Faster Harder (7 page)

“Oh shit...” I whisper, my eyes locked on Harrison’s
strapping form.

I flirted with him last night. I kissed him. I would have
done a lot more, too, if left to my own devices. I nearly slept with the
goddamned enemy before the first preliminary was even run. If anyone from Team
Ferrelli knew, I’d be sunk.

“Oh shit is right,” Charlie mutters beside me.

My stomach flips over, mimicking Naughton’s gravity-defying
wreck. Charlie was there at the club last night. He watched Harrison charm me
onto the dance floor, steal me away against his protestations. He knows
everything
.

“Don’t worry,” he says, seeing the panic in my eyes, “You
didn’t know. Your secret’s safe with me. It’s not like you’re going to let it
happen again.”

“Right...” I breathe, watching Harrison slip the racing
jumpsuit off his sculpted form. “Never again. Of course not. That would
be...crazy.”

Chapter Five

Sleeping With The Enemy

The second we arrive back at the hotel after a long day of
preliminaries, Bex and I hightail it up to my suite. The rest of the team is
off to some bar or other to celebrate a good run and talk strategy for
tomorrow’s qualifier, but we shook them off with some vague mention of “girl
stuff”. Sometimes you’ve got to play the lady card to keep the boys out of your
business.

We hurtle into my suite and rooms and I quickly lock the
door behind us. Letting out a long-suppressed groan, I let my back slide down
against the door until I’m sitting in a little heap on the cushy carpet.

“Of all the people in the entire F1 universe,” I say, “Why
the hell did I have to go feel up Team McClain’s new golden boy?”

“You didn’t know, Siena,” Bex says, grabbing a couple of
mini Jack Daniels bottles out of the mini fridge. “If you had any idea who he
was, you probably would have gone about things a little differently.”

“That’s the thing, Bex,” I say, happily accepting a tiny
bottle and screwing off the top, “I don’t know if I would have.”

“You don’t mean that,” Bex says, taking a sip of her booze
and kicking off her heeled boots, “Family is, like, the most important thing in
the world to you.”

“It is,” I allow, “But Bex...That guy is not easy to resist.
I had every intention of ignoring him at the club last night, sparing Charlie’s
feelings...but he does something to me.”

“Gee,” Bex says, rolling her eyes, “A staggering handsome
race car driver with a British accent
does
something
to you? Color me shocked.”

“It wasn’t just that,” I say, taking a swig of my Jack, “I
felt like we understood each other, from the moment we said hello. It was like we
were instantly on the same level. I didn’t feel like I needed to bullshit him,
or play the game.”

“Siena, you never play the game,” Bex says, “You just wait
for the next twerpy guy with a masters degree to wander along and eat up your
time.”

“Exactly!” I exclaim, rising to my feet, “I never go after
any guy that I actually find attractive. Never once have I chased down someone
that I really, truly wanted.”

“And this Harrison guy? Do you really, truly want him?” Bex
asks, “Even now that you know he’s the competition?”

“I...I don’t know,” I say, “Maybe.”

“Siena Lazio,” Bex grins, shaking her head in wonder, “I do
believe that you’ve got a bad case of the
Gottafuckems
!”

“You’re a terrible influence,” I smile.

“Look, I’m not saying you should run off and marry the guy,”
Bex goes on, “But he’s obviously into you, and I feel pretty confident in
guessing that the feeling is mutual. The question is, are you capable of being
discreet about it?”

“About what?”

“A booty call with Mr. Davis, of course.”

“I don’t do booty calls, Bex.”

“You haven’t done booty calls. But you’ve never gone after
someone who actually deserves a second of your time before, either. There’s a
first time for everything.”

“I guess...”

“I’m just saying,” Bex sighs, “If you really felt a
connection with this guy, you shouldn’t let some silly sense of competition
stop you.”

“I just wish he’d told me who he actually was before we got
all hot and heavy,” I say.

“True...that’s a little sketch,” Bex allows, “But you don’t
know the full story. Maybe he was bound to secrecy, by penalty of death or
something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know! You F1 people seem pretty intense.”

“I guess I could give him the benefit of the doubt,” I say.
“I think I should at least talk to him, now that I know the score. Clear the
air, or whatever. I mean, I’m sure we’ll be running into each other over the
course of the tournament. I don’t want things to get weird between us if they
don’t have to.”

“Go ahead and justify it all you want,” Bex laughs, “I’m not
judging you.” 

“I wonder where Team McClain is staying,” I muse, “Or where
I could conveniently run into Harrison without it looking like I’m stalking
him.”

“Well, you would be stalking him. Let’s call a spade a
spade,” Bex says, “But anyway, that part’s easy.”

“How do you mean?”

“Hello,” Bex says, “Social media whiz over here, remember?
Give me five minutes, and I’ll find your lover boy for you.”

I watch as Bex whips out her smart phone and taps away at
the screen, the tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth. I sip the last of
my booze, enjoying the smoky taste as it coasts down my throat. In no time at
all, Bex lets out a victorious cry.

“Got him!” she says, beckoning me over to her phone.

I peer down at the screen and see that Bex has pulled up the
Twitter account of Team McClain. One of the PR girls must be documenting the
tournament for the fans at home. There’s a picture at the top of the team’s
feed, featuring the grinning Harrison and Andy, posing in front of this very
hotel. The caption on the photo reads, “Nice Digs, Team McClain :D Hello,
Barcelona!”

“I never would have thought of searching their Twitter
account,” I say.

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Bex smiles, “Now you
know. Harrison’s staying right here in the same hotel as us. How very
convenient for you.”

“Kind of,” I allow, “I’ll be able to ‘accidentally’ run into
him more easily. But if people see us talking...”

“It’s not like you’re going to mount him in the middle of
the lobby,” Bex says, “And anyone who gets annoyed with you for having a
conversation with a nice young man like Harrison needs to get their head
checked. You’re totally in the clear, Siena.”

But despite Bex’s assurances, I know that talking to
Harrison again isn’t going to be as simple as all that. I need to proceed
carefully, or risk bringing the wrath of my entire team down on my head.
Charlie already knows that Harrison has a more-than-friendly interest in me.
The last thing I need is for my dad and brother to hatch their own suspicions.
I’m not even sure that I’m willing to start anything up with Harrison, just by
virtue of the fact that he drives for McClain. At the end of the day, teams
have each others’ backs. But an affair? That might be pushing it.

A knock on the door makes me jump a foot in the air.

“Are you decent?” says Enzo from the other side of the door.

I’m a little let down to hear my brother’s voice. That’s
ridiculous, of course. What, was I expecting Harrison to pop over for visit or
something?

“As decent as we’ll ever be,” I answer, swinging open the
door.

Enzo and Charlie stroll across the threshold. I can tell
they’re already a few beers in, and I don’t blame them. It was a trying day for
everyone, after all.

“Hey there girls,” Enzo says, flopping down onto my bed,
“How’s tricks?”

“You guys want to come down and grab a bite with us?”
Charlie asks.

“I guess we could stand to be seen in your company,” I joke,
pushing Enzo’s dirty boots off my comforter. “Why don’t you give us a few
minutes to get dressed and we’ll meet you down there. How’s nine o’clock?”

“Beautiful,” Enzo says, “We’ll wait for you at the bar.”

The boys leave us to scrub off the race track grime and
dress up a little. Bex’s room is right next door to mine, so we’re free to come
and go as we please. I’ve always enjoyed getting a little dolled up at the end
of a long day. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been such a workaholic, but
putting on a nice dress and some tasteful makeup has always seemed like a treat
in and of itself. I choose a sleek backless dress in a rich emerald shade for
tonight. The beautiful green is an open homage to Ferrelli’s racing colors.
Despite my attraction to Harrison, my ultimate loyalties are all sewn up. I
want him to be able to see that from a mile away, if he’s even looking at all.

I let my hair hang in loose waves and smear on some plum colored
lipstick. Satisfied with my beautification efforts, I go to fetch Bex. As ever,
she’s chosen a much flashier ensemble than mine—a leopard print crop top and
black high-waisted mini skirt.

“Damn, Bex,” I say, “Trying to make the rest of us look
bad?”

“As if anyone could ever make you look bad, Lazio,” she
says. “Now come on, let’s go. A little airplane bottle of Jack is hardly going
to get me through the night.”

We make our way down to the bustling hotel restaurant and
bar, Encrucijada. One look at the assembled patrons puts my mind at ease about
being overdressed. Gorgeous, glowing celebrities of the F1 circuit mill about
in their Friday night best while lesser-known but still impeccably styled team
members hang about. The whole joint is a who’s who of the racing scene, or at
least the younger faction. Older gurus like Gus and my dad have retired to
their rooms for strategizing and slumber, but all the youngsters are out and
ready for whatever twists the night might take.

I spot Enzo and Charlie at the bar at once and lead Bex in
their direction. I have to hand it to them, my boys clean up nice. Enzo’s
nailing the whole dark and brooding thing while Charlie rocks his signature
Cape Cod meets Roman Holiday style. I’m proud as ever to be in their company,
even if I’m secretly keeping an eye out for another man altogether. Bex and I
settle down on either side of our companions and find ourselves furnished with
drinks at once—a margarita for me, and a rum and coke for Bex.

“Aw, how sweet!” Bex coos, “You chaps know my drink
already.”

“It’s my job to know,” Charlie replies, “If anyone’s going
to be buying drinks for the ladies of Team Ferrelli, I’d prefer it to be me.”

I lift my frosty drink to my lips, ignoring Charlie’s none
too subtle jibe. He’s still smarting from my dismissal last night, but I’m not
about to open that can of worms again.

“Charlie takes his guardian angel role very seriously,” Enzo
laughs, “Me, I do my best. But I find that I’m easily...distracted in these
kind of situations.”

I watch as my brother’s eyes follow the figure of a
perfectly proportioned and scantily clad woman making her way across the bar.
Enzo’s been a shameless ladies man for as long as I can remember, but he tends
to be subtle, so none of us mind too much.

“By all means,” I say, “If you’re going to ditch us for the
sake of getting tail, you might as well do it now.”

“Thanks for understanding, Sis,” he smiles, kissing me on
the forehead.

In a heartbeat, Enzo’s vanished, tracking down the woman
that managed to snag his eye. If only I had an ounce of Enzo’s confidence where
the other sex was concerned.

“Lucky me,” Charlie says, “Here at the bar with two
beautiful women? I’ll be the envy of the entire tournament.”

“That is, if we deign to stay here with you,” Bex winks.

“I can only hope,” Charlie replies, taking a long swig of
his drink. “How are you guys holding up after this morning? That was a rough
scene. I hope it didn’t upset you too much.”

Bex opens her mouth to respond, but I don’t hear a word she
says. Because at that moment, my eyes align on a welcome and forbidden sight.

Harrison Davies has arrived.

He strolls into the bar attended by the same posse as the
night before. Andy and Cora enter arm in arm while Sara and Shelby flank
Harrison like diminutive body guards. But the rest of the party might as well
be invisible—I’ve only got eyes for Harrison.

The subject of my ardent gaze has neglected to alter his
uniform of perfectly fitted jeans and a classic black tee shirt. His clear blue
eyes scan the restaurant and bar, sizing up the crowd that has gathered. As he
shoves a hand through his dirty blonde hair, those blue orbs alight on me. With
a wicked smile, he gives me a wink. I have to steady myself against the bar to
keep from toppling over there and then.

“Siena?” Charlie says, drawing me out of my reverie.

“Wh-what?” I stammer.

“I asked if you were hungry,” Charlie says.

“Oh...No,” I reply. Not for anything but Harrison Davies, if
I’m being honest.

Charlie and Bex follow my gaze and watch as the members of
Team McClain make their way into the bar. At once, Harrison is beset with
admirers, and a stab of protectiveness surprises me. I’m not the jealous type,
but there’s something that really irks me about the throng of people descending
on Harrison. Do they even think of him as anything other than a celebrity, some
kind of untouchable god? He’s a person, with anxieties and fears and dreams,
just like the rest of us. Or at least...that’s what I suspect. Hell, maybe I’m
just fooling myself into thinking we had some kind of deep connection last
night. Maybe he is as invincible as everyone else seems to believe. I suppose
there’s only one way to find out. I have to see him again. Alone.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Charlie grumbles, glaring at
Harrison as he walks across the restaurant.

“What’s your problem with him?” I ask, “So he’s a good
racer. Is that a crime or something all of a sudden?”