Page 118 of Racing for Redemption
Violet
His head rests heavily on my shoulder, a weight I’ve missed without realizing it. His warmth and smell resembles coming home. I keep my eyes forward, scanning the room of industry players who would love nothing more than to catch Colton Racing’s CEO and Team Principal in a compromising position with her driver. The champagne buzzes pleasantly in my veins, making it harder to remember why I’ve kept him at arm’s length these past months. It's been a while since we tumbled into bed with promises of no strings, only to find invisible threads connecting us anyway.
“How are you feeling?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the ambient chatter.
The question pulls him from whatever trance he’s fallen into. He lifts his head, and suddenly, his face is inches from mine, hazel eyes searching, intense. Close enough that I can smell the champagne on his breath, see the flecks of gold in his irises.
“Fine,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Great venue, right? Love a good gala. The pinnacle of entertainment.”
I don’t smile back. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”
His playful expression falters. “What do you want me to say? That I want you? That I think about you every waking hour?” His voice drops lower, rough with emotion. “That I think maybe I made a mistake by sleeping with you... and pushing you away?”
The raw honesty in his words steals my breath. He finds my hand, cautious at first, then intertwines our fingers completely. He looks down at our joined hands, then back into my eyes with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.
What he feels for me lives in his eyes—deeper than desire, more complex than simple attraction. It scares me.
I already know; what he feels for me runs deeper than our one night was supposed to allow. I see it in the way his gaze softens when it lands on me, in how he seeks me out across crowded rooms.
“You knew what you were getting into that night, William.” My words sound hollow, even to me. “I never lied to you. My work takes me all over the world. I’m trying my hardest to acquire funding for this team, to keep the dream alive.”
“I understand.” He traces the veins on the inside of my wrist with his thumb. “But I’ve become selfish for you, Violet. Greedy. Needy.” He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I want a bit of your time. Anything. Something. A moment where you’re mine, even if it’s not forever. Hell, even a message from time to time works for me, Violet.”
A server passes with another tray of champagne. William doesn’t reach for one. Neither do I. Before I can respond, the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, asking guests to take their seats for the presentation.
William reluctantly unclasps his sweaty hand from mine. We walk to the Colton Racing table in silence, joining Blake and Nicholas. Nicholas has found a plus one—some willowy model with legs for days, who laughs too loudly at everything he says. I predict a migraine within the next thirty minutes if she continues laughing like that.
“Looks like Nicholas found company,” Blake comments dryly as we sit down.
“When doesn’t he?” William mutters, a faint edge in his voice.
The presentation drags on—the same platitudes about heritage and innovation that fill every Formula 1 event. When it finally ends, the lights dim, and a DJ takes over. The dance floor fills with bodies moving to a bass-heavy remix.
William stands. I look up, expecting him to head for the bar. Instead, he steps behind my chair, leaning down, so his lips nearly brush my ear.
“You can’t say you miss me and not give me anything.” His voice is rough. “Leave me hanging…”
He turns my chair slightly and kneels beside me, finding my hip with a gentle hand. He leans in, his nose brushing against mine in a gesture so intimate, it makes my heart stutter. Then, his lips are on mine, soft and tentative at first, then deeper, more insistent, hungrier. The kiss stretches out, claiming all myattention until the gala, the music, the people—everything fades away.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark. “I’ve missed yousomuch.”
The raw honesty in those words breaks something loose inside me. I grab his hand, fingers interlacing with his.
“We’re leaving,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
I lead him through the crowd, not caring who sees us now. Outside, the Monaco night is warm, stars hidden by the glow of casino lights. We catch a taxi to the hotel, sitting in charged silence, his knee pressed against mine the entire ride.
The elevator is empty. We stand a careful foot apart, staring at the rising floor numbers. His reflection in the mirrored wall shows his jaw clenched tight, his eyes never leaving my face. This is becoming a repeat of that night.
The hallway to my room stretches forever. I unlock the door with the key card, and when the door finally clicks open, we step inside, the automatic lock engaging behind us.
William moves toward the coat hanger, shrugging off his jacket. I don’t give him time to hang it. I grab his shoulders and shove him against the wall, pinning him there with my body. The sudden move surprises him, but then his eyes darken with heat.
“I don’t even know what to do with you right now,” I whisper, my voice rough with need.
He finds my hips, thumbs brushing the silk of my dress. “I’ve got some suggestions.” His dimples appear as he smiles, eyessoftening in a way that makes my chest ache. “But I’m open to your ideas, Violet.”
I surge forward, claiming his mouth. This kiss is nothing like the one at the gala—this is sloppy, needy, intense. He slides his hands up my back, one tangling in my hair, the other pressing me closer against him. The champagne on his tongue tastes sweet, the hardness of his body against mine making me moan.
