Page 57 of Kiss & Collide
She fired off a quick text.
Starting soon. Hope you’re almost here?
His typical one-letter reply came a moment later.
k
Rolling her eyes, she checked her email while she waited. There was a new one from her contact atVanity Fair. The subject line was “Just went live.”
She clicked on the link inside and let out a gasp. The photos weregorgeous… lavish, colorful, romantic. A two-page spread kicked it off, with the title in scrolling white letters, “Young Americans in Paris,” contrasted against the green of the trees in the Square du Vert-Galant. They were all in that panoramic shot, beautifully dressed and groomed, Zuri Clark in that stunning navy dress, Dev in his tux, Madison in her pink cloud of a gown, Anson Fitzpatrick in a sharp charcoal suit … and there was Chase in the middle of all of it, his undone tux, sex hair, and stubble, like some Spanish god. It was better than she could have hoped. Clicking through, she found the shot of him and Madison, Chase cradling her as they leaned back on the tree, her fingertips on his jaw, his arms around her waist. So beautiful. Both of them.
She was firing off an effusive thank-you to herVFcontact when the sleek red sports car some local race sponsor had provided for Chase pulled up beside the tent. As he unfolded himself from the small front seat, he absently ran a hand through his riotous hair. For all his complaining at the shoot, he’d kept the stubble and sex hair since then. It suited him. And thanks to her ruthless nagging, he made sure he was always well turned out in his new clothes. Not a grotty T-shirt in sight these days. Today he was in an Italian polo shirt, designer track pants, and trainers—casual, but clearly expensive.
“You owe me,” she said as he approached.
He looked at her apprehensively. “What for now?”
She passed over her phone, watching his face as he flicked through the article. “Looks nice,” he said, handing her phone back.
“Nice? Nice! This is like … gold-standard publicity. I can’t believe I managed to pull this off for you. Look! Just look at yourself! You’re going to be trending online within the hour.”
Chase chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never seen you like this, Violet. Are you feeling genuine enthusiasm about something?”
She tapped his chest until he looked up and met her eyes. “Marketing execs in offices around the world are seeing this right now and trying to figure out how to tie their company’s name to you. This means sponsorships, Chase. This meansmoney.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “I’m grateful,” he said quietly. “I truly am.”
Suddenly her chest felt weirdly tight, even though what he said pleased her.
“Good,” she said, then cleared her throat. “You’d better get in there. They’re waiting for you.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked dutifully. She had to give it to him, he followed directions and respected her expertise. Which was also a welcome change.
She absently reached up to fix his hair, to make it a little more grabbable. “It doesn’t much matter what I tell you to say, because they’re all going to ask you about this.” She waved her phone at him. “But yeah, do try to steer it back around to the racing. You’ve had better results since Rabia started upgrading the car. Mention her by name. We want everybody to know that Pinnacle’s improvements are thanks to her.”
“As you wish.” He saluted her, that joking little gesture of his that she was secretly becoming very fond of.
Then he reached out and touched her bottom lip with his fingertip. It was a whisper of a touch, just his finger against her lip. Before she could open her mouth to ask him what he thought he was doing, he turned around and ducked into the tent.
She raised a hand to her mouth, still feeling the brush of his finger there. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth to dispel any lingering tingles and followed him into the tent.
Inside, a PA was waiting to whisk him away and get him up on the dais next to Dieter, Olivier Lavoie, and, unfortunately, Liam O’Neill. Chase and Liam shot each other one brief, stone-faced glance and then went back to studiously ignoring each other. Honestly …men.
Violet stood at the back of the room, taking note of the increased rustling and murmuring as Chase entered the room. The moderator, some guy fromAuto Racing, asked the usual softball intro question about what challenges they foresaw in Singapore, and each driver dutifully answered, citing the street track, the heat, the stuff they always said about Singapore. But Violet was really waiting to see the reaction when theAuto Racingguy turned it over to the press pool. Who would they direct most of their questions to?
The first reporter stood up. “Terry Carmichael, from World News. This is for Chase Navarro. Chase, you’ve moved up in the rankings from nineteenth to sixteenth overall, and Pinnacle has moved up as well, to ninth place in the Constructor’s Championship. Can you talk a little bit about what’s behind your improvement?”
From the instant the reporter mentioned Chase’s name, Liam’s expression got even stonier. As Chase sat forward and smiled, Liam crossed his arms tightly over his chest and slumped back in his chair.
“While I’d like to chalk it all up to my stellar driving, I have to give credit where credit is due. Rabia Dar is working miracles with the car. Every week we see improvement. She and Leon Franklin are constantly finding new ways to optimize the package. They make a great team, and it’s an exciting time to be with Pinnacle.”
Violet gave a tight nod of approval. Perfect. He really was quite good at this, for all his fussing and resisting.
Chase leaned into the mic. “Also, Iama hell of a driver. Make sure you write that part down.” He cracked a smile and laughter rippled through the room.
Andthatwas why he was magic. They fucking loved him. You could feel it in the air. The entire room of reporters practically let out a swoony sigh.
And she could see why. When you were with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, like he was hanging on every word you said. Or maybe that was just the way he madeherfeel.
