Page 54 of False God

My left eye twitches. Public speaking is high on my list of hated activities, and any faith I had in the institution of marriage disappeared around the time of my parents’ divorce. There’s no way Lili could know those two things about me. What she also doesn’t know about me is that there’s nothing I wouldn’t wager right now. I’m confident I’ll win, and I’m ridiculously desperate to spend more time around her, preferably alone.

“Deal,” I agree, releasing her hand. Satisfaction courses through me as I pull on my helmet and flip up the visor. “Good luck, Kensington.”

I leave Lili standing with her astonished friend, heading toward the blue Lamborghini.

One of the instructors rushes toward me, his mouth puckered unpleasantly, like he sucked something sour. “Sir, you missed the karts and time in the sidepod?—”

“I signed the waiver,” I say, tugging the zipper up to my chin.

“I know, sir, but you should really?—”

I turn and clap a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Look …”

“Milo,” he supplies.

“Look, Milo. I’m good. Sit back and enjoy the show, all right?”

Milo frowns like he’d love to argue, casting an uneasy glance toward the group of Americans. He collected the forms, meaning he knows who I am. This is the first time in a while I’ve been grateful for my title.

He caves, reminding me about the pace car and the ambulance before heading back inside the garage.

I’m about to climb into the Lamborghini when I hear, “… don’t get why you’re doing this.”

I glance over one shoulder. Cal Winston is standing next to Lili’s yellow car, blocking her from climbing inside.

My jaw tightens as I register the possessive pose of his lean. None of Lili’s other friends are trying to talk her out of racing.

There’s too much commotion around for me to catch Lili’s response. Hopefully, it’s some version offuck off. Whatever she says, it’s enough to make Cal back away.

Lili looks in my direction after he walks off, catching me staring. Her sunglasses are gone, her eyes singeing me like blue fire. They cool a few seconds later, flames flickering down to a smolder.

I picture those accident photos again, and this time, there’s a stab of panic.

Not for my safety.

For hers.

Is she up for this?

She lives in New York, which I learned firsthand is full of terrible drivers. If she has a private jet, she must have a chauffeur in the city.

I goaded Lili into racing because I wanted her attention and couldn’t think of any other way to get it. Because I was thinking with my dick instead of my brain.

She sat through the training I missed earlier. But who the fuck knows if she was paying attention during it? She told me she wasn’t planning to race.

Bloody hell.

I jog toward the yellow car, ignoring the surprised looks from the pit crew preparing to start the race. Lili’s helmet is on, the visor up as she studies the controls on the wheel.

She glances up as I approach. I can feel the sweat dripping down my spine.

“Why weren’t you going to race?” I ask. Yell more like because it’s even louder out on the track now that they’re starting all the engines.

Lili blinks. “What?”

“You said you weren’t planning to drive. Why not?”

“I-I don’t know. This was Theo’s thing. I thought I’d be in the stands or something.”

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