Chapter 10 #2
The doorbell rang, and she heard PJ answer it. A moment later he came in with a vase of pink peonies. “For you.”
“Wow. Very nice. I wonder who they’re from?” she asked. Maybe the brand she’d met with the other day.
She pulled out the card once PJ went back to his tablet to answer some DMs she had received. He screened most of them and provided answers she’d already written to her most commonly asked questions.
She opened the card and saw the printed message.
Thanks for last night. Would you have dinner with me tonight? I’d like to discuss possibly seeing each other again.
Inigo
She read it, then reread it.
What the hell?
They’d already discovered they were oil and water—they didn’t match. It didn’t matter that they went up like flames when they were together. This dance they were playing with each other had to end.
Yet she didn’t want to say no.
She sort of did want to see him again. He had made her see her world in a way that she’d never looked at it before, and though a part of her felt like she was using him, another part was eager to see what would be revealed if she spent more time with him.
Dinner at his place sent a certain message. Exactly the one he wanted her to receive—that he was happy to hook up, but that was it.
He shoved his hand through his hair.
This had stupid written all over it.
But he needed to see if sleeping with Marielle was making him faster. Marco had seen a picture of him and Marielle from the night before when they’d been getting into the car. Apparently, the paparazzi had been watching the door. He couldn’t remember anything but wanting to be alone with her.
Marco had said that he’d had a woman change his driving: his wife. Which made Inigo reluctant to continue anything with Marielle. He hadn’t said anything to his boss about the fact that she had been Jose’s mistress. But Dante had looked up his times later, and they’d notice a slight uptick.
Now that he thought about it, it made him feel sort of sick. Was he really using her because he thought she’d made him faster?
The simple answer was yes. The championship had eluded him for too long. But he also knew that he couldn’t just use her. He had to be clear about his intentions.
God, he felt like his dad. Was it an old-fashioned sentiment? She wasn’t looking for a ring from him. She had her own thing going. She didn’t need him, did she? Sex was just that—sex.
Why did he feel a knot in his stomach at the thought of that?
She’d been different from the beginning. He couldn’t say it was just because he’d ended his self-imposed celibacy. It was more than that.
This was something else. Once again he felt that tension at the back of his neck that warned him this might not be as straightforward as he wanted it to be.
But he wasn’t willing to let go of her if it meant winning.
He’d sent flowers, and she’d agreed to come to dinner.
He had ordered from one of his favorite restaurants, and they had sent over a sous chef to prepare and serve the food in his dining room that overlooked Central Park.
The city was blanketed in snow from a cold snap, and as he looked out the window, he almost had to pinch himself.
Driving had given him this life. It wasn’t like he had grown up struggling. He’d had nice things; his father was a horse rancher and he’d grown up in a world of wealth and privilege. But this was different. He’d earned this. This was his.
His phone vibrated with a message from the doorman that Marielle was here. He texted to send her up and then alerted the chef that they would be ready to eat in thirty minutes or so.
He went to the door to wait for her. She arrived a few minutes later, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail low at the back of her neck.
It wasn’t one of those messy buns that so many women wore these days.
She had on a pair of skinny leather leggings and a soft-looking sweater that hugged the curves of her breasts and made it damned near impossible for him to look away. But he finally did.
He smiled when she waggled both of her eyebrows at him.
“I thought we’d decided last night was goodbye,” she said, walking into his apartment.
“Plans change,” he said. He was thrown into doubt about whether to tell her that she’d made him faster.
He was a mess right now. What if it wasn’t her? He’d been really focused over the last year.
Dante had warned him that he was going to have to be careful about attributing too much to Marielle.
“They do. So...”
“I have a private chef making dinner for us, but can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“Are you drinking?” she asked. “I thought you were sticking to ice water during the racing season.”
“I am. Well, pretty much all the time. Plus, my brother Mauricio has a short tempter, and I found when I drink, I do too. And I saw how destructive that was for him...so I avoid it whenever I can.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “I’m fine with soda water and a twist of lime.”
“Coming right up. If you want to have a seat by the fire, I’ll bring the drinks,” he said.
He’d lit a fire in the fireplace, thinking it would be more romantic than sitting on the couch with SportsCenter playing in the background.
But maybe that would have sent a different message.
He realized he was standing at the bar looking down at the limes that the chef had prepared earlier and wondering how he’d ever thought he could get revenge on her.
He couldn’t even find a way to tell her about how she’d affected him at the test today.
He felt like some kind smarmy dude even thinking about how he would suggest that they hook up so his times could keep getting faster.
“Inigo?”
Startled, he spilled some of the soda water he’d just poured as he turned to her.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “I’ve never seen you move this slow before or be so jumpy. You’re usually moving faster than the speed of light and smooth as hell.”
He handed her the drink after he wiped the glass down with a napkin. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Ooh. I’m intrigued. Is it an indecent proposal?”
He felt his face flush. She threw her head back and laughed. “Okay, let’s hear it. Though I have to be honest and tell you that if you offer me less than a cool million, I’m going to be insulted.”
She always surprised him, never reacting the way he expected. “Money would sully what we have.”
He felt like he was getting some of his mojo back. She made him feel calm...well, horny as hell, but calm inside. And he had to wonder if that was all he needed from her. But why would he turn down sex if she agreed?