The Prince and the Player - Page 9

I think about earlier this evening and how Ava knew instinctively to sneak into the coatroom and wait. My sister and I have become a well-oiled machine. I can’t take credit for being the brains anymore because my little sister is right there spotting every angle and preparing to maximize any situation.

One day we won’t need Seth to come up with cons. One day we’ll have enough money to take care of ourselves for a long, long time.

One day we’ll be free.

Playboy Prince

Rowan

Shoving the clutch into fifth, I steer into the straight and punch the accelerator all the way to the floor. The noise of the engine rips through the air, and the speed of the Mercedes CLR vibrates up my legs as the needle moves past a hundred.

The track is slick and the tires of my Formula One car are slicker. A single wrong move could send me into a potentially deadly spin. Every muscle in my body strains as I ride the lightning, as a bead of sweat glides down my neck. A curve is ahead. I’ll cut the first one to nail the second exiting into another straight to pick up more speed.

Pushing the breaks hard, the wheel fights me as I turn it. I cross my arms like a pretzel, never letting go as I guide the car through the first turn, only to whip it around again coming out and hitting the gas hard, flying into the straight.

The black and white checkerboard of the finish line is in view, and I let her rip, giving everything to beat my previous time. Scenery blurs into a wash of color. My eyes are fixed on the top third of the windshield. I blaze past the flagman faster than a blink, his frantic waving barely registering in my vision.

Foot off the gas, I exhale, my muscles vibrating with adrenaline. Coasting through the downshifts, I bring it into the pit.

“Fuck me, you did it! Seven seconds!” Cal is laughing and shouting at the side of the car, grasping my underarm and pulling me up. “You’re one away from the record.”

Pulling off my helmet, I scrub a hand back and forth through my dark hair. “It’s not enough,” I say, pulling the zipper down on my red and white fireproof suit.

It’s a gorgeous day on the track. The sky is brilliant blue, and the air is dry. Zero humidity, and not a cloud obstructs the sun from beating down on us. Standing on the black asphalt, my entire body is covered in sweat from both the exertion of the trial run and the heat. If we were closer to the coast, at least we’d have the constant breeze.

“You’re the best racer in the country,” my brother continues. “It’s a shame you’ll never compete again.”

Regret twists my stomach. “You always know just what to say, don’t you, Cal?”

“Come now, we can’t have our future king going out in a blaze of glory.” He slaps my back as he braces me. “You’ve got enough shit to deal with at the palace.”

Even after all this time, it’s tough for me to let it go so easily. “Did you see Gutierrez’s crash last week? He climbed out and walked over to do an interview right after.”

“What are you saying?” My brother’s eyes flash.

“Nothing.” One of the pit crew shoves a Gatorade in my hand, and I rip the top off and take a drink before dismissing my fantasies of freedom. “Only that it’s impressive how far safety has come. Racin

g sets the standard for the entire automobile industry.”

“You want to say fuck it? Grand Prix qualifications are only a few weeks away!”

“No.” I push off the side of the car and slowly make my way to the track exit. Cal would never talk me out of doing something completely insane and irresponsible. He’s perfected such behavior. “Fuck it is not in the royal vernacular.”

“Ah, shit.” He walks beside me, pulling out his phone. “I thought for once we might have a little fun around here.”

As I’m passing into the covered area under the stands, I nod to the guards standing watch.

“I need a shower,” I mutter.

“Hello hello! What’s this? It appears someone is having fun around here.” My brother grabs my shoulder, stopping me. “Is hummer in the royal vernacular? Ha! And it’s all over the blogs…”

The last thing I care about is tabloid news. “I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass—” The words die in my throat as my brother shoves his smartphone in my face, and I immediately recognize the billiard room at our estate in Occitan. “What the hell?”

On the screen is a blurry image of me leaning against the wall. My head is back and my eyes are closed. On her knees in front of me is a blonde I know too well, her head level at my crotch.

“Shit!” I snatch the phone, adrenaline spiking in my veins.

“Now who was this young lady?” Cal teases, elbowing my side. “Is she practicing her genuflection?”

Tags: Tia Louise Billionaire Romance
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