Chapter 7

I swerve the car to the oncoming traffic lane as a delivery truck unexpectedly stops in front of us on Canal Street, my car handling the shift in gears and transition smoothly despite the rain splattering on the windshield.

“Oh my God!” Anna shrieks, her eyes squeezed shut as she grips my hand tightly on her lap, her fingernails digging into my skin.

Horns blare and bright headlights flash at us as I weave the car seamlessly between oncoming traffic.

“I’m going to die. I’m going to die,” she mutters. “I don’t want to die. This is supposed to be my year of yeses, not my last year on earth. Why did I do this? Why did I get in his stupid car? Because he’s hot, huh? Are you stupid? ”

I swallow a laugh as I hear her prattle with the fervency of a monk praying before his deity on judgment day.

Beeeeeeep.

With one hand, I turn the steering wheel sharply right, squeezing my car in between another racer’s red Porsche and a semi.

Her nails dig in sharper and I wince. That one will bleed. “I promise I’ll go to church and pray more. I won’t order well done steaks at restaurants. I won’t dog-ear my books anymore. Please, just let me survive this!”

Chuckling, I squeeze her death grip. “You’ll be fine. I have everything under control.”

I maneuver the car into another strategic position as I hang a sharp right onto West Street. The car hydroplanes and drifts, the burned rubber smell of the tires scraping the wet pavement fills the air .

This is where the fun begins.

Her eyes snap open as the world flies around us in a blur of lights and sounds.

“You’re holding my hand! What the fuck? Why are you holding my hand? Don’t you need it to drive? ”

“Technically, you held onto it and never let go. I only meant to reassure you when the race started.”

She drops my hand like she’s burned and claws the center console.

“Careful there, that’s the juice.”

“What juice? Why are you thinking of juice right now?” She lets out a squeak.

Seeing a clear path with no cars, I hit the tiny red button her hand was close to and the engine’s roar transforms into a thunderous bellow, my hands gripping on the vibrating steering wheel as we’re thrown to the backs of our seats.

She screams, her hands covering her eyes. “Forget I asked! What’s this smell? Is there an issue with the car? We’re crashing, aren’t we?”

“It’s nitrous oxide,” I holler above the noise. “That’s the juice.”

The dark waters of the Hudson River to our left blur into a sea of black as we speed past the High Line, Hudson Yards, and other glittering, iconic buildings, my car at one with my movements, handling the road, the unpredictable weather, the other racers, and the traffic effortlessly.

“I don’t think I can ever look at juice the same way again. I’m going to throw up.” She mutters something else under her breath.

“Open your eyes!”

“What!”

“Feel the speed, the freedom! Open your eyes!”

“No freakin’ way! You’re crazy !” She clenches the door handle, her eyes squeezed shut so tightly they appear to be glued together.

“Year of yeses, right?” I toss her words back at her as we whiz down the street and I see 44 th Street ahead.

Adrenaline races through me as the car reaches maximum speed .

Almost there. Sweat gathers on the back of my neck and I fake a right to the racer next to me. He slams on the brake as I straighten the car, my hand shifting gears, listening to the engine sing its beautiful melody to me, the purring a masterpiece that’s as lovely as classical music.

Fuck yes.

Anna is silent as I make the last right on 44 th Street, minutes away from the finish line in front of Grand Central Terminal.

Glancing at her, I find her eyes wide open, her mouth forming a cute little “O.” She’s sitting up and clearly marveling the streaks of golden lights from the streetlights cascading with the neon colors of various signage—real life avant-garde art one can only experience in the thrill of the race.

Grinning, I spot the race girls holding up red flares in front of us—the finish line. An enormous crowd is gathered on the sidewalks and I speed right past them, my foot lifting off the accelerator, and the car slowly cruises to a stop as I hear cheers erupt behind me.

My body is on fire—a glorious high from the race, the beautiful woman sitting in my car, and me taunting my old friend, death. It’s the feeling I’ve been missing this past year.

I’m a victor, not a loser.

I’m not broken.

“So, what do you think?” I ask.

I shift the car into park, watching the crowd running toward us in the rearview mirror.

Her panting breaths are loud in the silence. She turns toward me, her mouth still propped open. “You’re absolutely insane .”

I bark out a laugh as she struggles to maintain an angry face. Her lips twitch and she gnaws on her plump bottom lip again. She’s nervous, but in a good way.

Heat unfurls in my gut and travels south as my eyes zero in on her luscious lips.

So plump and red. I’d give anything for a taste .

My nostrils flare and I find myself leaning toward her despite the warning bells blaring in the back of my mind, a desperate reminder I’m going to be engaged next month to a woman I’ve never met. But my heart races, every muscle in my body rioting with the need to touch her and taste her.

Fuck it. I’m Silas tonight, not Maxwell. I’m free.

She sucks in a breath, a pretty pink flush creeping up her slender neck to her pale face. Her eyes flutter shut.

“We have a winner!” the announcer yells behind us.

I flinch, backing into my seat. Her eyes open and travel to my face and the shade of pink deepens on her smooth cheeks.

What am I doing? This can’t happen. The curse. The arrangement. This is wrong.

Seeing the crowd closing in on us, I can feel the beginnings of suffocating anxiety seeping into the cracks of my psyche, polluting the glorious high I’m on right now. The prickle of nausea curls in my stomach.

She furrows her brows and rolls her lips inward, her movements drawing my attention away from the crowd.

I’ve hurt her feelings.

Somehow, that thought is unbearable to me.

Cocking my brow, I ask. “Ready for your next adventure?”

Her eyes bug out. “W-What? Where?”

I shift the car into gear again and drive off, leaving the fans behind in a cloud of dust.

It’s then I realize I didn’t have an anxiety attack next to this stranger. There’s only the righteous pounding of my heart in my chest.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.