Chapter 19 #2
He signaled the waiter, ordering water for me and something with lime for himself. When the waiter left, he stretched out on his lounger, arms folded behind his head, the picture of relaxation.
“See? No paparazzi, no autograph hunters. Just normal people enjoying the sun.”
I settled back, trying to release the tension from my shoulders. “It’s only been five minutes.”
But for all the sunlight and noise, I couldn’t shake the prickle between my shoulder blades. A sensation like someone's gaze brushed the back of my neck.
I scanned the rows of deck chairs, the glass balustrades, the glitter of skyscrapers beyond, but no one was looking. At least, not that I could see.
A shadow flickered in the corner of my eye, gone before I could pinpoint its source. My pulse kicked, stupidly loud in my ears.
“Relax,” Griffin murmured. “You’re in a five-star hotel, not a spy thriller.”
“Easy for you to say,” I said, scanning the decks one last time. “You’re not the one being stared at.”
“Pretty sure if anyone’s staring, it’s because you showed up looking like that.”
“Charming,” I muttered, forcing myself to settle back.
Griffin turned his head toward me, expression hidden behind his sunglasses. “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you don’t worry enough?”
He laughed. “Daily. Usually its Liam. Sometimes its Al during races.”
The waiter returned with our drinks. I took a sip of water, the coolness a blessed relief against the heat.
“Speaking of races,” I said, “nervous about tomorrow?”
Griffin shrugged. “Qualifying’s the bigger hurdle. Singapore’s all about grid position.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” He took a long drink. “I don’t do pre-race jitters. Bad for the image.”
I studied him, seeing past the casual dismissal to the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tapped against his glass.
“Right. Because image is everything.”
“In this business? Yeah, it is.” He set his drink down. “Julian should have taught you that by now.”
“He taught me lots of things.” I turned my face toward the sun, closing my eyes. “Mostly how to recognize bullshit when I hear it.”
Griffin chuckled. “And here I thought we were having a nice moment.”
“We were. Then you started lying.”
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the gentle splash of water from the pool and the distant hum of the city below. I felt rather than saw him shift, turning more fully toward me.
“Fine,” he said, voice lower. “I’m always nervous before a race. Anyone who says they aren’t is either lying or stupid.”
I opened my eyes, surprised by the admission. “Even after all these years?”
“Especially after all these years.” He took off his sunglasses, revealing eyes that were more serious than I’d expected. “More to lose now. More people counting on me.”
The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard.
“You’ll be fine,” I said, the words inadequate but sincere. “You always are.”
His mouth quirked. “That your professional assessment, Dr. Carter?”
“Just an observation.” I sipped my water. “You thrive under pressure. Always have.”
“Careful.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the sun crept up my neck. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” His grin was quick and devastating. “I’m going to remember this moment forever. Violet Carter, admitting I’m good at something.”
I rolled my eyes. “I said you thrive under pressure, not that you’re good at anything specific.”
“Still counts.”
I shook my head, fighting a smile. This was dangerous territory. The easy banter, the shared laughter, the way his presence beside me felt increasingly natural.
Between us, Hazel slept in her portable bassinet, shaded by the umbrella Griffin had meticulously adjusted three times in the last twenty minutes. We looked like a family enjoying a moment of stolen peace.
“So,” I said, desperate to change the subject, “what’s race week here usually look like for you? Media obligations every night?”
His brow furrowed. “Pretty much. Sponsor dinners, press events, team debriefs. Singapore’s one of the heavier weeks on the calendar.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” He took a long drink. “But it’s part of the job.”
“Right.” I sipped my water. “And after all the official stuff? The clubs, the parties?”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something that looked almost like amusement. “Ah. You’re asking if I’m planning to go out while we’re here.”
Put so bluntly, the question made me flush. “I’m just curious about your usual routine.”
“My usual routine.” He repeated the words slowly, testing them. “Well, normally I’d be staying at the drivers’ hotel, not some discreet place Julian arranged. And I wouldn’t have a sleeping baby in the next room.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” His eyes held mine, challenging. “What did you mean, then?”
I looked away, suddenly regretting the whole line of conversation. “Nothing. Forget I asked.”
“No, let’s talk about it.” He shifted closer, the space between our loungers shrinking. “You want to know if I’m planning to hit the clubs while I’m in town.”
“I don’t care what you do.”
“Right.” His voice dripped with skepticism. “That’s why you brought it up. Because you don’t care.”
I glared at him. “I was making conversation.”
“No, you were fishing.” His smile was infuriatingly knowing. “And since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you. My routine now involves a lot more nappies and a lot less nightlife. Haven’t even thought about it.”
I nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Does it?” His voice dropped lower. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Before I could respond, a group of young women settled on loungers nearby, their gazes lingering on Griffin with obvious appreciation. One whispered to another, giggling behind her hand.
“You’ve got an audience,” I murmured.
Griffin tensed beside me, his easy demeanor shifting, becoming more alert and guarded. He put his sunglasses back on, angling his body slightly away from their view.
“Happens. Hopefully they’ll lose interest.”
“Does it bother you?” I asked. “Being recognized everywhere?”
“Sometimes. Depends on the day.”
“And today?”
“Today I’d rather not deal with it.” He turned back to me, something unreadable in his expression. “Today I just want to sit here with my daughter and not have to perform for anyone.”
The honesty surprised me.
“Fair enough.”
He nodded, some of the tension leaving his frame. The women nearby seemed to have moved on to other topics, their attention drifting away.
Griffin settled back into his lounger. “Where were we?”
“You were being annoyingly perceptive.”
His mouth quirked. “Ah, right. My favorite pastime.”
I reached for my drink, letting the condensation chill my fingertips. “You’re not nearly as mysterious as you think you are.”
His head turned slightly, one eye cracking open behind his sunglasses. “Oh?”
“You act like no one can figure you out, but really, you’re not that complicated.
” I took a slow sip of water. “You love winning. You hate losing. You like attention, but only on your terms. You pretend nothing gets to you, but deep down, you care more than you let on.” I arched a brow. “Shall I go on?”
His lips twitched. “By all means. This is riveting.”
I set my glass down. “You push people away before they can get too close. You say things you don’t mean so no one looks too closely at what you do mean. And when you actually feel something, you pretend you don’t.”
Griffin hummed. “Interesting theory, but you’re wrong.”
My brow furrowed. “About what?”
Instead of answering, he pushed himself upright and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He leaned forward, closing the space between us inch by inch. The shift brought him too close, his body angled toward me, his face hovering just above mine, stealing the air between us.
I should have sat up, created distance before this became something dangerous.
But I didn’t.
Because his sharp and knowing gaze pinned me down, like he could see straight through every carefully constructed wall I’d built between us.
Because for one dizzying second, I thought he might finish what almost started on the plane.
And I didn’t know if I had the will to stop him this time.
His voice dropped lower, almost a murmur. “I don’t push you away.”
A shiver rushed through me.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stayed there, close enough that I could see the faint line of stubble along his jaw, the sun-lightened strands of his hair.
“I’m not running from you, Vi.” His voice was steady. Certain. “You’re the one holding me at arm’s length.”
My fingers curled into the towel beneath me, muscles locking.
I should have argued. I should have denied it, deflected, thrown it right back in his face.
But I couldn’t.
Because he was right.
I’d spent the last twenty-four hours pretending this tension between us didn’t exist. Convincing myself that Hazel was the only thing tethering me to him, that whatever was brewing between us would fade the second we stepped back into our normal lives.
But normal didn’t exist anymore. Not while I was trapped in his orbit.
My gaze dipped, almost without permission. To his mouth.
And the bastard smirked. Slow. Knowing. Unbearably smug.
Heat rushed up my neck, but before I could gather the composure to so much as snap at him, he leaned back, stretching out like the moment had never happened.
Like he hadn’t just left me teetering on the edge of something I had no business wanting.
“When you’re ready to stop pretending,” he murmured, lazy and confident, “you know where to find me, Princess.”
My teeth ground together at the nickname.
Or at least, they should have.
Because the truth, the one I refused to say out loud, was that it had stopped bothering me weeks ago.
But only when he said it.
I released a slow, shaky breath, staring at the spot where he’d been a second ago, my heart still knocking against my ribs.