Chapter 19

Salihaand I had spent three years at university in London naming each night out:MojitoMondays, Tequila Tuesdays,WooWooWednesdays… all for the excuse of loud music, dancing and time with our friends.

After I stopped drinking after my Dad’s death, I’d lost a few of my friends. Our lives no longer aligned.

I wasn’t against drinking.

I just… hadn’t felt safe any longer.

But I felt safe atStormSprint.

This was my first proper night out with the whole team where I wouldn’t be babysitting. At the beginning of the season, I’d gone out with Nix at every opportunity to keep an eye on him.

I swiftly learned that on nights out with his team, he was actually on his best behaviour.

Some of us girls went on pub crawls in the week, but religiously, the riders only went out on Sundays and Mondays. Every city we went to knew this as well. I didn’t expect clubs to be open on those nights, but they seemed to deliver from the Instagram stories and how my friends came home drunk, swaying and slurring.

The exclusive club in Japan was like a light-up warehouse. There was a pit under the stage full of dancing bodies, arms in the air to the quick beat. We overran the VIP lounge upstairs that oversaw the dance floor.

After necking drinks and multiple shots at the hotel, I shouldn’t have continued. But I did.Salihaand I downed another shot of tequila that tore our throats apart but had us grinning at each other like idiots.

Nix, at my back, put his hand on my shoulder and, when I turned, lowered himself to my eyeline. “Are you okay?”

I nodded as my smile became forced. “Fine and dandy.”

I pushed away from him, over to Frank and Georges at the edge, looking down at the dancers. I focused on them, not wanting to catch the fake-not-so-fake relationship over my shoulder.

That and selling my dad’s things…

I pushed my hair off my shoulders and plastered on a fake smile.

At least half of the riders from the three classes were in attendance. A lot of the mechanics, too. I’d had dinner with people fromStormSprintevery night — apart from the secret ones with Nix — but it was the first time I had met so many of them. Every single person was lovely and before I knew it,Salihaand I were swooped down the stairs to the dance floor. Frank watched fondly but kept his distance, letting me know he wasn’t a territorial ass.

But then I looked up.

Nix had one arm folded over the barrier, a lit cigarette in his other hand, watching me with narrowed eyes.

The fury in them was more intoxicating than any of the shots.

Drunk me really, really wanted to throw him the finger.

When a hostess climbed the stairs with a sparkling bottle of champagne, I knew it was for Nix and everyone would be up there cheering for him. I knew Clara would hold onto his arm. He’d pour her a glass.

Maybe she’d kiss him.

The only light that brought me out of my dark thoughts was the sunshine that wasLuca. He danced like an old man with jive hands as he came over to me and my awful, mindless, exhausted moves.

“I’m more of a sit-and-drink kind of guy,” he said in my ear.

Over his shoulder, I noticed Clara walking towards the door in her coat.

“But I missed you up there. Come and drink with us.”

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “The whole of Nagoya needs to see more of your moves!”

He chuckled and spun me around.

His easy smile, the laughter that followed him, the way life withLucawas so easy reminded me of Ben.

I missed my brother.

Nix had returned to the barrier, but three women surrounded him. The four of them were grinning and laughing.

I jerked my head in their direction and, on my tiptoes, asked him, “Do you know who he’s going home with tonight? Clara left already.”

Lucalooked over his shoulder, then levelled me with raised brows and a smirk. “Why?”

“I’m his publicist,” I said with a small smile.

Those brows rose higher. He took my hand and dragged me off the dance floor to a quieter part of the bar. Almost as if the sweaty bodies of everyone dancing energised me, I became overwhelmingly tired and desperate to pee.

“Are you asking as his publicist, or something more,Quinnie?” he asked.

My only response was a blink and an open mouth, ready to speak. Maybe not so ready. No words came out.

He nodded. “Knew it.”

“We’re not—”

“One thing I really value about you is your brutal honesty,Livie,” he said, raising a critical brow. “Don’t lie to me now.”

My mouth shut.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “If you want me to quit, I completely understand. But I’m both of your publicists — both your media managers and I will stay professional and never put him forward for something that—”

“Livie, you best be drunk right now.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t think that for a second.”

“Your manager will.”

He opened his mouth to speak but slammed it shut again.

Because I was right.

“Your manager will demand that I’m sacked.” I sighed, leaning against the wall. “This whole thing, it’s stupid and reckless. I could lose my job. His reputation is built on a relationship that isn’t ours.”

“No, his reputation is based on the fact he’s one hell of a rider.”

That’s what I had to keep on remembering.

My heart rate picked up. “How did you know?”

“Well, someone only needs to see you two fight to see the tension,” he laughed. “And you always eye fuck each other. Then there are all the moments I catch you alone together and feel like I’ve just walked into something. But, that first day, when he opened the door and said about a booty call.”

Thirteen weeks. Fuck. “Right.”

He laughed and pulled me in for a hug. “Liv, it’s all fine. Have fun. Just maybe keep him at arm’s length.”

“I’m not in love with him,” I retorted, defensive.

“Well, I should think not. He’s just… like I said, he’s known for being a great rider, not for his relationships. Remember, you had to get him a fake girlfriend. There’s a reason behind that.”

When proposing the idea, I’d expected him to say he knew who could be his pretend partner. A long-term friend with benefits or something.

“Livie, I don’t mean to be a prick. Just… you’re my friend and he’s… a cheat.”

“He hasn’t had a girlfriend for four years,” I laughed. “He was 23 then.”

Lucabreathed in deeply. “He was seeing a married woman.”

“Sounds like she’s the cheat,” I scolded.

“It’s not— don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just know I’ve got your back,Liv.”

“I appreciate that,” I told him. “But I think Nix and I are over already.”

“Why?”

“It’s not worth it.”

He nodded twice, lips pursed in sympathy as if he had a depressing realisation. “You’re why he’s been having the highs, aren’t you?”

“Definitely not.” The overwhelming need to pee hit me like a brick. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I said and stepped away from him.

“Want me to wait? ”

I shook my head with a smile.

“I’ll be upstairs,” he said but he stayed to watch me enter the toilets.

My heart beat the same rhythm as the bass. The music faded inside, left with just the boom boom boom. A very sobering boom boom boom.

There was nothing quite like sitting on the toilet in a club, drunk out of my mind. This was definitely part of the reason I always went to the cubicles with the girls. We kept the ignorance going, too busy with giggles and pep talks.

I was so very tipsy, swaying slightly with my knickers around my ankles, the skirt of my dress scrunched up around my waist. I couldn’t force myself up, no matter how numb my thighs got. There was no option but to reflect.

I hadn’t been this drunk in ages. Not since—

Not since—

Oh, god.

I wanted to go home. I had to go home.

I steadied my breathing, running through my schedule for the next few weeks. Or Nix’s andLuca’s.

I just wanted to be home.

But, with this job, there wasn’t really one of thoseanymore. Or wouldn’t be for much longer.

Oh god, I’d fucked this up. I’d absolutely fucked it. I should have stayed far, far away from NixonArmas.

Now I was going to lose my job and have to sell all of my dad’s stuff.

I’d lost it all. Everything.

I just wanted a hug from my dad.

Because I couldn’t go back home to go to his grave with my mum and brother. Because even though I’d spoken to my brother about it briefly, I couldn’t talk about it for long.

With the anniversary of my dad’s death, came another. Two events that had changed me for good.

And then, before I could even grab some toilet roll, I was weeping, body rocking with sobs, so hard my stomach hurt.

The girls chatting as they washed and dried their hands felt so far away. It was just the beat of the music, the drier and my slow thoughts as I wiped my tears. I needed a bottle of water and a loaf of bread.Mmm, a bagel and beans. Maybe even a whole English breakfast.

I wanted to go home.

“—Ivie!”

As the hand dryer stopped, I heard half my name and girls protesting.

“Livie, are you in here?”

God, was I drunk enough to start hallucinating? Sat there for so long, I was sure I’d sobered up.

I sorted myself out, pulled down my dress, and opened the cubicle door, only to see Nix standing amongst the sinks, talking to a group of girls. He was gesturing to the height of his shoulder.

The fuck was he doing in here? Could he not get enough women out there?

One of the club-goers pointed my way as I held onto the rail, going up the steps to the sinks. He turned and released a deep breath.

He was at my side in one stride, eyes wide in panic as he surveyed me swaying. “Livie, are you okay?”

“Need to wash my hands,” I said, pushing past him. I wasn’t cold, but the water was lovely and warm. Steam fogged the mirror, but not high enough for me to miss the reflection of Armasstanding at my back.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, that infuriating look of concern still on his ridiculously attractive face.

God, he made me angry.

“Fine and dandy, as I said,” I told him, letting my hands soak up the warmth as the water rinsed away the soap bubbles.

“What is this ‘dandy’?”

I snorted, smiling to myself in the mirror with a slow blink. “I’m just fine.”

“Luca said you’re not.”

“Lucais a meddler.” With pure, good intentions. But still a meddler.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he said.

I squeaked the tap off and turned on him with an incredulous look, brows down, eyes narrowed. I gestured around us. “And you look like a perv in the girls’ toilets.”

Almost as if the steam cleared and he realised where he was, he scanned the room. “Yeah, well, I was worried about you.”

“Gonna be front page news tomorrow. A new low for bad-boyArmas: doing coke in the girls’ toilets.”

He inhaled deeply. “Livie—”

“I’m going to dance,” I said, already walking down the steps back to the dance floor. “I wantSaliha.”

He followed me, quick on my heels. “I’ll help you find her if you join me for a water first.”

I looked at him with heavy eyes. “Pay for me to go home and I will.”

“Home?” he asked, blinking. “England?”

“Yeah,” I said, the music getting louder with each step. “I want to go home.”

“We’re in the UK next week,” he said at my side.

I ignored him and opened the double doors. The music was far louder, a remix that would loosen my muscles.

“If you want to go home now, we’ll get you home. But a water first.”

At the bar, he got us two bottles of water and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. “Let’s go and talk,” he said, guiding me to a stairwell. I wasn’t complaining, my hands in the bag, my mouth already full. The stairwell was cooler than the club and only lit by the window above the door. The strobe lights from the dance floor lit the room for quick flashes before casting us back in darkness.

I sat on the third step up, not offering him the bag.

“I want to talk to you,” he said and crouched before me.

I avoided eye contact, focusing on scarfing down the food in the little light we had.

“Can we?”

I nodded, tried, and failed to open my bottle with my greasy hands. I gave it to him. He cracked it open in a second, removed the cap and handed it back.

After downing half the bottle, I demanded, “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”

He nodded eagerly.

“This was a mistake and we should end it,” I said, looking down at the bottle. “I can’t risk my job. I can’t keep putting out fires for you that you are knowingly igniting.”

He stiffened but was silent, waiting for me to continue.

I didn’t, though, because I hated every word that might come from my mouth.

His brows lowered an inch, but he didn’t look at me. He stood and then sat on the step below me. “A lot to unpack there. ”

He gestured for my phone and I unlocked it before passing it to him. He went on Instagram and signed in to his account. Before doing the same with Twitter. WithTikTok. Every social media account he had.

As he typed his password, he said, “You’re right, I know it. I just— I was defensive because I was worried you would want to end this if someone caught on. I really don’t want to end this. If anything…” He turned to face me, blue eyes desperate. “Do you really think we’re a mistake?”

I went to speak and stopped, instead I took another sip of my drink.

“I like you,” I whispered. “And I’ve just… I’ve been through so much in the last year that I can’t go through any more… any more…”

“Upset?” he suggested, before joining me on my step.

I nodded.

“I have no intention of upsetting you,Livie,” he said softly. “You think you like me? I promise that I like you more. You could upset me a hell of a lot more than I could upset you.” His smile became a bashful grin and he knocked my shoulder with his. Looking up at his beaming expression, he bent to press a kiss on my nose. “Look at us, a couple of kids in the playground talking about our feelings.” He chuckled and snaked his arm around my shoulders.

“Did I… Did I upset you yesterday?”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, brows down, thoughtful. “I did not like the thought of you and Frank together. Not one bit.”

“Because he’s your rival?”

He snorted with a deep laughter. “What? No. Nothing to do with bikes. Everything to do with you. ”

“I said I’d go on a date with Frank when he wins next . I didn’t say he would win.”

“What if he never wins again?” he said into my hair.

I could already feel him rising to the challenge.

With a salty finger, I gestured between us. “I thought this was friends with benefits.”

“No, I…” He looked at a complete loss. There was no hint of anger, just… helplessness. “Am I mad? There’s more here. When you said you wouldn’t come over the other week because you were on your period, I felt like absolute shit. That you thought I only wanted you to come over to have sex. And I have absolutely no issue having sex while you’re on your period,” he rambled. “But I didn’t know if you had cramps or just didn’t want to see me or—” He took in a deep breath and turned to me. “I was a phone call away from sending chocolates and flowers to your room. Like a boyfriend. I want to be able to buy you flowers. I want to see what this is,Livie.”

My voice was hoarse as I covered his hand with mine. “I want to do that too.”

He released a heavy breath and kissed me. A sweet kiss, one less charged with sexual energy than what we were used to.

“So things with Clara can end too,” he said. “Because I know you weren’t enjoying that either.”

“Maybe so, but not so suddenly,” I said. “You were interviewed about your relationship today. ”

He groaned and, arms around my waist, pulled me closer to him on the step.

“Just another month,” I said. “Maybe a little longer.”

He nodded, his head on my shoulder. “So we’re good?”

“ We ’re good,” I said and hated the emphasis I’d put on that word the second I’d done it .

His arm stiffened around me. “Are you good?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I got my contract. Handed in my notice at my flat. Now I’ve got to sell my stuff — all of my dad’s things — and it’s making me feel sick. Sick that I might now lose my job.”

“I’m not letting them let you go,” he said firmly, his hand on my knee. “You’re too good at your job. I’ve never had so many nice comments on my posts. That’s down to you, not anything else. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I am, though,” I whispered, looking at where he touched me. “I’m moving out of my flat. I’m not even going to have a home. Everything I have of my dad’s…”

“Livie,” he said, voice full of worry. “We can find somewhere for his stuff to go. Can’t he take it—”

“He’s dead.”

His hand froze. “Oh,Livie,” he said and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, stroking my exposed skin. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise—”

“You wouldn’t. OnlySalihaknows.” I was good at bottling everything up. A key talent. Power through.

He pressed a kiss into my hair.

“He had Parkinson’s,” I told him. “A year ago. It was a long, long end. I was such a mess. I think sometimes I still am.”

“It takes a long time,” he comforted. “And some days are messier than others,Livie. We’ll find somewhere to keep his things.”

I let myself relax into his side, uncaring for how pissed off I was, just needing the comfort that was him.

I sat up and when he stopped the strokes, I covered his hand, making him continue the movement. He smiled with a short, tired laugh.

A minute later, a hand on each of my knees, he reached over to kiss me.

At first, I didn’t reciprocate. I let him press his lips to mine. I lasted two seconds before parting my lips under his and inviting him in.

Tipsy, the kiss aroused me far faster than normal. I pulled him over me as I leaned back on more of the steps. He covered me, his hands roaming over my dress as he deepened the kiss, getting that perfect angle.

Fuck, I needed him. Right here. In the stairwell of a club.

When I ran my hand up and down the bulge in his trousers, he froze and straightened. “You’re drunk,” he whispered in my mouth.

I shook my head. “I want you. Here. Now.”

But he pulled away anyway. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re drunk.”

“And are you not?” I asked, pulling him closer by the shirt. I pushed my fingers between the buttons to touch his warm skin.

“Not at all,” he said.

His alcohol tolerance had to be far, far higher than mine.

“I consent,” I begged, the pulsing in my pussy making me want to jump his bones. “Please, I consent. I consent.”

I pulled myself up and onto his lap, desperate to show him how much I wanted him. The deep bass was a part of us and our movements.

“Stay with me,” he murmured on my lips as he held my hips. “Stay with me for the rest of the week. Be fucking mine , Livid.”

I kissed him savagely, hands in his hair, tongue licking at his. He kissed me back, taking over, making me his, like he said.