Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

She blinks up at the building. “Wow. It reminds me of the Biltmore Estate.”

“The what?”

She lets out a sigh. “Oh, forget it. Sometimes I forget you’re not from America.”

I open my mouth to respond, but something catches my eyes. A bystander pulls out their phone and snaps a picture of us. I’m tempted to call them out on their lack of privacy, but Chloe pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” She pokes my chest.

I release a shaky breath, ignoring the interested onlookers. “No. At least I hope it isn’t. We better check in before a mob starts forming.”

Chloe scans the entryway, her eyes stopping on the fans who’ve gathered near the lobby. “You know, there’s one thing learning you’re famous, but then there’s a whole other thing experiencing it firsthand.”

“This is nothing,” I mumble as I direct her toward the concierge desk.

“They’re taking video of you! That’s so creepy.”

I’m thankful for the jeans covering my leg. Nothing about my fans’ scrutiny makes me feel good, but I can’t do anything about it while we are out in the open. “Ignore it. You’ll get used to them by the end of the weekend.”

“I don’t know if that’s something I want to get used to in the first place.” She purses her lips.

The employee checks us in, her gaze focused on me. She drops our key card twice before I reach over and pluck it from her trembling hands with a thank you.

My skin itches as people’s stares heat the back of my neck. “Let’s go,” I grunt, stealing Chloe’s attention away from a fancy painting she was ogling. With fidgety hands, I grab onto our luggage and lead the way toward the elevator.

We enter a waiting car. The doors shut, and I exhale.

“Are you okay?” Chloe tilts her head at me.

“I just want to get to the room and relax.”

“Mmkay.” She rocks back on the heels of her sneakers.

The numbers change at a crawl as the car begins its slow ascent. I tap my fingers against the metal handlebar.

“Do you want to cancel? It’s not too late to turn back now and go home.”

Home. A word like that out of her mouth shouldn’t make my skin heat with a welcome nervousness, but it does. Something deep within me wouldn’t mind taking Chloe home. Anywhere but here.

I shake my head. “No. And based on the amount of photos the fans took, I’m sure everyone will know I’m here by the end of the hour. If I run, then I’ll look like a coward.”

“Or someone who values their privacy.” She shrugs.

Her gesture is sweet, but I couldn’t escape this fate even if I wanted to. The elevator stops, and the doors open to our suite.

“Holy shit.” Chloe’s mouth gapes open as she exits the car, leaving me behind to roll our bags inside.

Lights bounce off the chandelier above our heads, highlighting the expansive space. Chloe runs her hand across a suede couch. I enjoy the look of awe on her face as she takes in everything.

“The only way this weekend can get any better is if you tell me there’s free champagne and chocolate in this room.” She throws herself on the couch.

Her reaction reminds me of my first time experiencing the lux life of Formula 1. I was lost in the luxury of everything, not realizing how easily it could be taken away.

I frown at the idea. Unfortunately, it was. The psychological wound festers into something tangible, with an ache emanating through my body toward my leg. If a phantom pain happens again in front of Chloe, I swear I’ll lose my shit. One time was enough of a blow to my confidence. Two times in one day would be catastrophic.

Inhaling deeply, I turn away toward the door on the opposit

e end of the room. It takes everything in me not to stumble. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I’m going to take a nap.”