“I’m not sure I’m up for it,” he said, stalling.
Rikkard stumbled to a stop and reared around to face him. “Will.” He clapped his hands on either side of Will’s neck. “You made the podium! Your second race back! What the fuck do you mean you’re not up for it? It is yourdutyto get in there and party! Drink some champagne, fuck some women. Comeon. This is the best part of racing!”
Maybe it wasn’t thebestpart of racing, but Rikkard wasn’t wrong. He finished on the podium. He should be celebrating.So things with Mira had just blown up in his face. That didn’t mean he had to go crawling off to his room to feel sorry for himself.
The sound of music and laughter drifted out into the lobby as he considered. Just then, a figure materialized out of the dimly lit bar. A shapely figure in a tight red dress.
“Hello again, Will.”
“Hello, Francesca.”
18
The Uber deposited Mira and Violet in front of their hotel a few minutes after they dropped Will off.
“Thanks for coming home early with me,” Mira said as they pushed through the revolving doors. “I appreciate it.”
“It seemed like you needed it,” Violet said evenly.
“I did.” Mira’s hands were still shaking. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured his face as he looked into her eyes on the dance floor, and she heard the urgent rasp of his voice in her ear as he begged her to come home with him.
Violet let out a gusty exhale. “Mira, I’m crap at this, but if you want to talk—”
“No, that’s okay. I’m fine, I just—”
“Mira?”
That was the one voice she didn’t want to hear. Not tonight. Slowly, she turned around to face her father. He had just come into the hotel, Natalia on his arm. There had been a party thrown by a team sponsor, she dimly remembered. She probably should have gone with him. Doing her job, sticking with her father all night … that’s where she should have been. Because look what had happened when she didn’t.
When she said nothing, Violet jumped in. “Hi, Paul. You’re just getting back, too?”
Paul’s eyes roved over the two of them. Mira wanted to die. Why couldn’t the polished marble under her feet crack wide open and swallow her whole? What a wreck she was—her wild hair, her eye makeup smudged with tears, her kiss-swollen lips, all of it.
“Looks like our evening wasn’t quite the adventure yours was.”
Violet laughed; Mira didn’t. She heard the judgment in those words. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of when she asked to come on board—exactly what he was afraid she’d do. And here she was, proving all his fears correct. He didn’t even know about Will. He might never speak to her again if he knew what she’d done with him tonight.
“I dragged poor Mira out to a club with me to hear a band. She was a good sport about it, though.”
“Doesn’t seem quite your thing these days, Miranda.” His frown deepened.
Her face flamed and she shivered in misery as she made herself meet his eyes. “The music was good,” she murmured. “But yeah, it wasn’t really my scene.”
The silence was so brittle, even Violet seemed too intimidated to break it. Was it just yesterday when she’d saved the race and he’d looked at her with eyes full of pride and told her she’d done a good job? He wasn’t looking at her that way now.
“Well, I’m exhausted,” Natalia said, ever the diplomat. “We’re going to head upstairs and get some sleep.”
“Goodnight,” Mira said, as they passed her.
Paul paused. “I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow, Miranda? I was hoping to catch up on some of our paperwork during the flight.”
“Of course. Anything you need.” She’d haul her laptop and every document and folder she possessed onto that flighttomorrow. Forget catching up on sleep. She would work every minute they were in the air.
“Goodnight, Miranda.”
In silence, she and Violet watched Paul and Natalia walk away. When the elevator doors closed behind them, Violet rounded on her. “What the hell was that about?”
“Nothing.”