Page 41 of Stricken

What is happening to me?

I've always been a one-and-done kinda guy.

With him, it's always not enough.

He's the worst kind of distraction during my family crisis with the Armenians. I should be spending my time thinking about how to fix the mess we're in. Instead, I'm obsessed with a man who can potentially be my rival in this city.

I shift gears, pushing the gas pedal closer to the floor, wanting to feel that thrill again, to see him waiting for me at the track. The tires hug the curves of the road as I take the exit, my destination coming into view—the race track.

As I roll my car through the entrance and steer it into the parking spot marked by the orange cones, I wonder if I'm about to make a huge mistake. Meeting during the day, without the benefit the cover of darkness always gives us. But God, the man is worth it.

The early morning sunlight casts a shiny glow over the snaking asphalt, and I can already hear the roar of the engines in my ears, even though the track is empty save for my own vehicle and a cherry-red beauty Vlad snatched from me at the auction.

Empty bleachers rise up behind the Ferrari, the silent track stretching out ahead. Such raw, primal energy contained in this place, humming somewhere beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

As I step out of the Maserati and start walking, Vlad appears out of the Ferrari driver's seat. My heart jumps into my throat at the sight of him—a vision in a racing suit that clings to every sculpted line of his body. The view steals the air from my lungs. I've never seen him like this before–the usual suited armor replaced by a second skin that leaves little to the imagination. My gaze rakes over him hungrily, desire sparking in my veins.

The lingering regret of leaving Costa home is gone. My entire being is zeroing in on Vlad.

His gray eyes, cold as steel, meet mine, and my breath catches in my throat.

I don't like this. At all. The effect he has on me.

Vlad approaches with the confident stride of a man who knows his power. Our gazes are a collision of ice and fire, the unspoken want crackling between us. The ghost of his touch from last night whispers across my skin again, igniting a fresh wave of need.

"Nico," he greets me, his voice a velvet caress. "I see you found your way."

"What's all this?" I gesture to his outfit, the empty track. "Are you trying to impress me?

Vlad's lips twitch into a rare smirk, and I feel a shiver run down my spine, straight to my groin. "I thought I'd let you drive, since you keep begging."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "I'm not begging. It's simply polite of you, considering I let you have the car in the first place."

Vlad chuckles, the sound dark and rich. "Keep telling yourself that, Romeo."

He steps closer, invading my space, his heat seeping into me. I tilt my chin up defiantly, refusing to back down even as my body screams to surrender. Vlad's gaze drops to my lips, his own parting slightly. The air grows thick with tension, the magnetic pull between us almost physical.

"So," I breathe, fighting to keep my composure, "are we going to stand here all day, or are you going to let me show you how it's done, Hot Shot?"

Vlad's eyes flash with amusement and something darker, more primal. "By all means. Show me."

"Am I getting the same suit?" I pinch at the fabric of his sleeve.

He motions at the entrance to the building. "Of course. Waiting for you in the dressing room."

* * *

"Got the size right, Hot Shot," I tell Vlad later when I exit the dressing room.

He looks me up and down first with appreciative eyes, then comments, "It would be a shame if I didn't." He moves into my personal space and adds in a low voice, "I know every goddamned curve of your body, Romeo, like no one else."

"Cocky bastard." My lips kiss the air but we both know it's meant for him. We just don't want to give the wrong impression to the workers. Even though I've only seen a couple of people so far. One at the pit area and another one showing me to the dressing room.

"You take your driving seriously," I remark, gesturing to our matching suits and helmets Vlad's holding.

"I used to race back in Moscow when I was younger. I know a thing or two about cars."

Surprise flickers through me. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed. You always seem so... put together."

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