12

Mira rubbed at her eyes as the elevator descended to the hotel lobby. She needed caffeine and lots of it, as soon as possible. Testing had been an unqualified success for Lennox, but the first race of the season was a week away, so there was no time to revel in it. This morning, she was up early and headed back to the track to tackle the millions of issues sitting in her inbox.

The elevator doors dinged open and she squinted at the blinding light filling the lobby. She’d taken all of two steps when her eyes adjusted and locked on an imposing figure at the front desk.

No. Oh, no. From the second they’d left England for testing in Bahrain, she’d known this moment was inevitable. It had been seven years—a lifetime ago—but he wasn’t dead, no matter how many times she’d wished he was. Even after she’d stopped pining, stopped grieving, she’d still reluctantly kept track of him.

So far, she’d been so careful, managing to avoid ever being in the same place at the same time as him, which was no small feat when they were circulating in the same small pool of people on the track. But he’d been staying in her hotel this whole week?

There was a time when just the sight of those broad shoulders and that shock of messy, red-gold hair had set her heart pounding. It was hammering now, too, but in a gut-churning combination of dread and panic. Getting to the hotel entrance would require walking right past him. Nope, not happening. Mira ducked to her left, through the door of the hotel restaurant off the lobby. She’d hide there until she was sure he was gone.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Hawley?”

At the mention of Will’s name, she turned just in time to see a gorgeous, curvy waitress beaming down at Will as she handed him a cup of coffee. The waitress’s bright smile flashed against her golden skin, a sleek mass of black hair twisted on the back of her head. Her black uniform dress fit her body far better than those things were supposed to.

She looked like she wanted to offer him a lot more than coffee, which wasn’t surprising. They were out on the circuit now and Will was … well, he was Will. Anything—any one —he wanted would be his for the asking. That near-kiss between them back in London was about to be a distant memory … for him, anyway.

And that nightmare out in the lobby was all the reason she needed to make it a distant memory for herself as well.

She joined him once he was alone. “Morning.” She nudged his foot—with slightly more force than necessary—in greeting.

He’d been raising his coffee to his mouth, and he had to juggle not to spill it. “For fuck’s sake,” he growled. “I almost spilled this.”

She sank into the chair across from him. He was slouched in his chair, wearing his sunglasses, hair in disarray. He was heading back to London for some promo before the first race and had his roll-aboard suitcase with him, so she assumed he was just waiting for his driver to take him to the airport.

“I’m sure she would have brought you another one. Looks like she’d be happy to bring you anything you want.”

He scowled behind his sunglasses. “You can stop at any time, you know.”

She studied him in the morning light. Pale, unshaved, definitely not peak Will. “Hangover?”

“No, I’m not hungover. I just got in too late last night, considering how early my flight out is.”

“Looks like you thoroughly enjoyed yourself, whatever you were doing.” Was she fishing? It sounded like she was fishing.

“I’m off for over a week,” he said, dragging his sunglasses off. “A couple of drinks isn’t going to mess me up. I did not go on a bender, or engage in some drug-fueled orgy, or anything else you might be imagining.”

Really, she couldn’t blame him for celebrating a little. Will had thrown down a hell of a gauntlet in Bahrain. Matteo better watch his back.

“I don’t think my imagination could keep up with you.”

He hiked an eyebrow. “Want to try that out?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. “I promise you, Matteo is in much worse shape than me. And Rikkard got completely obliterated. He’s going to be hungover for a week.” He took a sip of his coffee and let out a small moan of pleasure. The sound had Mira clearing her throat as she looked away. If coffee could make him sound like that … No, she wouldn’t even finish that thought.

“I bet.”

“Like you’ve never had a bad morning after.”

“It’s been a while.” Forever .

“Seriously, you didn’t celebrate at all yesterday?”

She shook her head. “Too much to do.”

He tipped his cup up and polished off his coffee before leaning back in his club chair. “Mira, you missed the most legendary party. It was on a freaking private man-made island , just off the coast. Oil money, of course. The house was insane. Infinity pool overlooking the Persian Gulf. They flew in David Chang to design the menu. I’m pretty sure I saw Jay-Z there.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It was. Even your dad and Natalia came. You should’ve been there. I bet you never left the track.”

“I did,” she protested.

“The hotel doesn’t count.”

She made no reply because he was right. All she’d seen of Bahrain so far was the hotel, the track, and the airport. Yesterday, while the rest of the team had been partying on a private island, she’d been at the office, updating the company calendars and sending out reminder emails about the week’s upcoming deadlines. Even her father had partied harder than she had. Grim.

“You’re about to spend months touring the world. Are you seriously going to work through the whole thing? Bahrain has amazing beaches and shopping, and—”

“Okay, I get it. I promise I’ll take more breaks.”

Will gave her a long deadpan look. Mira met his gaze, determined not to be the first to look away.

“I don’t believe you. Okay, in every city you’re doing one fun thing. With me.”

Yeah, there was no way that was happening, and the reason why was probably still lurking out there in the lobby.

“I’m not sure—”

He held up a finger. “Think of it this way. If I’m hanging out with you, I’m less likely to be getting up to trouble elsewhere, right?”

She thought briefly about the kind of trouble Will had been prone to—hot girls by the score. If letting him drag her through a bunch of tourist traps in foreign countries would keep him clear of that kind of trouble, maybe it was worth it.

“Okay,” she conceded. “If I have time. If you have time.” She was pretty sure he’d get so busy he’d never even remember their conversation. In fact, she was counting on it.

He chuckled. “I’m holding you to that. And believe me, Mira, I have time for you.”