Page 6 of Fast-Track Fiancé

He grabbed her hand, holding it captive against the spot where his heart beat frantically against his ribcage. Those obsidian eyes glowed up at him once again with irritation and he was done for. He’d give her whatever she wanted just to see that passion in another, more intimate setting.

‘Playing is the best way to negotiate, cariña.’ He laid a single tentative kiss against the inside of the wrist he held captive. ‘It’s my favourite way, in fact. But we will need to take this meeting somewhere more private if I hope to give you my full attention.’

‘Somewhere private,’ she repeated slowly, her eyes glued to the point where his lips still pressed against her skin. ‘Okay...’

‘I can have my driver meet us out front in five minutes,’ he murmured, urgency rapidly taking control of his libido as he slowly drew her closer. ‘And I can have you naked and calling out my name in ten.’

She looked up at him, and he caught a brief view of her eyes widening in surprise before he lowered his lips to hers. The heat of her mouth against his was like a fire in his blood and he suddenly doubted if they would make it to the car at all. It felt like a lifetime since he’d experienced this kind of unbridled desire for a woman.

He paused, realising she hadn’t moved since he’d kissed her—in fact, she was as still as a statue. He moved to pull back, only to hear the smallest moan escape her lips. Her hands slid up to wrap around his neck and suddenly she was kissing him back frantically, albeit with very little control or finesse.

A roar of victory coursed through his veins and he scooped her up, pressing her back against the stone balustrade and tilting his head to gain deeper access. He needed to taste every inch of her and have her do the same to him. He needed her wild for him. As though she heard his thoughts, her tongue delved into his mouth in a perfect imitation of his own, giving just as good as she got. Just as he’d thought, she was a little firebrand. Dios, but he was half tempted to take her right here on the balcony, no questions asked. He didn’t even know her name.

Perhaps he’d keep it that way, keep the air of mystery between them for tonight, then once they’d both been thoroughly satisfied he’d deal with the aftermath. The real world could wait. Everything could wait.

Vaguely, he was aware of a sudden flash of white light. His mystery woman froze in his arms and for a moment he wondered if lightning had struck. How very poetic that would be. But as a second burst of light surrounded them, his sex-addled mind finally processed that it was the unmistakable flash of a camera bulb. Rearing back, he turned just as a third flash bathed the terrace with white light and briefly illuminated a young woman holding up a phone on the next terrace.

‘Mierda,’ he growled, gently lowering his equally kiss-addled companion down to her feet before moving quickly towards the iron railing that separated the two balconies. The woman with the phone had already begun running in the opposite direction, but if they moved quickly his security team might catch up to her. He had to, if he wanted any chance of stopping those photos from getting out. His promise to his mother ringing in his ears, he made the call and felt his chest release slightly when he was assured that his team were on the case. It would be fine, everything would be fine and he would still be free to continue exploring his little interlude with the woman in blue.

That particular thought renewing his lust, he spun around to find the terrace was now empty and all trace of his mystery woman gone.

CHAPTER THREE

NINA UPPED HER maximum speed on the treadmill, pushing herself into a sprint. She was all alone in the Falco Roux private fitness facility, with most of the team taking a rest day. With the idea of rest being utterly laughable, she’d chosen to complete a punishing session of strength and mobility work. She pushed herself past her usual limits, making the excuse that she needed to get some heavy cardio in after a long night travelling back to Monaco from Paris. In truth, she was simply trying to take a break from the constant notifications on her phone and the threat of Astrid Lewis appearing like an anxious PR damage-control fairy behind her at any moment.

She had messed up, royally.

The photos of her and Tristan Falco kissing had appeared on a gossip site late last night and had spread like wildfire across social media within hours. Even with all the money that Tristan Falco had, no one could stop the power of the Internet. They were the top trending topic on most social media sites and if he hadn’t known who she was last night, he certainly did now with headlines like The Roux-mours Are True and Falco’s Driving Her Crazy titillating the masses. She’d stopped looking after the first few, utterly unable to stare at another image of her one moment of weakness.

She wasn’t even quite sure how it had happened. She wasn’t the best judge of context most of the time, but add in the kind of intense charm that Tristan Falco exuded and, quite simply, her mental processing had been compromised. He’d mistaken her for someone else, that much was for sure with the kind of things he’d been saying. But who he might have mistaken her for was an utter mystery. She had gone over and over their conversation in her mind, trying to pick at which point things had begun to unravel past her control.

Her mind conjured up an HD slow-motion reel of the moment his lips had touched the inside of her wrist and she was shocked at the immediate flush of warmth that swirled behind her bellybutton.

Yeah, that had been the start of it, all right.

One thing was for sure, the rumours about ultimate playboy Tristan Falco were not at all false. And apparently, she had come perilously close to experiencing his skills first-hand. Even the small taste she had received had felt like being hooked up to a live electricity source. He was brutally intense, and she had never reacted to anyone physically like that. Not a single person.

It was why she’d never felt any urge to go on dates, or pursue flirtations with the many guys who’d expressed intense curiosity about thawing the so-called Elite One Ice Princess. It wasn’t an act or a measure of self-preservation; she simply wasn’t interested. She was always in control and she never forgot who she was and what she wanted.

Well, almost never.

Punching the speed even higher, she ran and ran until she thought she might come close to pulling a muscle and then she stopped and cooled down, staring out at the view of the harbour for a long time before forcing herself to go and shower. She lingered longer than usual under the hot spray, once again feeling lucky that she was the only female driver on the team and had an entire bathroom to herself. She’d managed to avoid the rest of the team since arriving at their relatively deserted headquarters, but she was no fool, she knew that she couldn’t avoid them for ever. Any respect she’d had as a driver was now compromised, with her name being dragged through the mud.

The idea that she’d been seen kissing their new playboy owner... Scandal like that was bound to cause trouble. Would all of the work she’d done to be seen as an equal to the male drivers be reset and disregarded? Reputations were everything in this high-drama sport and she had just painted a target on her back. She’d already been branded as a pay driver, a term given to minimise the talent of drivers who were related to their team owner. But she’d proven herself time and time again as she’d risen up through the ranks, showing her skill while still acknowledging the enormous privilege she’d experienced as a member of the Roux family.

There was no fancy term she knew of for a driver who was perceived to be sleeping with the team owner, but she was pretty sure the public would come up with plenty. None of which would be remotely complimentary to her.

With a single kiss, Tristan Falco had possibly landed the final nail in the coffin of her short-lived career. Or perhaps she had done that herself by allowing her temper to take hold and travelling to Paris to confront him incognito. He hadn’t forced himself on her after all. She could have stopped him at any moment. Much as she’d like to pretend that she hadn’t been in full possession of her senses, in fact the opposite was true. A handsome man had shown her the slightest bit of attention and she’d melted into his embrace like butter. She’d been painfully aware of every touch, every look, every slide of his lips against hers.

She was twenty-three and hadn’t experienced a true kiss of passion until last night. She wasn’t embarrassed about that fact—her lack of experience wasn’t something she thought about often at all. It was easy not to think about sex when you didn’t particularly feel or engage in sexual attraction. But with Falco, she’d felt far too much. Now she wondered, if they hadn’t been interrupted, would she have stopped him at all?

Her nipples pebbled painfully and she blamed the air conditioning, shaking off her thoughts as she stepped out of the shower. Her reflection in the mirror was a cruel reminder of the real reason Falco hadn’t recognised her when she’d removed her mask last night. Her black hair hung limply to her shoulders, not quite curly but not quite straight either. Dark circles underlined her red-rimmed eyes, framed by a face most in the media had delighted in describing as plain and uninteresting.

Most people outside the media described her that way too. They seemed to make a point to comment on her supposed lack of femininity, analysing her ungraceful gait and her far too casual dress sense. Traits that the men in her industry generally did not have to accentuate or play up to. She’d long ago stopped bothering to challenge their boring ideals.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder would the playboy find her so fascinating if he could see her now? She pushed the thought away, reminding herself that Falco’s opinion of her did not matter. What mattered most right now was to try and figure out a way to see if anything in this workplace nightmare was salvageable. Perhaps she could use this to get her contract fully cancelled, maybe get in ahead of the news to one of the other teams, offer to sign a scandalously low contract with them... Even as the thought crossed her mind she pushed it away, knowing that the legal ramifications would bankrupt her if she tried to do that.

‘You are fascinating,’ she told her reflection in the mirror. ‘Fascinatingly gifted at tanking your own career.’

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