He opened the Bugatti’s door and tossed his bag onto the passenger seat. The interior was luxe, with cream leather and chrome finishes, the elegant Bugatti logo emblazoned on the center of the steering wheel. He started it, the engine’s rumble spreading a satisfied smile across his face. He backed the car out of the driveway, taking the long way to the WFC offices, savoring the drive as he enjoyed his new toy.
By the time he pulled up in front of the WFC headquarters, he was almost thirty minutes late, but he was officially out of fucks to give where Craig Darcy was concerned. But then he saw Ashlynn standing in front of the building, her arms crossed, her face tense, and he immediately felt guilty. He pushed the guilt away with a smile, imagining all the ways he could make it up to her.
He slid the Bugatti into a space near the front doors, and as soon as the engine was off, he could hear the click of her heels on the walkway. She slowed as she approached, and he stepped out of the car. She wore a mint-green dress with a white blazer over it, her hair falling in loose waves down her back. He felt something in his chest soften as he stared at her, and his mouth quirked up in a smile. But she didn’t return it. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him.
“No Ferrari this morning?” she asked, one slender eyebrow arched.
He leaned against the Bugatti’s door, arms and ankles crossed. “You like?”
She didn’t answer his question. “Where did this come from?”
His smile faltered, and he turned, busying himself with getting his bag from the passenger seat.
“Jesus Christ, did you steal it?” The frustration dripped from her voice, so different from the way she’d been with him last night. As though she’d put all those shields back up, full force.
He swung his bag over his shoulder and took a few steps toward her. “Amada, I have an $800 million trust fund. I don’t need to steal anything.” He gestured at the car. “I won it.”
Her jaw clenched. “What do you mean, you won it?”
“In a race. Last night.”
Something in her expression softened just a bit, but he wasn’t sure why. But then she seemed to steel herself against whatever it was she was feeling and pointed angrily at the car.
“I can’t believe you! Do you have any idea how dangerous street racing is? Not to mention illegal? Oh my God, if the press found out about this . . .” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you when you keep pulling shit like this. And we’re not just talking punching some douche in a strip club. No, no, we’re talking doing something illegal and so fucking dangerous I can’t even wrap my mind around it! What if you’d hurt someone? Someone innocent? What if you’d gotten arrested? God!” She let out an anguished grunt and jammed her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. “You never think about others. Only yourself, and I’m sick of it. I barely know you, and I’m sick of it.”
He took a step toward her, trying to ignore the way her words hit him like sharp kicks. Every fighter knew that you never let on when your opponent landed a wounding blow. But his skin felt too tight, too hot, and he pushed a hand through his hair, his stomach churning uncomfortably.
“You want to drive it?” he asked, extending the keys toward her, unsure how to get things back to the way they’d been the day before, when she’d invited him in.
Her face went red, her eyes wide. “No, I don’t want to drive it!” She let out a frustrated grunt. “You’re unbelievable. Just get inside.”
With what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug, he pocketed the keys and followed her inside, holding the door for her. He dipped his head as she passed, inhaling the scent of orange blossoms floating from her skin. “I like it when you get bossy,” he said, dropping his voice low.
She stopped and turned to face him, only inches away. “Your stupid car looks like the Batmobile.”
He scoffed. “I know you’re only saying that because you’re angry.”
She didn’t respond, walking ahead of him into the lobby. His cock thickened at the sight of her ass in that dress, swaying back and forth as she mounted the stairs.
“Do you know what this meeting’s about?” he asked, grasping for something else to focus on besides his gnawing guilt and how badly he wanted to apologize to her by tasting every inch of her skin.
She reached the landing and turned, shaking her head. “No. So just . . . let me do the talking, okay?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment and followed her down the hall to the open door of Craig Darcy’s office.
“Finally,” he muttered as they sat down in the pair of chairs facing him. Darcy didn’t look up in greeting, instead jabbing impatiently at the screen of his tablet. Without a word, he turned it to face them. A short Instagram video started playing on the screen. It showed Leandro celebrating at the end of last night’s race.
Ashlynn sighed and leaned back in her chair, and Leandro’s guilt grew claws and dug in further. Not only had he done something dangerous, illegal, and irresponsible, but now it was Ashlynn’s problem. Shit, what if he’d jeopardized her job with this? He hadn’t even thought of that last night.
“Where did that come from?” she asked, taking the tablet from Darcy and watching it again.
“Some kid uploaded it to Instagram. MMA Addict found it and called looking for a comment. They claim they have an extended version, and we need to convince them not to run it.” Darcy pushed a hand through his hair and leveled his gaze at Ashlynn. “I’m disappointed. This happened on your watch, Ashlynn.”
She squared her shoulders and handed the tablet back. “I know, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“It damn well better not.”
As much as it chafed him that they were talking about him as though he wasn’t even there, the way Ashlynn was getting shit for something he’d done bothered him even more. He cleared his throat. “Don’t blame her for this. She had no idea. This is one hundred percent on me. Ashlynn’s doing a good job.” He shot her a sheepish glance. “Even if I’m making it difficult for her.”
A silence fell over the room, as though neither Ashlynn nor Darcy fully believed what he was saying. But something in her eyes softened, just a little, and her shoulders relaxed. She leaned back in her chair as she spoke. “I’ll reach out to MMA Addict and see if they’d be willing to trade us—they don’t cover the street racing in exchange for an exclusive interview with Leandro. And I’ll see what I can do about getting that video taken down.”
Darcy nodded, taking the tablet back. “That sounds like a plan. And you,” he said, turning his attention to Leandro. “Get your shit together, or you’re gone. Final warning.”
Leandro nodded for Ashlynn’s sake, and hers alone. What did he have to lose where the WFC was concerned? A fight he was too good for? A league that didn’t really even want him?
Craig returned his attention to Ashlynn. “Make sure these out-of-town events go smoothly. I don’t want to be fielding phone calls about strip clubs in New York, or racing in Miami. I don’t have the time or the patience for any of that bullshit. You want a full-time gig here, you need to show me you can handle it. You got it?”
Ashlynn nodded, her face slightly pale. “Not a problem. I’m already booked on an early flight to New York Monday morning.”
Leandro frowned. “Minha linda, when you’re with me, you don’t fly commercial. I’ll send a car to pick you up. Lots of room on my private jet.”
Uncertainty flickered across her face. “Fine.”
Darcy’s phone rang and he answered it, shooing them out of his office with a flick of his hand. Ashlynn rose and quickly made for the door, as though she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Well. Wasn’t this going to be a fun little trip?
“MOM!” ASHLYNN’S VOICE rang through the small house as she closed the door behind her. A pot of her mother’s famous beef stew bubbled on the stove. It smelled wonderful, comforting and familiar. Just what she needed after getting her ass chewed out that mornin
g by Craig Darcy and spending the afternoon chasing down that video of Leandro racing. To top it off, she’d had the pleasure of begging MMA Addict not to run it. In the end they’d agreed in exchange for a couple of fighter exclusives, but that hadn’t helped her stress headache go away. To be fair, she’d woken up with it after dealing with Jason last night, followed by her idiotic decision to invite Leandro in for a drink.
Ugh, what had she been thinking?
Shaking her head, she peeked down the short hallway of the single-story ranch-style home. Both bedroom doors were closed. “Mom? Where are you?”
“I’m in the bathroom. The faucet started leaking.” Her mom’s voice came through the open door of the tiny bathroom off the hall.
Ashlynn looked inside the room and saw her mom lying on the floor, the top half of her slender body hidden inside the cabinet, her legs blocking the entryway. Ashlynn’s gaze touched on the tub with the pristine white tile surround, the toilet, and small vanity, wondering how the three of them had ever shared such a small space. “Do you want me to call a plumber?”
“Why?” There was a grunt as her mom struggled to tighten something. “I just had to change a washer.” Apparently successful, she pushed out from under the cabinet and sat up, giving Ashlynn a smile. “What have I told you?”
Ashlynn smiled back but rolled her eyes as she walked toward the kitchen with her mom on her heels. Another day, another lecture. “I know, I know. If you can do it yourself, you don’t have to depend on anyone else.”
“That’s right.” Her mom gave a little victory pump of her fist before setting the wrench down on the kitchen counter and washing her hands. Streaks of gold from the sunset came in through the window, highlighting the wrinkles that were starting to show around her eyes and mouth. Her mom had been a knockout when she’d been younger and was still quite pretty at fifty-two. Ashlynn and Kayla had inherited her blond hair, though her mom bleached hers now to hide the gray.
“Do you want bread?” Ashlynn asked. She preheated the oven and took out a package of prebaked dinner rolls from the pantry. Having grown up in this house, she knew her way around this kitchen better than her own.
“Yes, thank you.”
“The stew smells great,” she said, pulling out a few rolls and placing them in a pan. “I need comfort food after the shitty day I had.”
“Oh.” Her mom looked over her shoulder, drying her hands on a towel. “What happened?”
Buttering the rolls, Ashlynn gave her mom a brief rundown of her horrible morning and busy afternoon. She was careful not to mention Leandro’s name. Maybe because saying it would bring him into her personal life somehow, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about him or the fact that she’d invited him in last night.
“That seems stressful, but it sounds like you handled it.” Her mom patted her on the shoulder and gave her a warm smile.
“Yeah, I did. I think I’m just worried about something that happened last night, and then today on top of it is just too much. Do you remember that guy I told you about from the gym? The one I had to make leave my house?”
“Ugh. Ashlynn, you can’t date guys like that. It’s always bad news.”
“I know, Mom.” It was a mistake she was trying her best not to repeat, and she didn’t want another lecture about it. Jason had been a pretty big break from the guys she normally dated. That was exactly why he’d seemed so appealing at the time. He’d come on pretty strong, but she’d liked that about him. That he’d been willing to come over and ask her out on the spot. Turned out his self-confidence had only been a cover for the asshole he was underneath. “Anyway, he showed up at work as I was leaving. Came up to me in the parking lot and there was this big scene.”
“What? Did you call the cops?” Her mom’s brow furrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest.
Ashlynn shook her head and put the rolls in the oven to brown. “No, one of the guys came over and ran him off. I’m not sure he would’ve left if I’d been alone.”
“That’s it. I’m getting you some pepper spray and don’t even try to talk me out of it again.” She wagged her finger at Ashlynn. “You just keep it on your key chain and it’s there if you need it.”
“I’m not carrying that stuff.” Ashlynn shook her head. Her mom had been trying to force it on her since college.
“Ashlynn, what have I told you about men? You can’t trust them.” Her mom leaned back against the counter, lightly gripping the edge. “When we were first married, Bruce had a friend, a guy he worked with at the shop. His name was Eric, and he and your dad would ride their motorcycles together on the weekends. He was the nicest guy. Too nice to be hanging around Bruce. He’d come over for dinner sometimes, and I felt bad for him because he was new in town and didn’t know anyone. Plus he was very cute.”
“Oh God, are you going to tell me you cheated on Dad? Because I don’t want to hear that.”
“No, just listen.” Her mom made a face and shook her head. “Anyway, Bruce usually passed out every night and Eric and I would stay up talking. You wouldn’t believe how understanding he was. I’d honestly started to think that maybe he was the one for me, not your father. But one night Bruce passed out in the bedroom and Eric and I were talking on the couch and the next thing I knew he was all over me. He wouldn’t stop. I called for Bruce, but of course he was no help. Thank God I managed to grab my purse off the table and get to my pepper spray.”
“That’s horrible.” Ashlynn stepped over to her mom and touched her arm.
“It was, but it was my fault. I should’ve known better. He was a bad boy—granted, he was wrapped in a nicer package than your dad, but I shouldn’t have trusted him.” She waved her hand at Ashlynn’s obvious concern and grabbed a couple of bowls from the cabinet.
“Mom, that wasn’t your fault. You know that right? He was your friend. You had every reason to think you’d be okay with him.”
“Oh, I know that. I just mean that I shouldn’t have let my guard down.” She set the bowls on the counter and gently grabbed Ashlynn by the shoulders. “And you shouldn’t either. If there’s one thing I want you and Kayla to learn from my mistakes, it’s that you can’t count on anyone but yourselves. I know it sounds harsh, but it’s true. A man will let you down every time, especially those who’ve shown themselves to be selfish and full of themselves. Make sure you don’t put yourself in the position to be hurt by one.”
Ashlynn frowned as she thought about Leandro. No matter how warm and sensitive he could be at times, it’d be a mistake to trust him. Her mom was right about that. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. He only wanted to have fun, and she’d end up hurt. He wasn’t worth the risk.
Unfortunately, she didn’t think pepper spray would be a convenient solution to that problem. She needed to figure out how to stay away from him while simultaneously working with him. And that was a problem she had no idea how to solve.
7
“UM . . . A BLACK car just pulled up in front.” Kayla, Ashlynn’s younger sister, peeked out through the curtains in Ashlynn’s bedroom.
“Crap! Is it eight o’clock already?” Ashlynn hurried over and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Yep. Eight a.m. exactly. Perfect. Dropping her phone, she went to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her closet door. She’d packed her bags the night before and spent the past hour on her hair and makeup, twice as long as it usually took her. She’d only meant to do light makeup and a ponytail, but somehow that had morphed into a complete blowout with wavy ends, and five lipstick changes before she’d found the right shade of red.
And now she couldn’t seem to figure out what to wear. She’d put on a pair of tight blue pants and matched them with a pair of cute strappy sandals—she’d change into business attire once they reached the hotel. Leandro’s first interview wasn’t until later that day. But she couldn’t decide on the shirt. “Okay, I’ve narrowed it down to these two.” She held up her favorite white button-down blouse, which she wore tucked in. She
liked it because it made her waist look small, and the buttons didn’t strain around her breasts. “Or this one.” She replaced the blouse with a tunic in a silver-and-white chevron pattern. She liked it because it covered her ass.
Kayla looked over. She was sleepy, still in her pajamas as she nursed a cup of coffee. At twenty-four, she was still in school part-time. She hoped to become a teacher, but kept dropping out when her latest man drama made her miss too many classes. Like their matching blond hair and green eyes, horrible taste in men ran in the family—another reminder that this obsession with Leandro had to stop.
Kayla lived at home with their mom, so any time Ashlynn went out of town she took the opportunity to house-sit and enjoy having her own space for a while. Ashlynn liked the idea that her house wouldn’t sit empty while she was gone, and Kayla always took good care of the place.
“Definitely the white one,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Ashlynn scrunched up her nose and turned to get a good look at her backside in the mirror. She’d always had a love-hate relationship with her butt. “It doesn’t make my butt look too big?”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “You have a great ass. Why are you being so weird?” Then she tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Do you like him?”
Ashlynn frowned. “Who?”
“Leandro Oliveira.”
Ashlynn shook her head. She was being neurotic because of Leandro. He’d gotten under her skin. While it was a bit of a stretch to say she liked him, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to make him notice her, to drive him as crazy as he drove her, even though absolutely nothing could happen between them. Not only was he her client, but he was completely wrong for her. A disaster waiting to happen. He was too . . . everything. Too rich, too entitled, too cocky, too mind-meltingly attractive. Too dangerous, on so many levels. Which was why she should choose the tunic. It kept everything covered.
No Contest Page 7
