26. PENTHOUSE PARTY
PENTHOUSE PARTY
KARSON
I ran a towel over my damp skin as the knocking on the hotel-room door grew more insistent.
I hopped toward it, yanking on my faded Armani jeans, with one arm halfway through the sleeve of my fresh white shirt as I flipped the lock open.
Dyson shoved the door open and charged in. “Are you ready?” he asked impatiently, dressed in effortless style in a distressed black shirt and baggy designer jeans.
“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec.” I walked toward the mirror as I ran a comb through my still-damp hair and buttoned up my shirt.
The intercom buzzed, Dyson picked it up and reception announced our driver was downstairs.
“If you’re finished applying your makeup, let’s hustle,” he said, opening the door as I rolled my eyes and suppressed a grin.
We made our way to where the driver waited beside the car. As he drove, we tried to guess who might be at the party, right up until he pulled in beneath the hotel’s porte cochere.
The doorman opened our door and directed us to wait at the VIP entrance.
“Now, that’s what I call style,” Dyson said, tipping his chin toward a group of impeccably dressed guys. “Look and learn, baby. You might pick up some tips.”
I nudged him as the manager verified us, and we took the elevator straight to the penthouse.
As the doors slid open, a euphoric EDM beat hit us. We stopped short at the sight of a massive race car ice sculpture.
For a moment, we just stood there and took in the three-dimensional work of art.
“Now that’s what I call style,” I said, chuckling as Dyson shook his head.
A few familiar faces were scattered throughout the crowd… A famous Australian actress—blonde, radiant, impossible to miss—laughed beside one of the veteran F1 drivers.
An action-movie legend stood nearby, his sleek black tuxedo complimenting his dark hair as he talked animatedly to a young tennis player I’d watched at the US Open. The actor swept an arm through the air, demonstrating a tennis swing before they broke into laughter.
“He looks like he’s already sizing up the building for his next stunt,” I said quietly as I leaned closer to Dyson.
“Wouldn’t surprise me at all.” We both chuckled.
My eyes swept around the room, taking in the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, the immense marble staircase winding like a corkscrew to the mezzanine level, and the podiums suspended from the ceiling.
Date palms stretched upward from the floor below, their branches scraping the cathedral-like ceiling above the mezzanine. Waitstaff, wearing signature black-and-white uniforms, wove through the room, offering colorful delicacies from every corner of the globe.
My eyes widened as they landed on a world-famous DJ commanding the booth. He had the place electric, the crowd bending and swaying rapturously, fueled by the hypnotic beat reverberating through the immense penthouse.
Dancers with white flowers threaded through their hair—clad in bikinis and thigh-high boots—clung to the podiums suspended from the ceiling. They arched and swayed precariously as bright streams of light bounced back and forth between them in time to the music.
Champagne spilled by the gallon over the vertical drop of the ten-foot-tall waterfall in the center of the room. At the edge of the waterfall stood a bar stacked with gleaming crystal glasses ready to be filled from the cascading champagne.
I took in the exotic space, fascinated by every detail.
Soaring over us from high above was an enormous gold statue of a falcon balancing on an imposing stone pillar. The golden wings spread out overhead, like a cloud.
“This is insane.” Dyson grinned. “I think I found my forever home.”
“You know, the funny thing, Dyson? It actually could be if you want it to be.” I leveled my gaze, and we broke into laughter as a group of twenty-something girls pushed past us.
My heart shifted to overdrive as thoughts of Ivy flooded my mind.
Even from across the planet, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
No matter where I was, near or far, she was always a part of me.
Like rays of sunlight, she lit up everything in her path.
It was clearer than ever before what I had to do… I had to beg for her forgiveness.
Because we were amazing together.
“Hey!” Dyson shouldered me, tearing me from my thoughts. “Archie’s heading our way.”
Archie, looking sharp in stone-colored ripped cargos and a polished gray T-shirt, waved in our direction as he closed the distance, his hair and skin gleaming beneath the flashing lights.
“Bring it in, boys!” He held his arms out wide.
Dyson stepped toward him. “Archie, my man.”
“Good to see you, bro,” I added as we leaned in, our arms resting on each other’s shoulders.
“Lads! It’s been way too long. From now on, I’ll make sure you have an open invitation.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” We chuckled. Dyson shook his head from side to side. “You were amazing out there, bro!”
“Yeah, I didn’t get totally smashed,” Archie replied. “Diego has been the King for years, but I reckon I can steal his throne next year.” He winked.
“Looks like we’ll be going back again next year, Dyson,” I said with a chuckle. “Congrats, Archie, you deserve it. Man, I’m glad we were there to see it.”
Archie pressed a hand to his heart. “Thanks, boys. I’m really feeling the love, being back with my old crew. It’s been amazing, I’m living the dream. But it’s hectic sometimes. You guys know what it’s like with the paparazzi,” he said, pulling a glass from the stack and filling it from the stream.
“I may have experienced it once or twice, yes,” I replied. We all laughed as Archie and I grabbed glasses and filled them.
“They’re always chasing the next big story,” Dyson chipped in.
“Well, you never let them down,” Archie replied with a lopsided smirk.
“Cheers to that,” I said, tapping our glasses together.
“Hey, where’s my drink?” Dyson asked, lifting a canapé from a passing waiter.
He popped it into his mouth, snatched a glass from the stack, then held it under the cascade. After one swallow, he refilled the glass and took another drink while Archie and I stared at him, grinning.
“That’s better,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, show us how you drivers party.”
Archie laughed, knocked back the rest of his drink, then looking at us, he tipped his head toward the dance floor. We followed him into the thick of the crowd, the music pulsing around us.
A while later, when Diego joined us, Archie yelled over the music as he introduced us.
As we moved between the dance floor and the bar, another guy wandered over and joined us. After saying hi to Archie and Diego, he turned to Dyson and me. “Hey, Callum Rhodes,” he said. “Everyone calls me Cal.”
“Hey man. You’re one of the F1 team owners, right?” I asked him.
“Guilty as charged.” He grinned. A moment later, the conversation drifted to BioBuild, and he quizzed Dyson about the company, making it clear he was keen to come on board as an investor.
“So you boys spend a bit of time in Sydney, huh? We should catch up next time I’m there. I’ve got a little place on the beach near Bondi.”
Dyson and I exchanged a glance. The tabloids had run stories about the ‘little place on the beach’ he’d bought—it had fetched a record price for Sydney real estate.
“We might just take you up on that, Cal,” I told him as the group folded in around us again.
We bunched together, laughing, chatting, and taking way too many selfies. One epic track followed another while the bass pounded through the room, creating an electric energy as we danced into the early hours of the morning.
When sunrise cast the first shards of light through the enormous windows, the upbeat tempo shifted into something softer. On the edge of a brand-new day, I stood transfixed, gazing wide-eyed out the window.
Ivy’s beautiful smile, messy hair, and crazy laugh flashed into my mind, my heart overflowed with longing…
Dyson wandered over beside me. “This has to be the most stunning sunrise ever.” His eyes fixed on the fiery ball of the sun growing larger by the second.
“You know what?” Archie joined us at the window to watch the blazing exhibit. “I think you’re right.” He draped a lazy arm over our shoulders as we gazed out at the fierce orange sky.
It was a spectacular end to an unforgettable night…
Damn. Near. Perfect.
***
Pumped for our upcoming race, Dyson sat behind the wheel of the McLaren, tearing up the highway toward Dubai. “It’s going to be epic racing on that track.” He shot me a sidelong glance. “Try to keep up.”
“Bro.” I arched a brow at him. “You’re going to need a head start.”
We laughed as an emotional hip-hop anthem boomed from the speakers, belting out the lyrics as we barreled along. Ahead of us, the skyline erupted into a forest of skyscrapers, glowing brighter as we sped toward it.
“Fuck yeah!” Dyson rolled the window down, wind tearing through the car. “I love this place.” He gunned the engine, scrunched up his face as he howled like a wolf.
Laughing, I joined in, and we both cracked up. As we caught our breath, the racetrack came into view up ahead.
A few minutes later, we pulled into the car park and headed inside, where the manager chatted with us about the Yas Island race before running us through the safety protocols.
I changed into my race suit, pulled on my boots, then put on my helmet—complete with radio headset—and gloves.
When I walked toward the Lambo, Dyson was leaning up against the Ferrari. I jumped in, kicked the engine into gear, then drifted over to the start line.
Dyson cruised up alongside me. We launched straight into a practice lap, then pulled up beside each other at the start line. He returned the swift nod I gave him as we revved the engines in unison.
“Lights out and away we go.” His car launched forward.
“Go! Go! Go!” I yelled into the headset, slamming down the throttle, and oversteering before the car slid off the track.
Laughing at my rookie mistake, I veered back onto the circuit and tucked into Dyson’s slipstream. The reduced drag gave my car a boost of acceleration as I tried to overtake him.