the right thing to say at the moment, nor is the harsh tone I asked it in, but I’m livid and can barely see straight. She put herself in danger out here all alone.
I also notice she hasn’t dropped her defensive stance just yet. A piece of me is almost proud. But that’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t have to defend herself if she wasn’t by herself in a park in the middle of the night.
“It’s not the middle of the night,” she replies when I express my thoughts out loud.
“It’s barely ten o’clock. I was—” She stops, shaking her head as if coming out of a spell. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. What are you doing out here at night by yourself?”
“This isn’t about me,” I say, still seething. “What the hell? Your date couldn’t bother to walk you back to your hotel?”
The questions come out of nowhere. All I feel is anger mixed with something I shouldn’t feel.
Concern.
Fine. Concern isn’t that bad. I would hate to see any woman alone being attacked or yelled at by three men. I would’ve intervened if the harassed woman was a total stranger. Every woman deserves to be protected.
My father taught me that.
But something about seeing this woman being bothered and called a bitch, still has me wishing I had followed through on my threat to pummel all three of those assholes into the pavement.
“Let’s go.” I don’t wait for Annalise to agree when I take her elbow into mine and guide her in the opposite direction that those fiends ran off to.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She struggles to shake my hand off of her but it’s not happening. She’s already proven that she can’t be left alone.
We still have a couple of hours before the subway shuts down, but I can call a taxi to get her there.
A whiff of her breath hits my nose and I sniff the air.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Didn’t realize drinking a few rounds of sake was a crime,” she insists.
“Not only were you out alone and unprotected, but you’re inebriated as well.” I push out a breath and bite back the growl that tries to crawl out of my throat.
“Inebriated is a stretch,” she says while still wiggling to get out of my grasp. I’m certain that I’m not holding on to her tight enough to be painful or leave a bruise or anything. However, my hold does force her to keep up with my long strides, which she does surprisingly well.
Even in the four-inch heels she has on.
“What do you call it then?” I don’t look over at her because I can’t. I don’t know what I’ll do if I look at her right now. The heat rising up the back of my neck tells me it won’t be anything rational.
“Having a drink at dinner with a friend,” she retorts. “Like a normal person.”
I grunt. “And he couldn’t be arsed to walk you back to your hotel? Perhaps you need to choose better.”
I grind my teeth at the thought of a man inviting a woman out to dinner in a foreign country and not, at the very least, ensuring she gets home or to her hotel in proper fashion.
What type of arseholes does this princess date?
“Why the hell would you assume it’s a him?” She tries to pull her arm again, and I think about letting her go.
I don’t. Her question, however, does penetrate the irrational part of my being that refuses to let her out of my grasp. Was it a man she was out with tonight?
Does Annalise date women? As soon as the question enters my mind, I dismiss it. Once I overheard Travis’ new wife making a comment about playing matchmaker for Annalise with one of the other drivers.
My chest heats in anger as I remember hearing Annalise call Jules Dubois, one of the drivers from Arena, cute.
I tut. Fucking cute.
A grown man. Nevertheless, it means she at least has a mild interest in men, so it’s a probability that she spent her evening with one. A loser who’s nowhere in sight to protect her, leaving her to be accosted by a group of losers with nothing better to do.
“Hello?”
I blink.
“I said where are you taking me?” she asks when I look down at her. Her hazel lenses burning in anger nearly hurt to look at. Almost like peering directly into the sun.
“Home,” I reply without thinking.
I keep walking, eating up the pavement with my long strides. Though my stride is fast, Annalise continues to easily keep up even in those heels.
Heels she wore for some wanker who couldn’t bother walking her back to her hotel.
Her scoff penetrates my ears at the same time she finally tugs free of my grasp. I curl my fingers into a ball to stop myself from reaching out for her again.
“How did you know which hotel I’m staying at?”
Her question catches me off guard until I look up to find we’re standing in front of my hotel. I hadn’t even thought about where I was leading her. Forgot to stop and ask where she was staying. All I wanted was to get her out of that park and as far from those wankers as possible.
“This is my hotel,” I admit, my anger only beginning to subside.
“Coincidence, I suppose.” She shrugs and turns her back on me to go inside. It’s not really a coincidence since there’s a short list of hotels drivers typically stay at in the city.
But I don’t like her walking away from me, so I follow.
“What floor are you on?” I ask, catching up to her at the second the elevator doors open, hopping in with her.
“None of your business.” Her retort would be her gotcha if she hadn’t already pressed the number eight, in an attempt to close the doors in my face.
My floor is nine, but I don’t mind taking the stairs up after I walk her to her room. I stand in the corner of the elevator, watching her with my hands in the pockets of my jeans. She intentionally avoids my stare, tapping her foot impatiently.
Unashamed and unbothered, I allow my eyes to traverse every part of her face.
Everything from her unblemished skin, to the myriad of freckles that paint her cheeks and bridge of her button nose, to her incredibly full lips.
She’s chosen a pale pink color to wear tonight, and I wonder if the bastard who allowed her to walk home alone appreciated the effort she put into everything from her makeup to the way she tamed her fiery curls into a braid that stops a few inches below her shoulders.
Of course not. He couldn’t appreciate it if he allowed her to walk home alone.
The first time I saw her with Travis, all of those years ago, I was confused when he introduced her as his sister. It took a second look to see the family resemblance since Travis has neither red hair nor freckles. But all it takes is a knowledge of their father to see the resemblance.
Annalise gets her freckles and red locks from his side of the family.
“Why are you following me?” she tosses over her shoulder when her efforts to shake me as a tail fail since I’m only a foot behind her.
“Doing my part to show you what a proper escort entails?”
Her dark brows furrow in confusion.
“Unlike your date,” I clarify.
She huffs and throws up her hands almost as if in defeat. But I know better. She isn’t the type to be bested. Least of all by the likes of me.
“It wasn’t a date,” she blurts out, frustrated. “I had dinner with a friend and went for a walk in the park after to clear my head. Is that a crime?”
I open my mouth to answer but she doesn’t give me space to reply.
“No, it’s not a damn crime. Not only that, but it’s messed up for you to be pissed at and blame me for being harassed by those guys. I don’t know if you’re living in the last century or what, but women have the damn right to walk around without being accosted.”
The words I was going to say die in my throat.
She’s right.
Other people’s behavior isn’t her responsibility and it’s not her that I’m upset with. I find the idea of any woman being harmed abhorrent. The thought of this woman getting hurt at the hands of a random group of guys enrages me.
That is until I peer down at her flared nostrils, reddened cheeks, and flashing eyes. My anger settles, and the knowledge that Annalise was probably very capable of handling herself against those guys comes to me all at once.
She had been prepared in a defensive stance, ready to take on the ringleader. My gaze drops to her shoes. Even in heels I don’t doubt that he never stood a chance against her.
“You’re right,” I say, my anger finally, finally deflating.
Her eyes balloon, lips press together, and her eyelids lower as her eyes track right to left. A freckle I’d never noticed before at the center of her left eyelid catches my attention.
I stare at it as she, it seems, is at a loss for words. A minor chink in the exterior of the princess that always has the perfect comeback.
“Yes.” She nods as if confirming to herself, first. “I’m right. Besides, you probably should get to bed or something. You have a busy next few days.”
Is that concern in her voice?
The question unintentionally escapes my lips, and as soon as the words are out, Annalise’s hand is on her hip.
“Concern for the team,” she reiterates.
“Right,” I say sarcastically. Not because I necessarily think she’s concerned about me performing well, but because I can’t help myself from goading her, pushing her since something inside of me wants to see how far I can go.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” She turns toward the door behind her.
“The better I perform, the worse chances your brother has of winning another championship." I don’t know where that came from, but it appeared the second I thought of her disappearing behind her hotel door.
Turning back to me, she makes a disbelieving sound with her mouth.
“Please, you are the furthest thing from a threat to Travis.”
Red descends over my gaze as I step closer.
“What did you say, princess?” I snarl.
“Jealousy is the green-eyed monster that mocks the meat it feeds on,” she says casually, her tone uppity.
“Is that another one of your movie quotes?” I step even closer, unwittingly dissolving the space between us.
She pulls a face. “Aren’t you British?”
“Half,” I answer, though I rarely claim my Brazilian heritage. Mostly because I don’t need to since everyone knows who my father was and because I grew up in London.
“You should know one of the greatest plays ever written by the foremost playwright.”
“Shakespeare fan,” I reply.
“I don’t trust anyone who isn’t.”
That’s the last thing she says before my lips are on hers. Do not ask me how we got from my dragging her back to her hotel, kicking and screaming, to me kissing her, but here we are.
I take a second to allow myself to savor the pillowy softness of her lips against mine. The gasp of surprise she lets out parts those pillows for me, allowing me the briefest taste of what’s inside.
I can’t take full advantage because almost as soon as it started, the kiss ends.
Annalise’s hand presses against my chest, pushing me away. Heeding her refusal, I pull away, although everything inside of me desires more.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she whisper-yells.
The tone of her voice—her rejection—snaps my brain back online, and I realize what the hell I’ve just done. I take a step back.
The moment I do, an irrational anger comes down over me.
“Right,” I say tersely. “I have to remember that I’m not good enough for you.”
I turn on my heels and head straight for the staircase, calling myself an arse for the bullshit I just pulled all of the way to my room.