Damaged Bad Boy Billionaire Sneak Peek

Zander

It's the scent of burnt rubber against asphalt. The squeal of tires around a tight corner and the heat visibly rising off the sun-drenched track. I take a deep breath and accept the chaos of it, flooding my bones with that sense of relaxation I don't get anywhere else.

"His time's improving."

I turn to my left to spot Reiner Beck, one of the race engineers. He gives a tight nod at his stopwatch.

"Down two seconds this lap."

I grunt in response and look at the track as Jesse comes squealing around the corner, too loose and messy. I click my tongue against my teeth as Reiner sighs and throws the stopwatch on the desk in front of us.

"He gets too ahead of 'imself," Reiner sighs, easing into an oil-stained chair. I signal for the lights to change so Jesse will join us.

"He's a kid. He'll grow out of it."

"He'd better," he grumbles. "He's your kid."

I don't correct him as Jesse comes jogging towards us, his helmet in his arms, a giant grin on his face. "Spun out a little at the end there, I know, but my time was down, right?"

I exhale loudly. "Time down means nothing if you're all over the place." I give a curt nod at the car. "Bring it in. We'll talk."

Jesse scowls, but he spins on his heel to go get the car.

Reiner raises his eyebrows. "You gon' let him get away with a bad lap like that?"

"Absolutely not. He's a kid, but he has to learn somehow."

Jesse groans with all the power a sixteen-year-old can possess when he sees me standing by the car with a tub of polish and a toothbrush.

"Come on, Uncle Zander," he says, his shoulders slumping forward. "Look, I was a little off my game today. I get it, but I'll be late for school if I do that, and isn't school important?"

I narrow my eyes. "Not if you're quick about it. You clearly don't know how the car works if you treat it like that. Get to work. You have an hour. Stay clean. You don't want to be late for school after all. School is very important."

I hand him the toothbrush, pat him on the shoulder, and limp towards the garage office.

I rub my leg as I gingerly sit in the squeaky old office chair before sighing at the notification on my phone.

Appointment at Elite Sports Physio–9:30am

I grimace and shove my phone on the desk. What's one more physical therapist to say they've run out of options? What's one more arrogant son-of-a-bitch that thinks they know the exact cure right away only to be proven wrong when I continue to have the same problem day after day?

I get my phone back and look at Elite Sports Physio's website–the latest clinic my dad has set up.

Blah, blah, blah, we work with athletes, blah, blah, we know the body, blah.

I scroll through the list of employees, and my heart suddenly stops for half a second as I sit up straight.

Allyson Peters, PT, owner.

Allyson Peters.

Fuck, she looks better than when I saw her last. She'd been thin and wiry in college, her long legs built for the track-and-field team. She could outrun me easily. The photo on the website is only a headshot, but she looks great. Her hair is a lighter blonde than I remember, but she seems calm and content. It has to be, God, almost fifteen years since I saw her last, just another in a string of people I've loved and left too early.

I purse my lips and decide maybe the appointment would bring some relief after all–just not exactly what my dad intended when he set it up.

"We'll need you back at the racetrack this afternoon," I say as I pull up in front of Jesse's school. He won't be my responsibility for a blissful few hours, although, comparatively, he's a pretty good kid. I hadn't expected to be a sudden dad or a dad at all. In fact, I'd actively fought against being a dad, but at least Jess makes it easy.

"I know, I know."

"We've got a tour coming up. Need you top of your game, okay?"

He gives me a calm grin. "Yeah, I know. It's been drilled into my head. I'll get a ride there. Don't worry about me!" He launches himself out of the car and races towards a group of guys waiting by the school doors. I only recognize one of the guys as Roland, his best friend since elementary school.

I do feel bad that I didn't pay much attention to my nephew as he was growing up. It was only when he was suddenly in my care at the age of twelve that I had to do a crash course in how to parent a pre-teen. A grieving one at that.

As Jesse disappears into the school building, a mess of teenage hormones and pranks, I drive toward Allyson Peters' physical therapy clinic. It's close to an hour away from Anaheim, but if she can do something, I'll gladly make that trip.

I'm halfway through the trip when my phone starts ringing through the car. "Tanner, what do you need?"

My assistant's chirpy, sometimes-irritating voice sounds through my car at a volume I wasn't ready for. "Good morning, Mr. Rhodes!"

I scowl as I get stuck in even more L.A. traffic. At this rate, it'll be a whole extra hour to get to Santa Monica. "Yeah, yeah, get to it. I've got a—"

"The appointment at Elite Sports Physio. I'm aware. I was A, checking that you were on the way, and B, letting you know that Dawn Rillerton from the Bradford Beer Company is going to call in five minutes to discuss sponsorship details."

"Ah. Thank—"

"Have a good day, Mr. Rhodes! What time do you think you'll arrive at the garage today?"

"At this rate? Tomorrow."

Tanner chuckles but is cut off by Dawn calling me. I'm so close to landing the sponsorship deal, ready to officially launch my new team at the end of this upcoming tour. Just need to sign those goddamn papers.

"Ms. Rillerton ," I say as pleasantly as possible, even though someone else has just cut me off in traffic and blamed me for it. "I hope you're calling with some good news. Are those papers signed and on their way to me?"

She pauses for a little too long, and I grip the wheel tightly. "Look, Mr. Rhodes, I— I do apologize. Truly. Everything seemed to go fine, right up until we got the memo earlier yesterday morning."

"Memo?"

"It was sent through this morning from your company."

"I'm afraid I'm completely in the dark on this one, ma'am. It came from us? What did it say?"

She sighs heavily, warping the sound over the phone. "It was advising us on the update to the energy efficiency factor. As I'm sure you're aware, we're an environmentally conscious company, and having low emissions is important to us. We were already on the fence about sponsoring a racing team, but this rise is too much."

I count to five in my head. "I'm sorry to hear that; however, I can assure you that there have been no changes—"

"I apologize again. We won't be able to sign the sponsorship deal at this stage. We can't risk it. We're only a small company, and while we were looking to branch out into the States, it's just a touch too much for us at this time."

I manage a terse goodbye before she hangs up.

I know exactly who is behind that little stunt, and they're about to find out about it. After my appointment with Allyson Peters.

My mind is a mess of anger when I arrive at Elite Sports Physio, and I am furiously texting on my phone to Tanner, trying to work out the best course of action from here. We have three weeks of tour coming up with the intent to name the new team, complete with sponsorships, on the final race. It's been long enough.

We need to find a large-name sponsor and fast.

I'm so busy texting on my phone that I don't realize Allyson has walked into the waiting room.

I lift my gaze to meet hers, and our eyes lock, Allyson's widening in shock.

"Zander," she breathes.

There you are, gorgeous.