Chapter 7
Molly
I’m huddled up in the editor’s room creating sequences we can use for this weekend when the door opens.
I’m expecting it to be someone from the team, so I mutter a “hello” but don’t bother turning around.
“Should I come back at a later time, sweetheart?”
Christ.
A single sentence, and my nervous system is sent straight into overdrive. These last few days have been a ride of emotions.
Want.
Need.
Fright.
Doubt.
I’ve experienced it all.
Not knowing what to expect from Peter.
Wondering if he’d make good on his promise.
The angel and devil on my shoulders have been arguing, making their cases as I try to wrap my head around my attraction to this man.
Ultimately, I’ve landed on the idea that this has a bad idea written all over it.
But I don’t think I have the willpower to turn him down either if he’s here to continue where we left off on Sunday night.
I spin around my chair, and there he is in all his glory. He looks around the room, noting that we are alone. I feel like I’ve frozen in the chair, not daring to make a move, wanting to see how he plays this out.
When his eyes land on mine, I know this battle is won by the devil.
The angel can say all she wants about this being a bad idea, but the yearning spreading in my body from a single look is enough to shut her up.
“Are we alone?” he asks, taking a step towards me.
“Yes,” I whisper, the smile that spreads on his lips sinful as he gets closer.
When he gets close enough, he grabs a hold of my hand before he pulls me to a standing position, his body close to mine.
“How are you feeling about that kiss now, Molly?”
This man and his need for words.
It’s equally frustrating that it is sexy that he’s too intent on having me all on board.
“We probably shouldn’t,” I say, but my body is telling a different story.
I lick my lips, and Peter places his hand on the small of my back, pulling me even closer to him.
“That’s not what I asked. Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Yes, but—”
He doesn’t need any more confirmation as he slams his lips down on mine.
He pulls our bodies flush together, and when he grabs my thigh, I feel like I’m climbing him like a tree, but I couldn’t care less.
This feels too good, he feels too good.
My hands go around his body, feeling the muscles in his back, whilst the other sinks into his hair, pulling him as close as possible.
When I feel his hard length through his jeans, pressing against me, a small moan escapes.
Peter takes advantage of that, slipping his tongue into my mouth.
My body is on fire.
Peter sets fire to every nerve ending as he drags me with him before pushing me up against one of the walls in the bus.
“Fuck, Molly,” he groans against my lips, coming up for air as he kisses down my throat.
Fucking hell.
I’ll never see this office in the same way again.
Suddenly, we hear voices outside, and we break apart quickly before the door opens, Steve coming inside.
Even though we have some distance between us, it shouldn’t take an expert to understand what was happening in here.
Peter’s hair is a mess, and our clothes are wrinkled from our hands roaming around each other.
“I must say, I didn’t expect this,” Steve says, looking between us, questions written all over his face.
I’m opening my mouth to say that it’s not what it looks like, but I realise I don’t even know what this is.
I just know I didn’t want it to end.
Peter seems to have the label ready.
“This is nothing. Just fulfilled a promise I made,” Peter says, the ever-casual playboy peeking through.
He steps away from me, and it feels like I’ve been punched right in the gut.
Nothing?
This is nothing to him.
Of course it is.
I really shouldn’t be feeling hurt about this.
But I do. Because I was stupid enough to believe that there was more to the man than what you see on the surface.
I guess I was wrong.
He casts me a look, revealing nothing before he leaves, his steps quick as he steps out of the trailer.
I’m grateful.
I need him out of here after the devastating blow he just delivered.
Fuck, how stupid can you be?
Steve takes the hint and leaves shortly after Peter, leaving me alone as I process what just happened.
How could I let this happen?
The realisation that I got played for a second time by the almighty Peter Centimo sinks in. Blinded by our moments together, which my stupid brain tricked itself into believing was something more. But no, I’m just another girl in this man’s belt notch.
I feel like an idiot, being played so effortlessly by him.
Allowing myself to be intrigued by a man I thought had something more to him than the reputation he’s earned.
“This is nothing.”
He could have said anything other than that.
Nothing.
And to top it off.
“Just fulfilled a promise I made.”
The promise to kiss me.
Like it was just another task on his everyday to-do list.
I don’t exactly know what I would have told Steve either, but saying it’s nothing, well, that hurt like a bitch.
At least I know what he thinks about this thing between us.
We’re nothing.
Which is why he’ll go back to being nothing to me as well.
Even if that task will be harder to accomplish than I would like.
～
The initial blow to my ego, which felt like a lot of hurt, has slowly but surely turned into anger.
After our kiss yesterday, I’ve spent way too much time thinking about it.
Even more time on dwelling on how easily he dismissed me when he had what he wanted.
Or fulfilled his promise as he said himself.
As I get ready for the day, I’m filled with determination.
Like hell a man will make me feel anything other than amazing.
If this is how he wants it, then so be it.
His loss.
I look in the mirror, feeling good about doing the little extra.
Whenever I wake up with a hollow feeling, I like to turn it around and make sure I don’t dig myself into a hole.
This all starts with a killer outfit. I’m wearing a tight bright pink dress that falls to my knees, making it appropriate for both work and pleasure. My black stockings and long coat will be my armor against the chilly air in Canada.
If I were a reporter, it might have been a little over the top, but seeing as I’m mostly huddled up in our office, it’s all good. I’ve taken my time doing my makeup, adding some lipstick and gloss to top it all off.
As I make my way out in the sunshine in Canada, I feel unstoppable.
No man will ever make me feel like I’m nothing.
When I reach Jessica, she takes one look at my outfit before her smile breaks out. “Who are we dressing up for?”
Over the last week, I’ve nearly spilled my guts to her on several occasions. It’s only a matter of time before I do, but I need to do so when we’re alone.
“Myself,” I tell her simply, and Jessica is ecstatic about the answer.
She links her arms through mine, and we make our way to the coffee truck, enjoying the heads turning our way.
Even though this is for myself, it feels good to be noticed.
We finish our order and Luke sneaks in, paying for both of us before we have the chance. He kisses Jessica on her cheek, his arms linking around her stomach as he greets us.
I sigh, looking at them.
They’re the perfect couple.
“Hello, ladies. My favourite Star News girls ready for this weekend?”
Our team is well run, and even though race weekend is hectic, it’s always a blast when we pull off another broadcast.
“Yes, so make sure to bring your game, Hastings. We’d like to continue where we left off last weekend,” Jessica says, a dreamy look on her face as she looks up at her man.
We’re obviously doing our coverage as unbiased as possible, but after last season, we all have a soft spot for the golden boy as he spent quite some time with our team in his efforts to land Jessica.
“Of course, princess.”
～
I’ve just finished my workday and am walking down the paddock towards our buses when a mechanic from Audi calls out to me.
I believe his name is Miles, but I’m not entirely certain.
“Hey, Molly, right? I’m Miles, and I just had to seek you out, darling.”
Dear lord, he’s British.
Miles is the picture-perfect image of a handsome man, with short, light brown hair and stunning blue eyes. Add his accent, and most girls would swoon at the mere sight of him.
I wait for the spark, the tingling, anything to appear as he takes my hand in his own, but nothing happens, and I’m devastated.
Please don’t let this be another Jeremy situation. Thankfully, I haven’t run into him since our catastrophic date.
Maybe I just need some more time. Not every interaction with a man is explosive right from the first moment.
Before I’m able to stop it, an image of Peter appears, and our moment in my office as he kissed me senseless.
No, nope, we’re not going there.
We’re moving forward.
And Miles seems to be a willing candidate.
“Hi, Miles. Pleasure to meet you,” I give him a smile, noticing his dimples as he smiles back at me.
Yeah, I could get used to looking at those.
“I’d love to take you out on a date, maybe tomorrow night?”
I know I’ll have my hands full with work tomorrow night, after Qualifying, we always have lots to do.
“That would be great, Miles. But unfortunately, I’ll be stuck at work tomorrow night, but I can do coffee in the morning?”
Coffee is also a safer option for a first date.
With dinner, you’re forced to sit down for an extensive time. Coffee is less stress, and it’s the easiest to do here in the paddock.
“Coffee sounds delightful, darling. I’ll pick you up at nine?”
“Sounds perfect.”
We say our goodbyes, and I call Jessica to ask if she’s staying here or with Luke for the night.
Unfortunately for me, she’s staying with him, so I catch her up and tell her about my date with Miles the next morning.
“Look at you, girl. I’m happy to see you explore your options. It looked like you had lots considering the attention you got today.”
She isn’t wrong.
All day, I’ve been getting looks of appreciation, but Miles was the first one to make a move.
The whole “daughter of a millionaire” story has settled down, but I’m not na?ve enough to believe that this has just to do with a simple outfit and some makeup.
I know people can be out to take advantage of me, or rather, my family.
But I’ll be careful.
Just because the MayWilder name is part of Formula 1, it doesn’t mean I can’t live a little.
And going on a date with a charming Brit might be the perfect solution for getting over the blow from Peter.