Chapter 15

Salihaand I decided to lease a car together at each new destination. For the following three weeks, we went to most places together: the shopping mall, nature spots, and out for dinner, though she never accompanied me to sneak into Nix’s hotel room.

With a week off, we’d decided to travel to Australia before the next race, whereas Nix had gone home to France to see his mother after starting the girls’ charity we’d planned. His manager was still absolutely hopeless, but I didn’t mind putting the extra work in when it meant he would get some amazing publicity.

But I missed the sex.

We’d spent the rest of our time in India having very focused and successful ‘meetings’ in any place we could —a smallAirbnbafter an interview, a nature reserve, a meeting room in the hotel. The weeks after, in Kazakhstan, we’d done the same thing—harder.

I was so used to texting him and him appearing in my room or sneaking off to see him in some desolate place.

Across the continent, he still managed to get me off. We made up for the distance with phone calls and dirty pictures.

I now had my own picture of him, thick andgirthyin his jogging bottoms. He had about twenty of me.

That wasn’t the only thing he had sent me, though. The Australian public adored Luca. His model looks and cheeky smile didn’t hurt but on one of our trips to the beach, we had beenpappedhugging. Nix had been the one to send me the shots, finding them on Twitter minutes after they were posted.

I enjoyed his jealousy just a little.

When he arrived on Friday, I was itching to take the car to see him and fidgeted atLuca’sinterview.

That evening, I received a text from him with a location pin.

NIXONARMAS: I’ve booked anAirbnbon the beach. I might have bought some toys too. Come and play with me.

His hotel room had been booked. I knew it because it was next toCris’. The furthest from mine on the corridor.

But withSalihalooking over my shoulder as we walked down the strip of bars, I ignored it. Though I was desperate not to.

I was a girl’s girl. I wasn’t about to start ditching her for some dick.

No matter how good the dick was.

And, fuck, it was good .

The first time I saw him was at the testing circuit on Saturday, but the press were crawling around after one of the riders had gone viral for cheating on his wife. As well as trying to subtly ask questions about Pedro being released and the inquiry intoAlv’saccident.

As long as they didn’t come asking questions about Nix, that was okay. Somehow — and I knew exactly why — Nix and his manager had not consulted me on being sponsored byJustGroupies, a subscription website for celebrity content.

Known in many circles for porn .

The feedback from his first video talking about it had been… mixed. There were a few ‘my man!!’ comments and some women claiming it gave them the ‘ick’. Some commented on how he couldn’t endorse this and try and make a girl’s children’s charity.

The bad boy image he wanted to uphold was not worth the risk.

And I was seething.

The only positive was thatSalihaand I had spoken to the design team forCiclatiand managed to wrangle pinkCiclatitops — I finally had some that actually fit — only because no other team used pink. I’d been desperate to wear something cute for once that I could style. Packing my whole life in a suitcase meant my new series on Instagram was about making a capsule wardrobe, but I itched for something new.

In the back of the pit box, I was tearing apart the plastic, taking my anger out on the bags, and unwrapping the three I had been given to check the sizing when I heard the voices ofCrisand Nixon entering the box.

I stopped rustling the plastic packaging, eager to listen to them, my breaths through my nose harsher just at the sound of him.

“ Well, I had no choice,Cris! ” he said in French. “ I had no choice . He’s my friend and no one knows or saw. ”

No way. No fucking way.

“ He was everyone ’s friend, Nix. But we all had the sense to cut ties.Liviaand I said you couldn’t see him ,”Crissnapped. “ I might have overlooked it but she’s right. You can’t be seen with a previous drug dealer, Nix. Our sport’ s previous drug dealer. ”

I may or may not have brushed up on the French slang for drugs before taking this job. My French was far from perfect and I could comprehend far more than I could say, but I was pretty certain that was what they said.

“You said my name?” I asked, coming out from behind the partition.

Nix stopped when he saw me, his eyes slightly wider than usual. “Livieis about to become Livid,” he groaned and walked away towards his bike.

“Without a doubt,” I said but continued by pretending to be ignorant. “FuckingJustGroupies, Nix? What is that about?”

“It was my manager’s idea. It’s a lot of money.” He didn’t look at me, checking his phone as he walked towards the lockers andCriswent to the sofas beside the screens.

“It’s not exactly working with the new image we’re going for, is it?” I snapped. “A large majority of your fans are teenagers. Children.”

He shrugged, then paused before placing his phone in his open locker. He glanced around us and lowered his voice. “You don’t want me to watch porn?”

I blinked. That was not where I had intended this conversation to go.

“What? I don’t care about that. When you’re an adult, watch all the porn you like.”

But he was smirking, looking down at his feet. “Something tells me you do care about me watching it. Just so you know, none of them could ever turn me on like you do. Get me so hot and bothered and hard and ready to—”

My mouth had dropped open, staring atCriswho was oblivious. “ Nix .”

But I had stepped closer to him without even realising.

His smile grew and I couldn’t help but look at his bike, remembering just how he’d touched me on it .

He caught my direction and chuckled before whispering in my ear, “Let’s stage an argument tomorrow and I’ll eat that pussy on my bike as you can scream at me, scream for me. I don’t care how you shout my name, whether through anger or pure fucking pleasure, Livid. I just love my name on your lips.”

I swallowed and Nix released a cocky breath of a laugh.

This man weakened my knees more than taking a bloody bat to them. I despised being flustered.

But I regained myself. As I always should around this man.

“What friend, Armas?”

He turned his back to me, shutting his locker.

“Which friend?” I questioned, purposely not saying his name this time and following him further to his bike, closer toCris. “Which friend?”

I might not be fluent in French — and I wanted to keep people from knowing about my mediocre skill — but I was certain it was Pedro. The one I’d already warned him about.

“ My friend. Nothing to do with you.”

Nix normally went last for qualifying, but some racers had already started.Lucabeing one of them. It was just him,Crisand me.

“It was him, wasn’t it? The one who came out of prison.”

I knew it, he knew I knew it, but he just needed to confirm it. Admit he was wrong.

Instead, I got another shrug.

I had to hold my fists at my sides, restraining myself from using them — feebly — against him. My eyes closed for a second, I inhaled deeply, but my voice still shook in anger, louder than usual. “Don’t shrug at me. I hate when you shrug at me. No wonder you’ve had someone hired to communicate for you. Speak words, Nix.”

Crissnorted, leaning back on the sofa.

Nix picked up his helmet from the saddle of his bike and leaned over me to snarl in my ear, “I know just how much you love me using my words, Livid. Can still taste how much you love it.”

My whole body tensed, still part desire low in my belly, mostly fury behind my eyes.

“Fuck you,” I whispered through my teeth.

I stormed away up to the VIP lounge. And, though Nix was the second fastest on the course that day, I didn’t notify the public. I posted a picture ofLucaon the beach from the day the paparazzi had caught us hugging.

Nixon Armas wouldn’t learn. Nixon Armas wasn’t worth the risk.

He was a huge mistake. I’d spent half the night reading back through our texts, somewhat fondly and that was wrong because I couldn’t get attached.

Declining his calls was the only control I had. And I had to do it.

My priority here was my job, not some handsome, egotistical rider who wanted to make that job far harder than it needed to be. I was temporary. Relationships between team members were strictly forbidden.

And I was risking this — what I cared for most — on a man ?

It had been a bit of fun. I couldn’t get attached. I deleted our messages.

The weather reflected my mood. The skies were thick with grey clouds, threatening to fall despite the heat. We’d been promised a clear, rain-free race, so I knew the clouds would pass and we would miss the storm.

When we arrived at the circuit,Criswas there in the pit box. “Livia, you seenLuca?”

Nix was already suited and booted, sat on one of the leather seats, bent over on his phone.

“He just went to see Frank about something,” I said, watching Nix’s head rise an inch at the mention of his fellow racer. “He won’t be a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,”Crissnapped, already with his phone to his ear. “Luca! Get over here…”

Abbe was at my side with a sigh. “The weather predictions have changed. Instead ofSprint3then 2 going before,StormSprintwill go first. The rest risk being called off.”

“Ah,” I said with a nod. “Makes sense.”

“I forget how new you are to all of this sometimes,” Abbe laughed. “It’s a lot different to rackets and nets.”

“I prefer it,” I said honestly. “It’s far less complicated. I enjoy watching. Can’t complain about all the travelling I get to do as well.”

“Bet you don’t prefer your client,” Abbe muttered, only half moving his mouth but glancing over at a grumpy Nixon. “He’s miserable.”

“Can hear you,” Nix grumbled, tapping on his phone.

“Put your helmet on then,” Abbe retorted.

Nix gave him the driest look before turning back to his phone.

How far down his list of texts was I now? How many women had he messaged since I refused to pick up?

“As long as he starts to learn some details about Clara, I don’t careanymore,” I said, keeping my voice at the same volume. “Last week, he said she was from America. She has a more British accent than me.”

That dry look turned on me.

Two of the bikes were wheeled to the grid box and, before I knew it, the race was starting.

The first three laps went by without a hitch. Nix was in second place, having kept a consistent pace.Lucahad overtaken two, coming in now at fourth. I knew he’d be fighting for third shortly, but with 21 laps left to go, it wasn’t wise to get ahead of ourselves.

“Clouds aren’t good,” one of the mechanics muttered at my side. “Looking real bad.”

Crisstared over his shoulder at her, then out to pit lane, gave a nod, and the four mechanics sprang into action.

Just as the heavens opened.

The rain pelted the tarmac and the riders. It came down in violent streams. I had to check twice to see if they were hail stones.

Torrential rain.

“The track is absorbing it,” Abbe said, leaning over in his chair, head in his hands as he watched, eyes tracking the bikes on the screen. “Should be okay.”

But within a minute,Criswas muttering, “White flag. White flag.”

As if he was behind the decision, the white flag was flown and the riders came back to collect the bikes prepared for the rain.

“What’s the difference?” I asked as everyone’s tense bodies eased for a minute. “What happens now?”

“Based on where they were in the race when the flag was flown, they return to the grid in that position.”

“Right,” I said, always appreciative of how Abbe told me the facts without patronising me.

Nix was first back, leaping right onto the bike the mechanics had ready. He hardly had time to hear Abbe call after him, “Be careful!”

Lucawas less rehearsed in changing bikes. He lifted his visor to laugh, “This shit is crazy!”

The rain didn’t stop for our quick reunion. With the garage doors open, the rain hit the ground and bounced back into the room. My feet in my slides were drenched. The drains along pit lane were filling with too much water to go down in time.

Yet, they started the race again.

My heart was in my throat as Abbe explained, “Nix is already out for blood. He wants Frank’s bike out. He’ll push it too far, no doubt.”

Nothing to do with me. It had nothing to do with how we were friends. I refused to think it.

“See, when it’s raining, you have to handle the bike differently. Smaller lean, gentle with the throttle, mind the brakes,” he added. “Nix is hardly ever in the mood for gentle.”

He was gentle between my legs. He was capable.

But not today, it seemed.

“Has anyone… has he been offered trauma counselling?” I asked.

The room stilled. For the first time in the seven races so far,Crislooked away from the screen to me. “He was offered it. He wouldn’t take it.”

“Is he normally… like, last season, was he this angry?”

“You’re trying to say it’s because of what happened withAlv?” Abbe asked, head cocked to the side in thought. “I don’t… he’s been more up and down, but… it’s almost been nice to see the ups. There weren’t many before. But the downs also didn’t seem so erratic.”

I nodded and, attention back to the screen,Crisswore, “Fly the red flag! C’estdingue! ” This is crazy.

But they didn’t.

The water spraying behind the wheels of the riders was constant. With every lean around every corner, I winced.

Abbe didn’t make me feel any better. “Nix is fastest on the track. Fucker needs to slow down .”

“Red flag!” Cris shouted into his mouthpiece. “ Drapeau rouge!”

No red flag came. The screens remained on the riders, all battling to overtake despite the weather.

And the worst would be Nixon.

Somehow, the weather worsened, with clouds blackening. There was so much water that the air in thepitboxfelt moist, and the water was slick on the tarmac.

Even I could see the race needed to be called off.

In the stands, audience members started to get up and leave as the rain battered their faces, hunting them until they went inside. It wasn’t warm rain that you could enjoy and run around in as children. No, it was cold, hard bullets that attacked with vengeance.

The red flag was waved.

“Ah, merci putain ,” Cris swore again. Thank fuck.

The riders immediately slowed, no longer having to race. Wherever they were at that point when the red flag was waved was their final position. Frank had won.

“Where’s Nix?” Abbe asked, standing and staring at the screens. “Where’s Nix?”

Because, on the TVs, Frank was riding back, with the rider who was third andLucabehind him. Nix, who had been second, was nowhere to be seen.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Criswas talking into a speaker in French, so fast I could hardly grasp what he was saying. “ Get back! Get back! ” was all I could make out.

“Where is he?” I screeched, grabbing onto Abbe’s arm.

“He crashed,” he said and nodded to the screens that came up with theStormSprintlogo, then a shot of Nix going around the corner, going for the overtake in the hammering rain, wobbling and skidding off the track.

My heart thundered. I could hear it pounding in my ear. The last crash he’d been involved in had led to someone in intensive care. It couldn’t be him.

That couldn’t be our last conversation. It couldn’t.

“But look,” Abbe said and pointed at the other screen. “The flag was flown before he crashed. If he can get the bike back — if it’s not too fucked — he can still claim second.”

“What?” I asked, blinking, because of course that’s where the men’s minds went. The race. Championship points. “On the track? That’s not safe!”

I could hardly listen, hands sweaty grabbing Abbe’s top as my eyes scanned the screen for any sign of him.

“If he goes any way other than the track, he’ll be disqualified.”

This made no sense to me.

The live camera zoomed in on Nix standing, brushing himself off and grabbing his bike.Marshallsjumped over the barrier to help him, but he waved them off, clearly knowing what Abbe had just told me.

Criswas swearing and muttering again. From the sounds of it, talking toLuca. “ Turn around! ” he shouted in Italian.

Abbe sat and put his head in his hands, shoving off his headset. “Fucking hell.”

“What? What’s happening?” I asked, only for the camera angle to change so I could seeLucadriving against the other bikes.

“Speak to them,”Crissaid, passing me his headset. “I’ve had enough of these boys. Maybe they’ll listen to a pretty face.”

I took the headset slowly, my hands almost numb with anger that he would label me as such. A pretty face?

OldLivieresurfaced with red-hot fury and I wanted so badly to let her loose, to remind him of all the hard work I’d put in that wasn’t anything to do with my looks.

But I was still temporary.

The headset was far too big, so I held it tight against my ears. My voice had more bite than I intended when I asked, “Lads, what is going on?”

“Going back for him,Quinnie,”Lucasaid. His voice was muffled.

“Shit, don’t do that,” Nix groaned. He was now trudging the bike back along the side track, the green they weren’t normally allowed to touch with their wheels. I breathed a sigh of relief at the slight safety.

It was bad that my first thought past their health was fuck, that’s a good photo opportunity.

“Too late, pal,” Luca said. “Got you now.”

And there, on the camera,Lucapulled up beside Nix, got off his bike, pulled down his visor and walked alongside him in the pouring rain.

“ Ridicule! Absurde! ” Cris was ranting, pacing up and down.

“Luca, will you lose points for this?”

“Doubt it,” he said and I could imagine the careless shrug he would give.

Abbe shook his head and shrugged when I glanced at him. Had anyone ever done this before?

“Wait, I want to take a photo of you two,” I said, already reaching for my camera while holding one of the headset’s ears flat against my shoulder.

“No!” Nix shouted in the headset. “It’s not safe.”

“You’ll get drenched,” Luca offered.

“You two are already drenched.”

Instead, I watched them walk up pit lane, pushing their bikes all the way.

As soon as they were close enough, I ran out with the camera, snapping shots. I hadn’t looked at any socials, too focused on encouraging them back and stopping any bickering between them.

Lucawas the sunshine. Nix was the rain clouds above.

“Smile!” I called, getting soaked in Abbe’s coat that he’d lent me. Though they were both wearing their helmets, I could tellLucafollowed my instruction, giving a thumbs up.

Nix pulled his off and shook his head of the water that had trickled into his helmet. Fuck, he was a masterpiece.

I snapped another couple of pictures asLucaremoved his, too.

The medics rushed forward as soon as the bikes were handed to the mechanics, ready to check Nix over. He looked absolutely freezing, soaked through.

Lucawas grinning despite looking just as wet, his leathers glistening with water, his blonde hair darker with rain.

That smile died whenCrisroared, “You went back! Why would you go back!”

Lucashrugged, placing his helmet down. “Kept him company. It’s a long walk alone.”

“You could have been disqualified!”

Lucaunzipped his leathers, taking a drink out of the fridge. He cracked it open with an intense stareCris’ way. “Am I?”

“No,” Abbe said, still sat down with his head in his palms. “There’s no legislation on driving the wrong way up the track because no one has been stupid enough to do it.”

“First time for everything,”Lucasaid and took a sip of his drink.

I watched the argument, eyesping-pongingbetween the three of them.

Abbe stood. “You do shit like that again and you’ll be out, boy. It’s bad enough having one egotistical piece of—”

“Go on,” Nix said, stepping around the medic who was checking him over. “Say what you’ve got to.”

Criswas the one to speak. “You pushed it too far! Second place was fine, but you were going too fast. You’re an idiot for trying to overtake on that corner, in those conditions, that fast!”

Nix shrugged, winced and then tried to cover it up by turning away from him. “It’s done now. Still got the points.”

Crisgroaned, shouting some obscenities in French.

“The rest of the races have been called off for the day,” Abbe said. “I think we all need to calm down and have some time alone.”

“Too right we do,” Nix said. “Before someone says something that really fucks me off.”

The medic muttered, “I really need to check him over. ”

I nodded and stood between Nix andCris, who were staring daggers at each other. “Nix, let’s get you checked out and in the warm.”

I guided him out of the pit box into the corridor. He didn’t stop glaring atCrisuntil he was out of the room, the medic following just behind.

In a room off the corridor, she removed his leathers to his grunts and unhelpful manoeuvres. Every now and then, when she touched the top of his left arm, his top lip curled slightly or he flinched.

Topless, shimmering with the rain even across his bare skin, he sat on one of the desks, staring at the blank wall. During the examination, I had gone to get towels to help him dry off but he’d just left them at his side.

“You’re going to need an X-ray,” the medic said. “Your shoulder needs looking at. I don’t think it’s broken, but it needs to be checked out.”

He grunted.

“I’ll arrange the ambulance—”

“No, no,” he said, pulling a face of repulsion, his brows low, mouth in a straight line. “I’m not leaving my car here.”

“I’ll drive him,” I offered. “I’ll drive his car.”

She looked us over with concern. “He needs to be seen today.”

“I promise,” I said. “I’ll drive him there myself.”

Threatening that they’d be expecting him, she left and I sighed with relief when she was gone.

“Well, at least you can’t shrug at meanymore,” I said, sitting beside him. I had to joke because the alternative was telling him how grateful I was that he was okay.

How with the rain pummelling him, I’d been worried even before he crashed.

He didn’t say anything. Just kept staring at the wall.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently, placing a hand on his knee to try to gain his attention. “Are you in any pain?”

“She gave me painkillers,” he said. “They’re starting to kick in.”

I sat beside him on the desk. “What happened?”

“Frank fucking won, that’s what,” he grumbled, still looking away. “I’m not focused.”

“Why—why aren’t you focused?”

He finally looked away from the wall to me. “I’m too busy trying to remember Clara’s favourite fucking colour and animal! Why would I ever care what someone’s favourite colour is?”

We needed to remain calm.

“What’s your favourite animal?”

“A jaguar.” Of course. The logo on his leathers.

“And your favourite colour?”

“Red and green,” he said easily with a frown as if it was obvious.

I gave him a look that only read ‘really?’ “Not everything has to be aboutCiclati, you know.”

“Go on then, what’s yours?”

“Jellyfish.”

He screwed up his nose.

“And pink. If you couldn’t tell. Like cherry blossom pink,” I said and stood beside him to unzip Abbe’s coat and pull my newCiclatitop taught, revealing a little more of my skin than I should. Than I would if it was anyone other than him.

Because as much as we weren’t friends, and he was a major pain in my ass, the sex was insane. In his presence, I was horny all the time.

I could do just sex. Take out the frustration I had with him out on him.

“Mmm,” he said and hooked his good arm around my waist, pulling me to stand between his legs. “You do have a lot of pink panties.”

“I may be wearing some now,” I whispered, head bent to talk in his ear. “Maybe even with a matching bra.”

“For me?” he asked, looking up with those beautiful blue eyes.

I shook my head. “Nope, you’ve been irresponsible, remember? You don’t get a reward for fucking around. I wore them for me. I like to feel put together on race days. Organised.”

He snorted a laugh. “Your organisation covers your underwear, too?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, pulling back an inch with a dramatic frown and pout. “Don’t you want to see how organised I am?”

“Mm,” he said and looked me up and down, his hand already running under my top. His fingertips brushed the boning of my bra. “What if when I see you, I can’t stop? When you drive my car — and I wasn’t lying, it is hot as fuck — I can’t stop?”

“I guess you can earn some type of reward,” I said, pressing further into his touch and running a hand down his muscled chest.

He could wind me up like no other, but when we weren’t talking about work, when he was well-behaved… I couldn’t help how my body reacted to him. How easily I became a puddle of lust.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. “Your body has its own private album on my phone now. I’m glad you can’t see how many hours I’ve spent going through it. ”

I laughed and, with his good arm, pulled him off the desk. “Later, you can prove how much you’ve missed me. Until then, let’s get your arm checked out.”