“That’s the right answer.” His lips lingered on mine for a moment before he pulled back and examined me. “How was the plane ride? Do you want me to draw you a bath?”
Warmth dripped from my chest into my stomach.
“It was okay.” Eleven hours was a long time to spend in the air, but the private jet’s luxurious amenities prevented any bad flare-ups. The seats had pressure-relief cushions, and I could walk around and stretch my legs whenever I started getting stiff. They even had a heated massage chair onboard. “I can take a bath later. Right now, I need to eat. I’m starving.”
While Asher ordered us room service, I explored our home for the next three days. The suite was twice the size of my flat in London. Its living room boasted a home theatre system and a state-of-the-art universal remote while the lavish dining room was big enough to accommodate eight. Delamonte soaps and gels lined the bathroom’s double marble vanity, and a wall of one-way tinted windows provided a dazzling view of the Tokyo cityscape. There was even a grand piano and a balcony with a second dining area.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Asher came up beside me as I stared out at the sea of lights below us. “Makes me want to watch
Tokyo Drift again. Do you think Sloane will consider that ‘stepping foot near’ a sports car?”
Exasperated laughter erupted from my lips. “Don’t even joke about that. She will actually castrate you, you know, and she’ll spin it into a good PR move too. She’s terrifying.”
He grinned. “That’s why I pay her the big bucks. She puts up with a lot of shit from me.”
“Mmhmm.” I could only imagine. Being a celebrity publicist sounded like the most stressful job ever. “Like your car crashes over the past few years?”
I didn’t ask the question with the intention of being combative. It came out soft, almost hesitant, but the ease with which it escaped proved it’d always been there, lurking beneath the layers of my denial and avoidance.
Asher’s grin faded. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “Like the crashes.”
We’d avoided the topic all summer, but Sloane’s warning had ripped my layers to shreds and bared the ten-ton elephant in the room.
My hang-ups about cars and driving were known quantities. That was why Asher hired Earl to drive me to training every week and why he was careful to stick to the traffic rules when I was with him.
But I didn’t know what he was like when I wasn’t there. Was he the same guy who made headlines for destroying his Ferrari in an illegal street race with another footballer? The one whose off-pitch antics fed into the controversy of his transfer because people worried his recklessness would eventually catch up with him and screw the whole team over?
I hadn’t asked because I hadn’t wanted to know the answer, but the question was out there now, and there was no taking it back.
“Sloane’s warning about staying away from sports cars.” My next words stuck in my throat before I forced them out. “Was that a general warning, or do you still race?”
I hated doubting him, but I had to know.
Even racing in official competitions like Formula One was dangerous, and those had safety measures in place. I’d seen footage from a few illegal street races. They were the Wild West, and the likelihood of injury or arrest was even higher than in sanctioned racing.
Asher stilled, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. Tension coated the air like oil spilled over water.
“Not often,” he said. “I haven’t done it in a while.”
“When was the last time you raced?” I didn’t want to turn our first night in Japan into an interrogation, but I’d already opened Pandora’s box.
We might as well see it through to the end.
Shadows flickered in his eyes. “Earlier in the summer. Early July.”
Early July.
Barbs hooked into my throat. That was more recent than I’d anticipated. It was before we officially got together, but it was around the time of our first kiss.
“Does it bother you?” Asher asked quietly. “Me racing.”
“I…” I tried to wrestle my thoughts into some semblance of coherence before I answered.
I knew he loved the thrill, and I didn’t want to take that away from him. But every time he got behind the wheel, he put his career and his life in danger. Could I really sit by and let him take that risk without pointing out the dangers? He’d been lucky so far, but all it took was one stroke of bad luck to end everything.
I knew that better than anyone.
“It worries me,” I finally said. “Regular driving is dangerous enough. Accidents happen every day, but cars are an essential part of modern life. It’s a risk we have to take. Street racing is more than that.” My voice sank into a tremulous whisper. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. I don’t want you to lose your dreams or…”
Die.
The word wedged in my chest and clung on with bloodied nails, like it was trying to hide from the inevitability of its own passing.
I couldn’t imagine a world where Asher didn’t exist-where I didn’t hear his voice teasing me or see his smile beckoning me from across the room, where his heartbeats didn’t sync with mine when we fell asleep and where I didn’t have a constant safe harbor in the storm.
I couldn’t imagine a me without him, and that terrified me more than anything else.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes.
“Scarlett.” Asher sounded anguished as he pulled me into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“You don’t know that.” The tears trickled down my cheeks.
God, this is humiliating.
I was ruining our first night overseas together, but I couldn’t stop. I’d spent years running from my fears, but the prospect of losing him was so overwhelming that I couldn’t outrun it. It swamped me, dragging me under waves of anxiety and horrible, bloody what-ifs.
I raised my head to look at him. “I used to think I was invincible. I was young and healthy and on top of the world. I thought nothing could happen to me, but I was wrong.” Emotion clogged my throat. “The thing is, I couldn’t have prevented my accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s up to the universe. But street racing…you’re choosing to put yourself in that position.”
Asher’s face crumpled. “Darling…”
“No.” I shook my head and wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “Please let me finish. I know you love racing. I do. I don’t want to discount that, and I don’t want to tell you how to live your life. But I can’t wake up every day wondering if that’s the day your luck runs out, and I’ll get a call saying you’re gone.” My words cracked. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” His voice sounded thick, or maybe that was the weight in my chest talking. “You won’t because I won’t race anymore. I don’t need it, but I need you.”
Another sob bled out, formed of relief and a dozen other feelings I couldn’t name.
When I was younger, my friends and I tried to guess what our future partners’ professions would be. I didn’t care much at the time, but I was adamant about not dating anyone in emergency services. No firefighters, no police, no one whose job involved them running headfirst into danger for a living.
In theory, a footballer should be safe, but there was nothing safe about my feelings for Asher.
Maybe I was selfish for asking him to give up something he loved. If that was the case, then so be it.
I would rather be selfish with him alive and healthy than selfless with him buried beneath the ground.
Asher tightened his hold on me. “I won’t race anymore,” he repeated. “I promise.”
ASHER
I should’ve felt more conflicted after I promised Scarlett I would stop racing. Getting behind the wheel had been my version of therapy for so long, so giving it up should’ve engendered some resistance.
Maybe that’d come the next time I heard about a race or got a message about a new Bugatti from my car guy. In the meantime, I felt…nothing. Nothing except regret and a fierce, yearning desire never to make Scarlett cry again.
I had no idea she felt that way about my racing, but I should’ve known. Her past with cars made our conversation that first night in Tokyo inevitable. On the bright side, it meant everything was uphill from there.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.