Page 78 of Danger

“How do you know all of this?”

He chuckles, puffing out smoke all around him. “I know a lot more than you think I do.”

“How?”

“Because I went to the source himself. The man who has a story to tell.”

“Who?”

He’s so arrogant which makes me a bit angry. “Just ask Danger about Isabella.” And then he walks away in a plume of smoke, leaving me frustrated as hell.

Who’s Isabella?

* * *

Another stupid dinner,for another race won by Danger and my mood is shit. I hate to say it but it really is. I hate how I feel right now.

After speaking with Ricky, I went straight up to the room and didn’t even attend today’s race. I know petty, but I can’t help it.

I can’t help to think Danger is pinning after another woman, searching endlessly for her. It doesn’t make sense.

It just doesn’t.

If he loves this Isabella with everything he has, why has he been reckless and screwing half the country while searching?

It makes my blood boil just thinking about it all.

I finally come to the conclusion that Isabella isnota past lover, but someone else. Yes, I guess Iamsmart, but come on, he can’t love another woman.

He just can’t. And I don’t think I’m in denial here.

I make myself laugh with my thoughts and then I scour once more.

The ballroom is bright, making my shit mood even shittier. The laughter filling the air makes my teeth grind and I try to pretend I’m not in a bad mood. The main reason I’m so upset is because I’ve finally admitted to myself that I’m in love.

Yes, paint moons and stars and happy clouds across the sky because Monterey Grander has fallen in love. And sure, I’ve supposedly been in love before with Thad Jeffries, but I see now that was just child’s play. It was something that can’t even compare to what I have for Dylan.

It’s scary. And what’s even scarier, is the fact that I don’t know everything there is to know about this man I’m in love with.

That there’s beginning to feel like a big secret he’s not sharing.

And just who the fuckisIsabella?

“Monterey, you look upset. What’s wrong?” my father asks, handing me a flute of champagne, most likely thinking that this simple act of kindness will help cheer me up.

It doesn’t.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking.”

My father’s bushy brow rises. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”

I don’t answer and take a sip of my champagne.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something serious.”

I focus on my father. “What about?”

He smiles wide, his big belly jiggling a bit as he laughs under his breath. “I think you’re finally ready.”

---