I should’ve cut it off when it began, but my body is like gasoline, and he just lit the fire … he knows exactly what makes me burn.
He’s known it all along, how to get me to do things. He’s always been like that, manipulative, always getting his way. And the worst part of it all is that I can never get enough.
It’s bad, it’s dangerous, and it’s so not okay. Especially considering the fact that we’re family now and family doesn’t fuck each other. At least not in the literal sense. Our relationship ended when we were teens, and it should’ve stayed that way.
But now … I don’t know what’s happening now. It’s as if I’m floating between wantonness and deep-seated hatred, and I can’t pick a side.
Crossing my arms across my chest, I watch him get on the bike and wait for a signal, and then he races off, always faster than everyone else does. Others catch up with him really quick, though, as he’s sloppy on the corners. He hasn’t perfected the slide with his knee yet, and each time he makes such a sharp corner, I’m afraid he might fall off the bike and get into a horrible accident.
I’m not even sure why I’m so worried; I mean, he’s Chris King, he knows how to fucking ride a motorcycle. I’ve seen so myself, especially last night. But still, I feel like I always have to watch his back. I shouldn’t even be doing this, supporting him, being here. It creates unwanted tension. I only came because he invited me last week, but that was before …
Dammit, I really have to stop thinking about him and his goddamn addictive kisses.
I grab my purse and take out my phone, determined to get my mind off Chris King. He might be deliciously sexy, but he’s still that same guy from before, that asshole who only cared about himself and his needs. He can’t be my … boyfriend. No, what the hell, what would his parents think? His mother is my stepmother now … and I’m the stepsister of the family. They would never accept us together.
Sighing, I wait until the race is over, but I feel sorry when Chris doesn’t win. His opponent is beaming, and Chris throws his helmet to the floor like a stubborn kid who didn’t get what he wanted. Then he storms off to his room, not even caring about the race anymore. It almost seems like this is the first time he’s lost, but that can’t be possible, because it isn’t human to always win. Is it just his temper today? Or is something else the matter?
Regardless, I can’t think about it too much. I have to arrange a couple of interviews for him, and I have to make sure he’s ready and pumped for the next race. That’s my job, and I should stick to what I’m good at. No more confused Emily. There’s no more room in me for that. I just have to stick to what I know, which is not involving myself with family unless it’s utterly necessary.
I make my way down the bleachers, but then my stepmother suddenly pulls me with her. “Come with me, Emily.”
“No, wait, I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I have to work,” I say.
“Work can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” I say, but she’s still dragging me along.
“Yes, it can.” Her voice is stern. “You need to relax every now and then. Take a breather. I don’t want you to work yourself to death.”
She’s one to talk.
“Where are we going anyway?” I ask, stumbling after her.
“You’ll see.”
Ten minutes later and I’m celebrating the victory of another racer, whose name was conveniently Victor as well, which makes me snigger. Of course, I’m the only one who finds it remotely amusing, but that’s okay. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here, drinking champagne with people I don’t even know, but my stepmother kind of dragged me into it, and it’s rude to step out. Besides, maybe I’ll create new professional ties here; that’s always good for the business.
“So, Emily, you work for a PR agency?” Victor asks me with his French-like accent. I’m not sure what it is or where he’s from, but it sounds luxurious.
“Ah, yeah, I organize interviews and control what is released to the media.” I take the last sip of my champagne.
“Oh, fascinating,” he says, handing me another glass.
“Oh, no, thank you,” I say, but he shoves it in my hand anyway.
“I insist.” The sparkle in his eyes makes me a little apprehensive, but I have to admit, he is handsome. Different from Chris. Not rugged or dirty in a sexy way, but more sophisticated and delicately sexy. It’s a breath of fresh air, but at the same time, I’m still not sure what in the hell I’m doing here.
“I should really be going actually,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Why?” my mother suddenly intervenes. “You’ve only just introduced yourself to Victor.”
I blush. “Why is it so important to you?”
“Oh, did she not tell you?” Victor says, smiling coyly.
“What?” I glance at her with brows drawn together, wondering what she’s been up to now.
“I think you two should get to know each other better,” she says with a gentle shrug. Oh, dear god. Did she just really say that? Is this what I think it is?
“You … this is …” My face turns beet-red. “Oh, my god.”
“Oh, Emily, don’t make such a fuss. Just enjoy the party.” Tricia waves and walks back into the crowd.
“Tricia!” I yell after her, but she ignores me completely.
“What’s wrong?” Victor says.
I rub my lips together, wondering if I should explain it to him or if it would make me come across as some sort of creepy stalker weirdo. “Um … I think my stepmother kind of wanted to … play the matchmaker.” I clear my throat, but it’s not helping me getting rid of this lump in my throat.
He smiles, like broadly, teeth and all, and I’m just flabbergasted at his response. “Matchmaking as in a date? With a beautiful lady such as yourself? I wouldn’t mind.” He smirks. “It’s weird. But in a cute way.”
I smile a little and decide that it might not be that bad after all. I mean, my stepmother can be annoying at times, but this might actually be a great idea. What other way do I have to get over Chris? It’s not as if we can be together anyway, no matter whether I want to or not … This man isn’t part of my family, and it would be a hell of a lot less complicated.
I take another sip of the champagne. Already feeling intoxicated, I make the decision to just go for it. I have nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain.
“Well, Victor. Tell me about yourself,” I say, placing my hand on his upper arm. A classic flirt. Subtle but to the point.
Right when he opens his mouth to talk, the door is smashed open.
In steps Chris, with a face that predicts thunder.
Oh, crap. Shit’s about to go down.
Chapter 21
Emily
Chris storms through the room, shoving away the tables, spilling drinks everywhere, and pushing people aside as if they’re mere obstacles in his way. His eyes are blazing, furiously hot, and the moment they settle on me, I freeze in place, overcome by the primal agony edged on his face.
“Who is he?” Chris yells.
He’s not walking straight. At first, I thought it was from the rage, but then seeing him walk criss-cross makes me think he drank too much instead.
“Chris?” I say as he comes toward me.
“Victor?” he yells, his eyes widening, and then narrowing again. “You …”
“Calm down,” I say, but the moment he reaches us, he’s got his fist palmed and an attack is imminent. “No!” I yell, grabbing his arm, blocking him from hurting Victor. “Chris, stop! What are you doing?” I scream.
“You son of a bitch!” Chris yells in a drunken slur. “Get your hands off her.”
Victor steps back. “I’m not even touching her.”
“I saw you,” Chris says.
“Chris, calm the fuck down before you get your ass kicked,” I growl, pushing him back when he tries to attack Victor again.
“The only one kicking ass here is me.” I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Victor says.