Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
VIOLET
The first thing that hit me was the heat. Thick, humid, the kind that clung to skin like a second layer of clothing and made you instantly want a second shower.
We rushed from the jet to the air-conditioned car, Griffin sliding in beside me with a contented sigh like he’d just been handed a pint. The doors shut with a solid thunk, sealing us into blessedly cool air, and for a moment, I just breathed.
“God, that’s good,” Griffin murmured, tipping his head back against the seat, eyes closing.
“Aren’t you meant to be acclimatizing?”
He cracked one eye open, smirking. “Yeah, I’ll start tomorrow.”
“Maybe you should walk to the hotel.” I grinned. “Get a real head start.”
His smirk widened. “What, and let you have all this luxury to yourself?” He gestured vaguely to the car, stretching his long legs out.
I shook my head, looking out the window as the city lights blurred past. Neon against glass, everything sharp and bright, like the entire place was buzzing with adrenaline. It had that pre-race hum, the kind that crept under your skin, winding tighter by the hour.
Or maybe that was just me.
I felt like I’d downed four espressos in quick succession.
I was wired, jittery, my pulse ticking too fast. Fully rested, there was nothing to distract me from the way Griffin’s thigh pressed against mine in the cramped space of the car.
From the way the scent of his cologne made it impossible to ignore how close we were.
All because of an almost-kiss that shouldn’t have happened.
I should have been relieved that Hazel interrupted. Grateful, even.
So why did disappointment curl low in my stomach every time I thought about it?
Griffin shifted beside me, drumming his fingers lazily against his thigh. A slow, calculated rhythm daring me to react. “You’ve got that look again.”
“Which one?”
“The one where you’re trying to logic your way out of something you don’t want to admit.”
“Maybe I just like thinking,” I said, keeping my gaze locked on the blur of city lights outside.
Griffin laughed, low and knowing. “You like control. Thinking just happens to be part of the process.”
I turned my head, narrowing my eyes. “And you like pretending you don’t think at all.”
His grin was slow, effortless. “Because it winds you up.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Which was exactly why I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting. I crossed my legs, my knee brushing his, and turned back toward the window.
“Whatever it is, Vi.” Griffin leaned in, voice dropping just enough to make my pulse tick out of rhythm. “Let it go. You’re not gonna fix it by overanalyzing it to death.”
My jaw clenched, but before I could argue, the car pulled up to a sleek and gleaming hotel. It had barely rolled to a stop before the doorman pulled the handle, letting in another rush of humid air.
I slid out, more than happy to escape Griffin.
I took Hazel’s travel carrier with me and rushed toward the hotel doors without waiting for him, desperate to escape the humidity.
The hotel doors parted smoothly, spilling cool, perfumed air over us.
The lobby was grand with vaulted ceilings, marble floors polished to a mirror finish.
Everything designed to be impressive without trying too hard.
Griffin strolled in behind me, unfazed, and made a beeline for the front desk. I followed, ignoring the burn of awareness still crawling up my spine.
The receptionist greeted us with a professional smile. “Welcome to Singapore, Mr Michaels.” Her fingers skimmed over the keyboard. “We have everything prepared for you.”
“Great. Two keys?”
The receptionist nodded, sliding them onto the marble counter. “Of course. Your bags will be brought up shortly.”
Griffin took one without hesitation, flipping it between his fingers. “Cheers.”
I grabbed the other and turned for the lifts. The place smelled expensive, all fresh orchids and something faintly citrus in the air. I’d grown up in places like this.
So why did I feel so off-balance?
Griffin stepped in beside me and pressed the button for the twenty-second floor. The doors closed, trapping me in the confined space with the last man I should be anywhere near.
The lift hummed upward, too slow. I curled my fingers around the keycard in my palm, already imagining swiping it through the lock, stepping inside, and closing the door on him.
Because whatever had made me reckless enough to almost kiss him, it ended the second I got inside my room.
Griffin leaned back against the lift rail, rolling his keycard between his fingers like he had all the time in the world. “You’re tense.”
I didn’t look at him. “I’m awake.”
Not just awake. I was aware.
Too aware that I knew exactly how he got at this hour: too chatty, too at ease, too open and willing to share, like the late-night quiet made him shrug off his mask and let glimpses of something real slip through.
Like I’d gotten comfortable with him in ways I shouldn’t have.
I shifted Hazel’s carrier in my grip, fixing my eyes on the floor number ticking up.
It didn’t matter. It’s nothing.
Except it wasn’t nothing.
I did not kiss drivers. I had spent my entire life surrounded by them, knew exactly how they thought, how they acted, how they expected the world to move for them.
And yet some traitorous part of me that had no business existing was wondering what would have happened if Hazel hadn’t woken up.
I clenched my jaw, gripping my keycard tighter.
“You sure you’re not overthinking something?”
“I don’t overthink.”
He tipped his head. “Sure. And I don’t race cars for a living.”
I turned my head, meeting his gaze head-on. “I think just enough.”
His smirk deepened, but he didn’t push further.
The lift chimed, and I stepped out before he could get another word in. At the end of the hallway, I swiped the keycard and stepped inside, desperate to get into my room and shut him out.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline behind the living area. A deep sofa, armchair, sleek coffee table, and a dining setup for two took up the space. Two doors branched off the living room and I made a beeline for them.
Griffin wandered further in, stretching like he already owned the place. “Nice.”
The left door opened into my room. It had everything I needed. King bed. City views. Space.
I set Hazel’s carrier on the bed and stared at the wall separating my room from Griffin’s.
One wall.
That was all the distance between us, and it didn’t feel like nearly enough.
Hazel let out a sharp, irritated cry.
The door swung open without warning, and Griffin walked in. Shirtless. Because of course he was.
My brain stuttered.
Broad shoulders. Defined chest. The kind of body that made fitness magazines beg for cover shots. The faint trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his joggers.
My stomach dipped.
“I got her,” he said, snapping me out of my daze as he headed toward me.
Oh, for God’s sake, Vi. Get a grip.
I blinked, forcing my eyes up to his face. “Did you knock?”
“You didn’t answer.”
But he side-eyed me as he picked Hazel up. So no, he hadn’t knocked.
I ground my teeth. “What happened to going straight to sleep when we got here?”
“I was unpacking.” He adjusted Hazel against his bare chest, completely unbothered. “Chill. I’ll sleep once we’re settled.”
“You need rest.”
“I’m fine.” He swayed slightly, rubbing circles over Hazel’s back. Her cries dropped to whimpers.
My jaw clenched. “I had it handled.”
“Sure.”
“I did.”
He just kept swaying, calming Hazel while I stood there feeling like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
Which was ridiculous. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Give her back.”
“She’s settling.”
“Griffin—”
“Vi.” He glanced up, and his expression was maddeningly patient. “Go to bed. I’ve got her.”
“That’s not your job.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“I’m her nanny.”
“And I’m her father.” He turned toward the door. “Get some sleep.”
“No.” I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Hand her over.”
He stopped, brow furrowing. “Vi—”
“You said you wanted time with her before the race weekend started. But if you let her interfere with your prep, it’s never happening again.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s not interfering.”
“You’re supposed to be sleeping and adjusting to the time change. Tomorrow you need to start acclimatizing. You can’t do any of that if you’re struggling with jet lag because you chose to stay awake with a crying baby.”
“I can handle one night.”
“Maybe. But you won’t handle the race if you’re exhausted.” I held out my arms. “Give her to me.”
“She’s almost asleep.”
The sooner he remembered I was the nanny, the better for both of us.
“Then it’ll be easy for me to take over.” My brows rose and I took a step closer. “You dragged me halfway around the world so you could have this. Don’t waste it because you’re too stubborn to let me do my job.”
He stared at me for a long moment, Hazel quiet against his chest. Then his shoulders dropped and he carefully transferred her into my arms.
“Fine,” he muttered.
“Thank you.” I adjusted Hazel, grabbing her bag. “Now go to bed.”
He hesitated at the door, looking like he wanted to argue.
“Bed. Now.”
His mouth twitched. “Bossy.”
“Part of the job.”
My bedroom door clicked shut and I let out a breath, rubbing slow circles over Hazel’s back as I reached for a bottle.
One wall between us. I could still hear him moving around in there. Could picture him climbing into bed, that infuriating smirk still on his face.
I pressed my forehead against Hazel’s.
Six days.
I could survive six days.
Probably.