5. Eve

CHAPTER 5

EVE

I came awake slowly from a sweet dream, the kind that feels a shame to shake off. I didn't open my eyes at first, hoping I'd drift back to sleep, but I could tell I'd already slept late. Bright light came filtering through my closed lids, the morning sun warm on my bare face. Marco was stirring beside me, not quite awake. He snuggled up to me, sighed, and mumbled to himself.

I became aware of a buzzing, an intermittent vibration. My purse was vibrating. My phone, inside. I winkled it out slowly, not to wake Marco, and by the time I had it, the buzzing had stopped. I had about a zillion missed calls and texts, beeps and boops from socials, old-fashioned emails. I scrolled through till I found one with a picture: me and Marco lip-locked on the steps of the club. He was dipping me like we were dancing the tango, his lips brushing mine, his hand on my thigh. The caption read PASSION, just that, all caps. We were trending on everything , that shot, that kiss, and a mean thrill coursed through me when I saw Rafael trending with us. One of the tabloids had started a poll: me and the driver or me and the prince? Marco was winning by a landslide.

u kidding? their chemistry is Off The Charts

Anyone else think she was the dumper? Like, she told Rafael it was over and THAT'S when he ran?

RAFAEL WHO? MARCO IS HOTTTTTTTTTTTT

you go girl! GET SOME!

I pictured Rafael waking in some five-star penthouse, his own phone buzzing on his bedside table. He'd reach for it, check it, and there I'd be. There we'd be, me and Marco. He'd see I'd moved on. Not just moved on, but I'd done better. I'd snagged his rival, and the whole world loved us. I didn't even feel bad, because why should I? The way he'd left me was as bad as it got, right down to that awful, belittling note. If you had a passion like I do, I'd want you to live it. What in the hell made him think I didn't? That all there was to me was some pretty face?

I turned my phone face down, breathing hard through my anger. The whole point of this was to get past my jilting. To take back my power and get on with my life. But what did I have to really get on with? I didn't want to go on like I had been, letting life sweep me along on its current. I had passion — I did — but when had I pursued it?

I smiled down at Marco, still sleeping beside me. I'd never meant for our dalliance to go this far, but I couldn't say I felt any regret. Last night had been wonderful, and the press did feel good, seeing last week's top story buried by this week's. What would happen, I wondered, if we kept it going? If I was seen out with Rafael's biggest rival? If we were everywhere, and he couldn't escape us? Maybe it would eat at him, and he'd start losing races. He'd lose to Marco, and we'd celebrate.

Marco opened one eye, then opened the other. His lips curled up in a slow, lazy smile.

"Morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

"I had a nice dream." I smoothed his hair off of his forehead. "How about you?"

"Slept like a baby." He sat up and stretched, and I watched without shame. Muscle and sinew stood out as he stretched, the harsh morning light cutting contours like marble. He really was HOTTTTT , with all the T s. I kissed him high on his back, between his sharp shoulder blades.

"We should get breakfast," he said. "This place serves it late."

I realized I was starving and licked my lips. "Breakfast sounds perfect. They got scrambled eggs?"

"They've got everything. That's why I stay here. That's the first thing I check when I'm choosing a hotel: are they going to feed me, and will it be good? You can't have a good day without a good breakfast. And there's no coming back from it when you get a bad one."

"I want bacon," I said, and leaned back on the pillows. "And grapefruit, if they've got it. Or raspberries and cream."

Marco stood, tanned and naked, and picked up the phone. He called down for room service, then went to the window. Sun blazed in his mane of shaggy black hair. I pulled a sheet around me and padded over to join him.

"It's a beautiful day," he said, but he'd turned away from the view. He was smiling at me in my sheet. Taking me in with dark, hungry eyes.

"Gorgeous," I said, and laid a hand on his chest. I petted the scrawl of his springy chest hair. Then we were kissing, then stumbling to bed, and we lay in a sunbeam in each other's arms, lazily teasing in the mid-morning hush. I blew on his earlobe to make his arms prick with gooseflesh, then smoothed it away with the palms of my hands. He felt good to touch and good to be with, strong arms around me, one leg between mine. We fit together like joined puzzle pieces, easy and natural, in our own little bubble.

Marco pulled back just enough to laugh lightly. "I'm naked."

"Me too."

"Our breakfast will be here."

"So I'll throw on a robe, and I'll go get it." I kissed him again and felt him melt into it. He had the best lips for kissing, lovely and plush. I hoped the kitchen was busy and we'd be waiting a while. After this morning, I might not see him again. He'd be off somewhere else soon, his next race, his next girl. But now, and till breakfast, he was still mine.

The knock came too soon, and I wrapped myself in his robe. I let the man in with the breakfast cart, and watched as he unloaded a raft of covered dishes, one after another till the table was full. Marco waited till the coast was clear then peeled himself off the bed, a sheet loosely draped around his hips.

"They found your grapefruit," he said, lifting the cover off the first plate. "Oh, and your berries. Are these the right ones?"

"No, those are blackberries. But they're even better." I plucked one from the bowl and popped it in my mouth. It left my fingers stained with dark juice. I licked them clean, and Marco watched, avid. He took a berry and held it up to my lips. I took it with my teeth, then snaked out my tongue, lapping the juice from the tips of his fingers. Marco made a low sound, half growl, half sigh.

"If I wasn't so hungry, I'd make you my breakfast."

"If I wasn't so hungry, I'd lie down and let you."

Marco uncovered the other plates and steam curled out. They'd brought some of everything, more than we'd ever eat — sausages, pastries, quiches and tarts. Fish, fried tomatoes, wedges of toast. A cloud of the fluffiest scrambled eggs in the world, lashed through with lobster and fragrant green herbs. I took a slice of toast and piled scrambled eggs on it, and broke a crisp slice of bacon over the top. Marco went for the fruit and a sampling of pastries. He cocked his head.

"Is that your phone buzzing?"

I glanced at the nightstand, but he'd left his phone next to mine. Whichever was buzzing, it had them both jiggling.

"I'll get them," I said, as I was closer to dressed. It turned out we were both buzzing, our socials exploding. Marco snickered into a pastry as he checked his.

"Did you see this yet?" He held up his screen. It was us in the nightclub, by the waterfall, our faces all rainbow in its watery glow. Marco was looking at me like I'd hung the moon. I was laughing, delighted, my head thrown back. The caption beneath read FIRST SIGHT OR FIRST SPITE?

"First spite, that's good." He scrolled down for more. "It's mostly about me, nothing bad about you. About Rafael taking first place at Le Vigeant. I beat him twice before that, so where — oh, right here." He traced his finger across the text as he read. " Their storied rivalry goes back four years, to Rafael's unexpected defeat at… Oh, check this out." He held up his phone again — Rafael looking stern.

"Is that from today?"

"He was doing some presser, and they made it all about us. Where did his lips go? Did he eat them?"

Rafael's lips had indeed disappeared, drawn into a tight line of disapproval. Marco swiped so his sour face vanished offscreen.

"I almost feel bad for him," he said. "You think he found out right there?"

"He must've seen on his phone. We'd been trending all night." I felt a little bad myself. Had we gone too far? Marco reached out and slid his hand over mine.

"Hey. He ran off in a horrible way. And he's a sore winner. Did you know that?"

I poured some juice. "A sore winner?"

Marco grimaced. "He'll shake your hand when the cameras are looking, but the minute they're not, he rubs it in. Not in an obvious way, but — but, he's subtle. He'll make little comments, so condescending. I was worried that last lap, thought I saw you in my rearview. "

I shuddered, reminded of his parting note. Condescending was right. He'd always struck me that way, a little aloof. Caught up in himself. I'd blamed it at first on him being a prince, but the more I saw and heard of him, the less I believed it.

"He talked the whole time," I said. "On our first date. He tells a good story, so I didn't notice at first. But when I looked back, he never asked any questions. We were going to get married, and he never knew who I was. Or, he assumed he knew all he needed."

Marco tore his Danish in two down the middle. "You're describing a psychopath. I read a book once. It said they don't see other people as real."

I reached for my phone again, sick of Rafael. I scrolled through instead till I found something better, shots of us roaring away in Marco's Audi, and one just before that, him adjusting my seat belt. Hearts and hug emojis bubbled up when I tapped.

aw he's so sweet!!!!!! doing up her seat belt

look at the way he's locked on her eyes

any more chemistry and they'd explode lol

"Send me that one," said Marco. "I want to save it."

I beamed it to his phone and saved a copy for myself. It was a sweet memory, a pleasant shared moment. I'd felt cared-for then, as I had in his bed. Like for the time I had with him, I was the center of his world.

I reached for more bacon, and our hands brushed. Marco took the tongs and served me the last slices. My heart fluttered wildly, and then he winked.

"You know, I had fun last night. I think you did too. If you want to get more revenge…"

My heart did a backflip. "More revenge? When?"

"Whenever you want me."

I wanted him now , right here on the table. That edge in his voice had my whole body tingling. But what he was offering… now was my chance. I smiled, sly and sneaky, and took a bite of my bacon.

"When do you race next against Rafael?"

"Next month, I think. On his home turf. Spain."

I bit my lip, nervous, and pressed on anyway. "What if we dated the whole time, till then? If we were everywhere, so he couldn't escape us? You could get in his head, and I'd win our breakup."

"Win your breakup…" Marco chuckled. "You're competitive. I like that."

"So what do you say?"

"I say, let's kiss on it." He pulled me toward him. I fell into him, giggling, and we kissed deep and sweet. I didn't stop to think if we were asking for trouble, or what would become of us at the end of our month. I didn't think much beyond God yes, kiss me, and kiss me again, and never stop kissing. And then he was spinning me back to the bed, and it was glorious, and what could go wrong?