24. Austin, Texas

24

Austin, Texas

“The press got some good shots of you with the head of Marchand Timepieces, which is brilliant.” Violet had her arm hooked through Will’s and was steering him through the crowd at the post-race reception for the Circuit of the Americas. “And your agent invited the PR associate who’s in charge of your new line at Velocity. His name is Ryan and he’s a complete wanker, but we’ve both got to be nice to him, so I’ll bring him over when he arrives. If I drink enough before then, maybe he won’t seem like such an asshole.”

Will stopped in his tracks and forced Violet to look at him. “Violet, I’ve been chatting people up for hours. Can I take a break?”

“Darling boy, do you think David Beckham or Michael Jordan never had to stand around making idiotic small talk with a lot of corporate lunkheads? It’s part of how the game gets played, and you have just leveled up in that game.”

Violet always spoke to him like he was a child, even though he suspected he might be older than her. Didn’t matter—she was right. During the gap between Suzuka and Austin, he’d flown to New York to meet with Velocity. They were already his biggest sponsor and now that his season was going so well, they wanted to roll out an entire line under his name. Trainers, track pants, the works. He was about to become high profile in a global way. The accompanying PR circus was pretty odious, but the money would be worth it, and not just for him. Formula One was staggeringly expensive. It was part of his job to do whatever he could to offset some of that expense. Velocity’s money would go a long way toward that.

Ahead of them, he caught a glimpse of Mira heading in their direction. Her hair was pinned up, but some curls had escaped, brushing her face and shoulders. As she ducked between guests, he saw what she was wearing and his mouth went dry. It was a simple black dress—just a slip of silky fabric—but it hugged and hinted at every curve underneath. He suspected there was no bra under there, which sent a powerful throb of desire rippling through his body. Fuck . He wanted to slide those skinny little straps off her shoulders and watch that fabric slither down her body and puddle at her feet. By the time she reached them, he’d almost gotten that vivid fantasy under control.

“Violet, Simone’s got that press guy from NASCAR Nation pinned against the bar, talking his ear off. You might want to lend a hand.”

“The day a NASCAR publication runs a feature on Formula One will be the day hell freezes over. She’s wasting her breath. Besides, I’m on Will Duty.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Violet.”

“When it comes to your PR commitments, I beg to differ.”

Mira shot him a sympathetic look. It was all he could do to keep his eyes on her face, not on her bare shoulders, or the shadow between her breasts at the edge of her dress, or the hint of her nipples under the silk. That dress should be illegal.

“Hey,” he said to her, “we’ve been to three cities without a single adventure. I bet you didn’t even have sushi in Japan.

“I did!”

“The takeout I brought to you at your desk doesn’t count,” Violet interjected.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Adventure time.”

“Not a chance, Will,” Violet said. “You’ve got asses to kiss and I mean to make sure you do it.”

He sighed, his eyes skimming over the sea of older men in conservative suits and their surgically enhanced, expensively highlighted wives. Across the room, he spotted a familiar face, but it took him a moment to place her.

“Hey, isn’t that the woman from those jeans ads back in the nineties?”

Violet and Mira turned to look and spoke in unison.

“Oh, that’s Paul’s ex-wife,” Violet said, at the same time Mira cried out, “Mom!”

“She’s your mother ?”

“You didn’t know Paul was married to Cherie Delain?” Violet said.

Mira stood on tiptoes, waving over the crowd to catch her mother’s attention.

“No, I missed that bit of info.”

Cherie Delain had been huge back in the nineties. The iconic series of jeans ads she did were before his time, but they lingered on in pop culture to this day, and so did Cherie. The woman weaving through the crowd was definitely older, but no less stunning, and that famous head of platinum blond curls was recognizable anywhere. Mira was half her size, with a more delicate face, and her blond hair was darker, but now that he knew, he could see the resemblance.

Cherie Delain was smiling widely, arms outstretched when she reached them.

“Baby girl!” She swept Mira into her arms and hugged her tight.

Mira returned the hug and then pulled back to look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Maybe because he knew her father so well, it had never occurred to Will to wonder much about Mira’s mother, or her life back in LA. Her mother was a supermodel , which made him see that whole growing-up-in-LA thing from a new perspective. No wonder the glamour of Formula One didn’t seem to faze her.

“My darling daughter’s finally back stateside,” Cherie said, beaming down at her. “Of course I want to see you. And I told your dad to keep it a secret so I could surprise you.”

Mira was obviously very happy to see her. They seemed really close, which was a bit of a foreign concept for him. He couldn’t imagine ever being happy to see his parents.

“It’s a very nice surprise. How long are you staying?”

“Just tonight. I have a vendor showcase starting Tuesday.”

“But you missed the race!”

Cherie laughed and rolled her eyes. “You share that obsession with your dad, not me.” She cast a quick glance at him and Violet. “I don’t want to interrupt if you’re working.”

“No, it’s okay. This is Violet, my friend from PR. And this is Will Hawley, one of the Lennox drivers.”

Cherie shook Violet’s hand. “I feel I know you already, Violet, since Mira’s told me so much about you. Glad to finally meet you in person.” Then she turned to Will. “Nice to meet you, too, Will.”

Oh, so Mira told her mother all about Violet but hadn’t even mentioned him? Mira had a real knack for cutting him down to size.

She turned back to Mira. “Can you get away for dinner?”

Mira shook her head. “Sorry, I need to stay with Dad.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Violet urged her. “Go have fun with your mum.”

“But I have to work—”

Her mother cut her off. “Then let’s invite your father and Natalia, too.”

Will got the impression that Paul wouldn’t dare say no to Cherie.

“Okay!” Mira said, her smile brightening.

“Great! Would your friends like to come, too?” Cherie asked, nodding at both Violet and himself.

“Mom,” Mira murmured. “I’m sure Will’s too busy to come have dinner with us.”

“If dinner means I can stop talking about endorsements, then lead the way.”

Violet grabbed for his arm. “But the guy from Velocity—”

“Come on, Violet,” he groaned. “Haven’t I done enough?”

“Okay, fine,” she said with a huff. “I didn’t want to talk to the asshole either.”

Cherie clapped her hands together. “Great, it’s settled! Let’s go find your dad and clear out of here.”