Chapter 23 #2
Abrams-Rhea loves to play dress-up with Mia.
She has yet to attend an event or interview without being attacked by a full glam squad first. She has a personal stylist who brings at least a dozen outfit options for each activity.
This week she convinced her stylist to leave two dresses, claiming she wouldn’t make the decision until the day of.
So here I am, squeezed into an eight-thousand-dollar designer gown.
Mia regularly shares her wardrobe with me.
It’s a major perk. Especially considering that most of my luggage is full of work equipment.
Now that I’ll be attending more fancy events throughout the season, I’m even more thankful that we’re similar sizes, even if she’s much more toned than I am.
My bigger boobs, wider hips, and thicker thighs made getting into this slinky red number a team effort.
I’ve already mentally committed to not sitting down until I’m back in my hotel room.
“Did we miss anything exciting?” Lincoln props himself up against the bar, taking in the buzzing room around us.
“Nothing good,” I promise. “There were a few opening remarks, but otherwise it’s been the usual schmoozing and boozing.”
There’s no seated dinner tonight—just heavy hors d’oeuvres and carving stations scattered throughout the ballroom to encourage people to mingle.
“And Luca hasn’t given you any trouble?” Lincoln asks, the words spoken under his breath.
Before I can start to form a reply, he straightens and his energy shifts.
“Oh, shit,” he says. “What the hell? Did I just manifest him?” There’s a hint of panic to his tone. “Heads up, Luca’s heading our way.”
My muscles go rigid, my body instantly on high alert. Three seconds later, calloused fingers grip my elbow.
“Evangeline.” My ex squeezes past, positioning himself at the bar and directly in my line of sight. “Surprised to see you here tonight,” he says without making eye contact. The second the last word is out, he turns, flagging down the bartender.
I glare at his back—at his perfectly styled hair and the broad expanse of his shoulders. God, if I didn’t know it was him, I might mistake him for Alaric.
Not that I’m thinking about my ex-boyfriend’s dad right now.
I’m not.
I can’t.
Focus, Evan.
This is the first time the two of us have interacted in weeks. Luckily, I haven’t seen Luca since that first dinner in Australia. I lift my chin, refusing to cower to him now that the universe has forced us together at a major event surrounded by all our friends and colleagues.
“I work for Granata now,” I tell him. “Just a heads-up, so you aren’t surprised to see me again.”
I belong here. I have every right to be here tonight, same as him.
He turns slowly, dark eyes hard. He does a deliberate, languid assessment of my dress, his focus dragging up and down my body in a way that nearly sends a shudder through me.
He doesn’t get to look at me like that. Not anymore.
He scoffs. “Yeah, I know all about your new little job on my dad’s team. He said you showed up at his house and made a big scene. Basically had a meltdown in the driveway.”
My cheeks flame, shame coiling inside me as emotion clogs in my throat.
That’s not quite how it went down, but his version isn’t too far from the truth. Luca’s awareness of what happened that day rattles me, causing my mind to struggle to come up with an adequate reply.
He always did have a knack for making me sound pathetic.
With a deep breath, I collect myself.
Though I did show up at his dad’s house, I was under the impression I was going to a storage unit that he had already paid for. And the only reason I was there is because he sent me there without any context.
I stand taller and plant my hands on my hips.
“Your dad hired me after we met under less-than-ideal circumstances, but I’m proving myself and contributing to the team like any other employee.”
The bartender brings over his drink and sets it down, breaking the tension.
Mia shifts closer, her bare arm brushing mine in silent support. Lincoln is on my other side, although Stefan was pulled away by someone who wanted to speak to him across the bar.
While I’m thankful for the support of my friends, I’m embarrassed that they’re witnessing this humiliation ritual. I’d like to be done with this conversation now, thank you very much.
Before I can tell Luca as much, he turns to face me again and takes a long swig of his drink.
The cruelty percolating in his eyes is familiar.
So is the slightly unfocused appearance of them.
His cheeks are ruddy with color as well.
He’s drunk, or at least well on his way.
His derisive scoff has me bracing for impact.
“I’m sure you’ll be great at your new job, Ev. Just like every other hobby you’ve wasted time and money on over the years, convinced it was your calling.”
“Hey, man—” Lincoln interjects.
Luca turns on him. “Nice job during qualis last week,” he sneers. “I bet Helios was thrilled to see you start from the pit lane during the third race of the season.”
My friend clamps his mouth shut, his focus shifting to me. We exchange a knowing look: My ex is an asshole on his best day. He’s a supremely callous schemer on his worst. And right now, he appears to be at his very worst.
“I’m fine,” I mouth, excusing him from having to submit to any more of Luca’s antagonistic vitriol. The last thing Lincoln needs is for the competition to worm their way into his head the night before the first practice session.
With a gentle smile at me, he tips his head across the room to where Stefan has joined Saint and Kenji.
I give him a quick nod, silently confirming that he should go. Mia and I will join him soon.
I’d be happy to head there now if I could. I’m not interested in anything else Luca has to say. But seeing as how this is our first face-to-face interaction in weeks, I owe it to myself to put him in his place and remind him that he still owes me a significant amount of money.
Once it’s the three of us, I set my sights back on him. “Don’t be an asshole to my friends just because you’re salty with me.”
He tsks. “Your friends? Really, Queenie? Those are my direct competition, ya know.” Grimacing, he throws back the rest of his drink.
“Did you ever think about how fucked up it was that you palled around with the drivers I had to fight with on the grid every weekend?” He shakes his head, lip curling. “Your friends…”
“Enough, Luca.” Mia crosses her arms over her chest. “Evan’s been my best friend for over a decade. She’s been part of our group since before your balls even dropped.”
I snort.
Mia is all focus, professionalism, and determination until she’s not.
Luca glares at her, his wheels spinning overtime to come up with a retort. He’s drunk, though, and he’s never been that clever. With a little shake of his head, he ignores Mia and focuses on me again.
“I was trying to figure out how this happened,” he says, words slightly slurred.
Shit. Maybe he’s drunker than I thought.
“How and why would my dad hire you? Is Granata’s reputation really so awful they can’t find qualified candidates for their open positions?
Or were you just that desperate to be part of the paddock? ”
Ouch. His words hit a little harder this time, because they’re laced with truth.
At least that last part. Granata had a hard time hiring for my position because it’s not the most glamorous job.
But I was sort of desperate for a place to live and a way to make extra money after he jarringly blew up my life plans by cheating on me.
Still… his assumptions are shallow, and he’s a jerk for droning on like this.
He’s surveying me again, this time his gaze fixating too long on my cleavage.
I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring Mia’s stance. I’ve got great tits on a normal today. Tonight, in this dress? They look fantastic. But Luca Steele has lost the privilege of looking. Just like he’s lost the privilege of wasting my time.
“Get lost, Luca. We’re done here.”
He knits his brows, anger flashing across his face as he locks eyes with me. “We’re not done. I haven’t even told you about my epiphany yet.”
Confusion rolls through me, though he gets to the point quickly.
“Once I talked to my dad, it finally clicked.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “What do you mean you talked to him? Did you talk about me?”
Alaric didn’t mention that he’d talked to Luca. Not that he has to tell me anything.
The asshole answers with a scoff, a nasty smile taking over his expression.
“You should have seen the old man, so quick to come to your defense. It was embarrassing the way he was digging for any details I’d give him. He has it bad. Then you show up here, wearing his beloved Granata red, strutting around this ballroom looking like that? It all makes perfect fucking sense.”
A flush crawls up my chest and neck, understanding tapping at my consciousness. I’m shaking my head and holding back tears before the words even come out of Luca’s mouth.
“I know you’re flighty and will do anything for money. But fucking my dad? That’s low, Queenie, even for you.”