Chapter Ten #3
He was wasting time and points, hampered and sidelined by his damned cast. Frustration dug its nails into his soul as the ugly combination of rage and helplessness swamped him.
And because the universe seemed to delight in screwing with him, he’d taken out his anger on Millie earlier.
She hadn’t deserved it—but her simple questions about his brother and father had been enough to set him off.
It was a topic he’d deflected a thousand times before, so why had it pierced through his shell this time? Why had she?
Taz braced a hand against the wall and let his forehead rest against it, his teeth grinding.
Millie was a problem he hadn’t anticipated.
He’d always compartmentalised his life—emotions in one box, sex in another and racing in a sacred safe all its own.
But Millie had smashed some of those boxes, blurring the perfect lines he’d spent years drawing.
She was a walking contradiction: infuriating and fascinating, soothing and incendiary.
She’d painted his black-and-white world with wild streaks of vibrant colour.
He hated it.
He wanted more.
Taz groaned and banged his cast against the wall, shaking his head to clear it.
He’d completed the bulk of the charity events he’d committed to—all with Millie at his side—and only had the ball in Monaco to attend.
In three weeks, he’d be racing again, and life would return to being predictable, and he could focus on winning the championship.
Proving, once and for all, that he was the best driver in his family, the greatest De Rossi to ever race.
The thought left him hollow.
Instead of relief, he felt…lost.
His jaw tightened. Enough. If he was going to survive the next three weeks, he needed to fix the mess he’d made with Millie. Lashing out at her had been cowardly. He hated cowardice; it was wholly unacceptable.
Steeling himself, he slipped into the hospitality suite, locking the door behind him. Millie turned at the sound, her brows arching, her expression cool.
Her outfit was simple—black jeans, a De Rossi team shirt, and high-tops—but Taz’s pulse kicked up. Like two thousand other employees, she wore his name, but at seeing his name above her heart, something primal and possessive unfurled in his chest. He shoved the thought down, then stomped on it.
‘Millie,’ he began, his voice low, careful.
She sipped from her mug, her gaze steady, unwavering. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
Good. He didn’t deserve easy.
‘I was out of line this morning,’ he said, his words clipped but honest. ‘You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have—’
‘Snapped? Stormed off?’ she supplied.
‘Exactly,’ he admitted, forcing himself to meet her eyes. ‘Sorry.’
The tension in her shoulders remained. ‘Apologies aren’t your strong suit, are they, Taz?’ she said, her voice softer now but no less firm.
‘No,’ he confessed. ‘But I’m learning.’
Her lips twitched, almost, but she caught herself, the flash of amusement replaced by wariness.
‘Why did you snap at me?’ she asked, crossing her arms, her vulnerability shielded behind her resolve.
Because you matter too much. Because you see through the masks I’ve worn for years, and I don’t like it. He didn’t say that, of course. Instead he shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets. She studied him for a moment, her gaze piercing, and Taz realised he was holding his breath.
Finally, she sighed, setting her cup on the counter. ‘You’re a mess, Taz De Rossi,’ she muttered, but there was no heat in her words.
His lips quirked. ‘I’ve been called worse.’
Her mouth softened, and for the first time all day, he felt the knot in his chest loosen. He wasn’t out of the woods, not by a long shot, but at least he wasn’t wandering in the dark alone.
Tired, he walked over to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and cracked the top.
‘You’re way too nice, Mils,’ he said, resting the bottle on his forehead. He rolled it across his forehead, hoping the cool plastic would ease his headache. Words he didn’t expect to utter left his mouth. ‘Remember I asked you whether Ben had said anything to you about Alex?’
What was he doing? Why was he reopening this door, edging it open a crack? ‘We didn’t speak about Alex, Taz,’ Millie replied. ‘Our conversations didn’t include a lot of racing talk. What I knew about Alex was what I read online.’
Drivers were normally chatty, sometimes gossipy, guys. Did Ben not talk about Alex because he knew who he really was, and how he spent his free time, when he wasn’t with Meredith or out in public? Had Ben known about the drugs and the young girls? If he did, why didn’t he say anything?
As soon as the thought formed, he had his answer. Because nobody would’ve believed him. Alex was the favourite son of the team’s owner. If he’d criticised Alex, Ben would’ve sounded like he was whining or making trouble and it was a case of sour grapes.
There was no universe in which Ben could criticise Alex and come out with his good reputation intact.
He lifted the water bottle, drank half its contents and forced his eyes to meet Millie’s. He’d tell her the bare minimum, enough for her to understand. ‘I don’t talk about Alex because…’ Shit, this was hard.
He sighed, swallowed and sighed again. ‘Alex wasn’t the person everyone thought he was.’
She looked confused, as he knew she would. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That’s all I can say.’ There was so much more, but those few words felt like someone had poured acid down his throat.
Millie stood, put her cup on the table and folded her arms.
‘Can you give me a little more?’ she asked.
Didn’t she realise that she’d got more from him than anyone since the night Alex died?
That those few halting words needed more courage than barrelling down an endless salt pan in a car made for speed and not safety?
Conversations like these were far more dangerous than anything the racing world could throw at him.
Taz dragged his shaking hand over his jaw, his self-assurance in tatters.
But instead of probing for answers or demanding more, Millie did something that completely disarmed him.
She walked over, placed both hands on his chest and rested her forehead on his sternum.
Her arms slipped around his waist in a tight, wordless hug.
No ulterior motive. No agenda. Just quiet, undemanding comfort.
Taz froze, utterly blindsided. Like last night, her embrace wasn’t sexual or flirtatious—it was human.
And yet his knees wobbled like he’d walked away from a death-defying crash.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered him solace without expecting something in return.
Before his mother died, perhaps? But those memories were buried under decades of grief and loss, hazy with time.
Millie pulled back, tilting her head to meet his gaze, her eyes were soft with understanding. Her fingertips brushed his jaw in a feather-light caress.
‘It must be exhausting always being compared to him,’ she said, her voice a low murmur. ‘I’m so sorry, Taz.’
Her words pierced his armour and burned his skin.
Taz blinked hard, desperate to banish the burning in his eyes.
He couldn’t lose it, not here, not now. Emotion was self-indulgent and useless, a luxury he’d discarded in his teens.
So why was it so damned difficult to push her away?
To create the distance he knew he needed?
A knock broke the spell he was under, a welcome distraction. It jolted him back to the present, and when the door-handle rattled, he remembered he’d locked it. Grateful for the interruption, he strode to the door, unlocked it and yanked it open.
The intern standing in the hallway flinched at his scowl. ‘Uh… Mr De Rossi, they’re waiting for you in the briefing room,’ the young man stammered.
Taz nodded curtly, his jaw tight. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
When the intern didn’t turn and flee, Taz’s scowl deepened. ‘Is there something else?’
The kid took a step back. ‘Uh… Mr De Rossi…uh…the car is here.’
‘The car?’
‘You ordered a car to take Ms James back to the hotel, sir. It’s waiting for her.’
Right. That. He’d forgotten that he wanted Millie away from the race this afternoon.
Yesterday’s impromptu memorial service had been rough on her, and he suspected she was still dealing with the emotional storm.
There were other races she would attend, but there was nothing she needed to do this afternoon.
She did not need to watch the race at the track where Ben died.
‘Give us a minute,’ Taz told the kid and shut the door. Rubbing the back of his neck, he walked over to where Millie stood, clearly confused.
He pushed a long tendril behind her ear and hooked it behind her ear. ‘Go home, Millie. You don’t need to be here.’
She shook her head, her stubborn chin lifting. ‘I can’t, Taz. I have work to do.’
No, she didn’t. Not today. ‘There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow, and I promise not to cause a PR disaster between now and then.
’ He cupped her face, and she pushed her soft cheek into his palm.
‘I don’t want you watching the race. I don’t want your imagination working overtime, for you to think about what happened to Ben.
Go back to the hotel, swim. Fall asleep in the shade on a lounger by the pool. Think about anything but this race.’
Her stunning eyes filled with tears, and a few ran down her cheek. Her hand covered his and she nodded, her bottom lip trembling. ‘Thank you,’ she said, sniffing hard. ‘I didn’t know how to watch the race and not watch the race, if you know what I mean.’
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and roughly pulled her into him, thinking how well she fit into his much bigger body, like a puzzle piece he never knew was missing.
He turned his head to kiss the top of hers.
Looking over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his watch-face and grimaced at the time.
He needed to be down in the pit, at the coalface. ‘Mils…’
She pulled back and bobbed her head. ‘You need to get going,’ she stated, quickly wiping away her tears. ‘Of course you do.’
‘I’ll walk you to the car.’ He really shouldn’t. He was needed elsewhere, but this was…well, this was Millie.
She sent him a look of reproach, the sting removed by her soft smile.
‘And every reporter will wonder why I’m leaving and whether we’ve fought, whether I’m not feeling well, whether—’ she slapped her hands to her face and rolled her eyes ‘—I’m pregnant!
No, let’s avoid the drama, and I’ll sneak out quietly. ’
He didn’t like it. ‘Are you sure?’
Millie nodded. ‘I need a couple of minutes to get my stuff, so you go on.’ He didn’t move, and Millie released a quick huff. ‘I promise you that I’m not going to stay here and work, Taz. I will go back to the hotel.’
She was the only person ever who could even remotely read his mind. And because he saw the sincerity in her eyes, he nodded, then swiped his mouth across hers. ‘Have a good afternoon.’
She smiled. ‘See you later?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’ But he’d be with her as soon as he could. He didn’t know where they were going or how they’d pan out, so he intended to spend all the time he could with her.