“She’s registered under Luminis GP. I'm not asking for anyone else. Just give me the number.”
“I'm afraid I can't disclose guest information?—”
“I’m Callum Fraser.”
Nothing. Not a spark of recognition. No,oh, of course, right this way, sir.
What the fuck else could I say?
I sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. "I'm a… Formula 1 driver." I cringed at how it sounded out loud. Not at all a humble brag, just a fact. One I never had to say because it usually spoke for itself.
It was strange having to disclose my credentials to someone. I was so accustomed to living in a world that paraded us around and put our entire lives on display. "So is she. We're colleagues," I added, nearly choking on the world.
Like hell we were.
We were rivals. We were chaos, a goddamn car crash I couldn't stop staring at. We were whatever-the-fuck this was, and right now, I needed to see her more than I needed my pride.
The alcohol made everything slow. I was sluggish, a little bit drunk. No logic was left in my brain, only heat and noise and her.
"Please," I pleaded, suddenly feeling the weight of every racing season on my shoulders. "I just… I need to see her."
Jesus. I could’ve stripped naked and offered him a signed helmet and he still wouldn’t have cracked. I pulled out my wallet, slid a couple hundreds across the counter, and then added two more. He hesitated, glancing from the bills to my face.
“Look, I'm also a guest staying at this hotel. I’m not asking again,” I said, low and wrecked. “You’ll save both of us a lot of grief.”
He stared at the bills, and then he mumbled a number under his breath.
I was already halfway across the lobby before he finished. Nearly tripped over my own damn feet in the elevator. The number kept repeating in my head like a fucking code to salvation.
By the time I was at her door, my whole body buzzed. My hands shook. My heart pounded loud enough to drown out my common sense.
I wasso far gone.Intoxicated. Not just by the alcohol—but by her.
My entire body was running on nothing but lust andwant and that was so fucking foreign to me.
I had never chased down a woman.
First time for everything, I supposed. But Aurélie wasn’t just anyone. She’d be mine. I’d make damn sure of it. I'd beg. I'd bribe. I'd burn the fucking grid down.
I lifted my hand and knocked. No answer. I knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing.
My jaw clenched. My head swam. This was a bad idea. And just as I was about to turn away, the door cracked open.
There she was.
Glassy-eyed. Flushed. Breathtaking in a silk robe that barely covered anything, one shoulder hanging dangerously low.
I forgot how to breathe…. and then I heard it. The soft sound of running water.
For a split second, something wild and sick punched through me:she’s not alone.
I imagined it. Her in the shower. Someone else’s hands on her waist. Someone else getting what should’ve been mine and I saw fucking red.
It hit me brutally and fast, like a punch, and I felt a sharp, ugly jealousy I had no right to feel. I was still drunk and thinking about how she walked away from me, the way she left me alone in that club after that fucking kiss, and now I was standing here, looking at her, thinking what I would do if she wasn't alone.
The question was like a match to gasoline.
I was already on fire, and she'd just lit the fuse.
