Chapter Seven
LATER THAT NIGHT, Millie left the second bedroom in the hotel suite—apparently sharing a suite was part of the devil’s deal she’d agreed to—and crossed the lounge area to the streamlined galley kitchen, hoping to find some hot chocolate.
If she could find whisky, she’d add a slug, hoping the liquor would help her get a few hours of sleep.
She’d been prepared to return to her own hotel room, but Taz had other ideas. When he’d ordered her to move into his suite, she’d protested—loudly and quite vehemently—but he wouldn’t budge.
‘Are you looking to give the press a story?’ he’d demanded. ‘The world expects us to share a suite. I expect us to share the suite.’
He ended their discussion by calling an intern to arrange the collection of her belongings and move them to this suite twenty floors up.
This was the first time she’d shared a living space with a man, and Millie would’ve felt uncomfortable with a non-celebrity, someone normal. Sharing a fantastically expensive suite with Taz, incredibly famous and ridiculously good-looking, felt surreal.
How was she supposed to handle this? Handle him?
Dressed in loose and comfortable pink-striped pyjamas, she heated some milk and tried to loosen the tension in her shoulders and neck.
It had been a long day, and she’d have a longer one tomorrow…
or was that later today? Either way, she had a raft of meetings, including an appointment with the stylist Taz kept on retainer.
He was flying in from New York courtesy of Taz’s private jet, with a vast range of clothes, shoes and accessories in her size.
She and Taz had agreed that, while she was on the track, she’d stick to black jeans, her high-tops and De Rossi–branded shirts, but when she accompanied Taz to his charity appearances, she needed to look like someone he’d date.
Sophisticated, cool, at ease.
Everything she was not.
Millie dashed a shot of expensive whisky into her drink and walked back into the lounge area, dropping to sit on a too-low backless couch in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The lights of Miami spread out before her, and she wished she could head down to South Beach, take in the Art Deco buildings, and experience some street food.
As Taz’s press liaison, she’d been able to fade into the background, slipping around the press coterie with nobody noticing.
But as Taz De Rossi’s girlfriend—his brand new, unexpected and highly scrutinised girlfriend—she couldn’t take a step without having a press pack on her heels.
They were a bunch of hyenas, looking for an angle, hoping for a soundbite as they shoved microphones in her face.
They made her feel disoriented and exposed.
She’d seen the pictures from the press conference earlier, which were now online, and she barely recognised herself. Wide-eyed and pale, she looked like a terrified deer frozen in the headlights of a sixteen-wheeler truck. Young. Vulnerable. Out of her depth.
Being with Taz wasn’t for the faint-hearted. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and if she was going to survive this, she had to find some courage and learn how to play the game. And she didn’t have any time to waste.
Taz’s reputation and a million pounds were at stake…
It was so much money. While he was alive, Ben quietly sponsored up-and-coming racers, and after his death Millie had established a charity in his name to continue that tradition.
After the courts had told Ben’s parents that she was his legitimate heir, Millie moved the many millions she inherited from Ben to the charity’s account.
Eight or so years later, she still got a kick knowing there were drivers on the F3 circuit who wouldn’t be there had the charity not stepped in to help.
Ben, she knew, would approve. After all, it had been his dream.
She’d also inherited his London flat and a car, so she didn’t need the money that Taz was paying her.
She planned to donate that to Ben’s charity as well.
It seemed the right thing to do.
And for a million pounds she could and would fake confidence, channel sophistication and play the part of Taz’s perfect girlfriend.
But with publicity came the risk of her parents sliding back into her life to take advantage of her and her newly acquired fame.
How long would it take for her parents to hear about her dating Taz?
Not long, she decided. They’d quickly find a way to leverage her connection to Taz.
What form would that take? Would they fly into Miami?
Start dropping his name everywhere they went?
Sell their story to a tabloid on the flimsiest of pretexts?
When it came to her parents, truth never stood in the way of good publicity.
That was part of the reason she’d stayed away all these years.
She didn’t want that life. It had damaged her already.
A part of her wanted to call it quits, to retreat, but then she’d lose the chance to find herself in this world that Ben had been such a huge part of.
And wasn’t she done, or trying to be done, with allowing her parents to influence how she lived her life? Millie heard the snick of an opening door. She turned, sucking in a sharp breath when she saw Taz step into the lounge, nude but for the cast of his wrist and a pair of black sleeping shorts.
His chest was incredible—broad, lightly dusted with dark hair, and tapering to a stomach showcasing his defined six-pack.
Every inch of him, from his thickly muscled shoulders to his strong, sinewy arms and long, sculpted legs, screamed raw, masculine power.
He was, quite frankly, a work of art wrapped in impossibly tempting packaging.
Her mouth went dry looking at him, so she took a hurried sip of her hot chocolate, hoping it might restore a little moisture and distract her from the bedroom-based thoughts racing through her mind.
The expensive whisky made her catch her breath, and she spluttered.
‘Millie?’ he asked, in a rough-with-sleep voice. ‘It’s after two. What are you doing up?’
She lifted her cup. ‘I couldn’t sleep so I made myself something to drink. I hope you don’t mind.’
He ran a hand through his messy hair. ‘That’s fine.’
She grimaced. ‘I also helped myself to what I think is very good whisky. Whisky that isn’t meant to be added to hot chocolate.’
He walked over to her, taking the mug from her hands. He sipped and grimaced. ‘I’ll have a whisky without the hot chocolate.’
‘Want me to get it for you?’ she asked. They might both be in their sleepwear, but she did work for him.
‘I’ve got it.’
Millie tried not to react when Taz sat next to her, heat rolling off his body. She thought about asking him to put on a T-shirt, but then he’d know she’d noticed his body. No, it was better to keep her eyes on the lights of this amazing city spread out in front of them.
‘Are you in pain?’ she asked, wondering why he was awake.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulder lift and fall. ‘It’s more annoying than uncomfortable.’
‘Why can’t you sleep?’ he asked, lifting the heavy crystal tumbler to his lips.
It was her turn to shrug. ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind.’ She was still trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened today.
‘Maybe we should talk about how we are going to act when we are together at these charity events,’ she said, placing her mug on the floor at her feet. Along with backless couches, the decorators responsible for these expensive suites didn’t like side tables either.
Sometimes less was less. And impractical.
‘I’m not a fan of standing in the spotlight. I don’t enjoy having eyes on me,’ Millie said, biting the inside of her cheek.
Taz leaned back on his elbows and looked at her. It took all her willpower to keep her eyes on his gorgeous face and not take a lazy stroll down his fantastic body. He’s your boss, Millie. Half-dressed boss and a short-term fake boyfriend, but you can’t forget that he is your boss.
‘How do you think we should act, Millie?’
She didn’t know. That was why she was asking him. She threw her hands up in the air. ‘Are you going to hold my hand, put your arm around me…?’ She wanted to ask him whether he’d kiss her too, but her tongue wouldn’t form the words.
He looked at his glass, frowning when he saw it was empty.
Grateful for the reprieve, Millie snatched it from his hand, walked over to the small bar and poured him another two-fingered shot.
‘Should you be drinking this with painkillers?’ she asked him, handing it over.
Their fingers brushed and electricity erupted on her skin.
Dammit. With everything else that was happening in her life, why did she have to be so attracted to the man as well?
‘Well?’
She frowned at Taz. ‘Well, what?’
‘How do you know what standing in the spotlight feels like? Are you an influencer or the aristocratic daughter of an earl? The girlfriend of someone famous?’
‘Ha, no. As if.’ But he wasn’t too far from the bull’s-eye. Should she tell him who her parents were? It hadn’t occurred to her before, but perhaps he deserved to know who he was getting involved with.
He leaned forward, rested his arms on his thighs and dangled his hand holding his glass between his legs. ‘How do you know?’
He wasn’t going to drop the subject. If nothing else, she should tell him about Ben, before he found out via someone else. Secrets were difficult to keep in any workplace. ‘I’m the daughter and niece of pretty famous actors.’ She gave him their stage names and recited some of their popular roles.
Taz frowned, his razor-sharp mind making connections. ‘I met them, years ago. Through Ben Brennan.’
It didn’t take long for him to connect the dots to Ben. Would the final piece slot into place? His gaze sharpened. ‘You’re related to Ben, aren’t you?’