The Princess and the Prix

by Nell Stark

  The drink arrived, and Billy carefully floated Bacardi 151 on top before setting the liquid afire with his lighter. “Always reminds me of a phoenix.” He shot her a crooked smile. “Will life imitate art?”

  The phoenix: a legendary bird that, when it died, was consumed in self-immolation only to hatch again and rise from its own ashes. Billy was trying to inspire her, but all Thalia could think of was how exhausting it must be for the poor, mythical avian to cobble itself back together out of cinders. Still, he was always kind to her. She couldn’t let him down.

  “Sure,” she said and raised her glass. “Cheers.”

  The blue flames flickering from its mouth had attracted the attention of a group of passers-by who wanted to know what the concoction was called and how to order one. A few decided to be so bold, and for several minutes, Billy had his work cut out for him. But one woman kept looking over her shoulder at Thalia, and then just as quickly looking away when their eyes met. Thalia continued sipping calmly but feared she had been recognized.

  Sure enough, once the woman had her drink in hand, she approached. Strawberry blond and freckled, wearing a stretchy white T-shirt that clung to her torso and clearly revealed her lack of a bra, she managed to seem at once sexy and wholesome.

  “You’re Thalia d’Angelis,” she said.

  “I am.” Intrigued that someone not a regular at the club would be able to recognize her from one brief encounter, Thalia made just enough room at the bar for them to stand side by side, shoulders touching. “And you are?”

  “Danielle Collins. You can call me Dani.” Her words had a subtle Australian accent to them. Less subtle was the way she leaned her shoulder against Thalia’s—not that she minded. “The video of your post-race speech is viral, did you know?”

  Thalia nodded. Her agent had called to break the news while she was on the train. He had been so upset with her that she had fired him on the spot. Why not? She wasn’t going to get another job in GP2, and Formula One might as well be the moon. Her future was about as bright as its dark side. Blackballed from motorsport, what could she do? Racing had always been her life. She was a one-trick pony.

  “You’re a fucking hero.”

  Dani’s adulation roused her from the spiral of pity into which she had allowed herself to descend. She was now the second person to praise Thalia, presumably for her courage in standing up to “the man,” as embodied by Ferrari. Racing might no longer be an option, but perhaps she could do advocacy work?

  Thalia almost snorted into her martini. Advocacy work? She didn’t want to be some pretty, quasi-famous chess piece in the struggle for civil rights. She wanted to push the boundaries of speed. She wanted to stand on the top step of an F1 podium and force the world to admit they’d been wrong about her place in it. Now, all of those dreams were out of reach.

  The warmth of Dani’s forearm pressed against hers reminded Thalia that not everything was out of reach. “I’m glad you think so,” she said.

  For the rest of the night, she wanted to forget all about the chauvinist bullshit and focus on enjoying the company of another woman. And unless she was completely misreading Dani’s touchy-feelyness, she was interested in the same thing.

  As a test case, Thalia leaned into Dani’s space, positioning her mouth a fraction of an inch away from Dani’s ear. The light shiver that greeted her movements was an excellent sign. “I think we need some flaming shots to complement our flaming martinis. You?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She signaled to Billy, who approached them within seconds. “What can I do for you, ladies?”

  “We need a round of shots that are on fire.”

  He laughed. “I know just the thing.”

  Within minutes, Billy had them licking sugar off each other’s wrists and knocking back a concoction that tasted like butterscotch. As soon as Thalia triumphantly slammed her glass onto the bar, Dani flung her arms around Thalia’s neck and kissed her. Thalia responded automatically, kissing her with equal force and turning Dani so her back was pressed against the bar. Better friction that way. When the onlookers nearby erupted into hollers and catcalls, Thalia gave them the finger with one hand while cupping Dani’s butt with the other.

  When Dani’s hand snaked between their bodies to tweak Thalia’s nipple, Thalia pulled back with a laugh. “Feisty, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re complaining,” Dani said, licking her lips.

  “Not by a long shot.” Thalia tilted her head toward the bar. “Another?”

  After their second round, Thalia managed to claim a barstool for Dani, and in between bouts of kissing and fondling, they finished their drinks. As much as Thalia wanted to get utterly shit-faced, she was here alone and couldn’t afford to be that vulnerable. Besides, she had ulterior motives for the evening that involved remaining semi-functional. So when Billy asked if she wanted a refill of her Gaytini, she forced herself to say no and to close out her tab instead.

  When she returned from signing the receipt, Thalia rested both hands on the chair on either side of Dani’s thighs and leaned in close. “Do you have a bedroom of your own?”

  Dani’s eyes widened and she nodded. “My flat’s in Fulham and my roommate’s going home with her boyfriend tonight.”

  “Perfect. Once you’ve finished with that”—Thalia indicated Dani’s drink—“why don’t you take me home with you.”

  Dani raised the glass to her mouth and downed it in three long swallows. Thalia, beguiled by the inviting expanse of her neck, trailed a series of kisses up to her ear and flicked lightly at the freckled lobe.

  “Ready?”

  “God, yes.”

  As Dani hopped down, Thalia tossed a fifty-pound note onto the bar. She might end up poor as a church mouse now that she would be blackballed from motorsport, but tonight she wanted to live generously.

  The half-hour odyssey to Dani’s flat was spent scandalizing the other Tube riders. Dani spent the ride curled up against Thalia’s side, provocatively stroking up and down the inner seams of her jeans while Thalia kissed her languorously. Three separate times, people entered the train and rode one stop with them, only to switch to another car as soon as possible. Thalia couldn’t understand why they didn’t stay and watch, but that was their business.

  By the time they reached Dani’s stop, Thalia’s desire had been honed to a razor’s edge. After so much teasing, all she could think about was getting Dani naked and then reciprocating. She planned to make her wait, no matter how much begging she might resort to.

  The lift in Dani’s building was old and narrow, featuring one of those metal accordion doors. As soon as Thalia pulled it shut, Dani was pressing her to the wall, hands on her shoulders and mouth on her neck. Automatically, Thalia’s arms circled her waist.

  “You’re so fucking hot.”

  This was a sentiment Thalia had heard before, and she never knew how to reply. Instead, she ran her fingers through Dani’s hair and pulled her closer, hoping her actions would speak louder than words. When Dani groaned softly and circled her hips, Thalia knew her tactic had worked. She let her hands trail down Dani’s spine and then beneath the hem of her shirt, sighing in pleasure when her fingertips found soft, warm skin. Touching another woman was always such a lovely and gratifying odyssey of discovery.

  The lift lurched to a halt and Dani grabbed her hand, pulling her into the hallway. As soon as they were inside, Thalia backed her up against the wall. Panting with need, she forced herself to slow down temporarily.

  “This okay?” She always made it a point to ask, though she would have bet all her savings on Dani’s affirmative answer.

  “Yes,” Dani breathed.

  Thalia smiled. “Good. Then let’s get rid of this.” She tugged at the hem of Dani’s shirt and was gratified by how quickly she divested herself of it. Her breasts were full and firm and tipped with nipples the color of dusky rose petals that hardened as Thalia feasted her eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I want to see y
ou.” But when Dani began to undress her, Thalia took one step back. She wanted to be firmly in control of this situation.

  “I’ll let you. But only if you stand there with your palms against the wall and don’t move.”

  “Oh fuck,” Dani murmured, and Thalia knew she had judged correctly that Dani didn’t want to be the aggressor in this encounter.

  Thalia took her time ridding herself of her shirt, but her own need incited her to shed her bra quickly. When she stepped forward again, Dani’s arms began to extend until she apparently remembered the rules. She slapped her palm against the wall in clear frustration, but moaned loudly when Thalia captured both nipples between her fingers.

  “How about this? Okay?”

  “Better than o—oh.” Dani’s hips bucked as Thalia pinched lightly. “Yes, fuck yes.”

  Thalia played with them gently, thrilling to the sounds of Dani’s labored breaths and truncated moans. When she slid her thigh between Dani’s legs, she moaned again.

  “Harder,” Dani whispered without opening her eyes. “You can—oh!”

  Completely intoxicated by the sounds of Dani’s passion, Thalia lowered her head to swallow the rest of her exclamation in a kiss. She alternated the pressure of her fingers—teasing, always teasing—until Dani was writhing against her in a desperate effort to get some relief.

  Thalia dropped to one knee and stroked up and down Dani’s fly. “May I?”

  Dani nodded frantically. “Yours too.”

  Thalia peeled the pants down Dani’s legs and then shucked off her own jeans, throwing both across the room where they landed on the sofa. She turned back to the sight of Dani, clad only in her black bikini underwear, a beautiful flush spreading down her neck and across her freckled chest.

  “Gorgeous,” Thalia breathed, and leaned in to kiss her stomach.

  And then her phone rang, chirping out the ringtone that meant she didn’t have the number on file. It was after midnight on a Saturday. Who could be calling her now that she didn’t know?

  “Is that you?” Dani asked breathlessly.

  “Forget it. Don’t worry about it.” Thalia nipped at the skin below Dani’s navel, cursing herself for not turning the damn thing off earlier. Once it stopped making noise, she gripped Dani’s restless hips and held her in place, tormenting her with sucking kisses along her rib cage and on her thighs.

  As she began to edge Dani’s underwear down her abdomen, her phone rang again. After a moment’s hesitation, Thalia decided to pretend it didn’t exist. Still on one knee, she looked up to meet Dani’s eyes. “I want to take these off.”

  “Please,” was all Dani said.

  Grinning, Thalia gripped the hem with her teeth and tugged, enjoying the sound of Dani’s giggles. Sex was supposed to be fun, and finding a partner who felt the same was always a treat. Once she had divested Dani of the scrap of fabric, Thalia leaned in, parting her folds with both thumbs and massaging lightly. Dani’s labored breaths and hitching moans were music to her ears. Who cared what the rest of the world thought of her? Right now, she was a goddess.

  The phone rang a third time, shattering the moment. Unease blossomed in Thalia’s chest, and she sat back on her heels. Had something happened to a family member, or at her apartment?

  “You should probably get that.” Dani breathlessly vocalized her thoughts. “It sounds like it might be an emergency.”

  “Yeah. I’m so sorry.” Cursing under her breath, Thalia pulled away and stumbled across the room. She fished her phone out of her pants pocket and stared at the unfamiliar number on the display before stabbing at it with her thumb.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m calling for Alistair Campbell,” said a female voice with an Irish accent. “Please hold.”

  Alistair Campbell. The name was familiar, but Thalia’s fuzzy brain couldn’t immediately place it. He must be someone important, though, because the woman was clearly his assistant.

  “Who is it?” Dani called. She was now sitting on the floor, her back against the slice of wall to which Thalia had pinned her.

  “Not a clue. Just hang on for a few minutes. Promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Dani lowered one hand to her inner thigh and began to stroke herself provocatively. “I want you to drive me hard and fast and—”

  Drive. The pieces flew together, and Thalia’s brain exploded when she realized that Alistair Campbell was none other than the manager for Petrol Macedonia, the newest Formula One team. An upstart organization owned and bankrolled by a British earl, they had defied all expectations last year by coming in third in points in the Constructors’ Championship. And when Aiglon Motors had stupidly decided to let Peter Taggart go, Petrol Macedonia had snapped him up in a heartbeat. Now, with Peter and another former world champion, Luiz Serra, as their drivers, they had a shot at making a legitimate run for the title this year.

  But why would Alistair be calling her, especially after she had opened her big mouth in France? The only logical assumption was that he needed a test driver, but surely there were many other contenders.

  “Thalia, hello,” he said, his syllables clipped and his tone brooking no nonsense.

  “It’s a pleasure to be speaking with you, Mr. Campbell.” Thalia prayed she sounded sober.

  He didn’t apologize for the lateness of the hour, or for instructing his assistant to blow up her phone until she answered it. All he said was, “I’d like you to consider joining Petrol Macedonia as our number two driver, behind Peter Taggart.”

  Thalia sat down hard in the chair over which she had thrown her pants. She suddenly couldn’t catch her breath, and tiny spots of darkness darted across the field of her vision like minnows across the surface of a pond.

  Alistair Campbell was offering her a job in Formula One.

  Thirty seconds ago, she had believed she would never be welcome at another Grand Prix circuit. Now, she was being offered her dream job—and not by a team at the bottom of the table, but by a team with the potential to legitimately contest the championship. But Campbell had said she would be joining Peter, not Serra. What had happened to him?

  “I’m very interested in your offer,” she managed to say. “But last I heard, Luiz Serra was your second driver. Has something changed?”

  There was a brief moment of silence. “We’ve not yet made this information available to the public, but he has decided to pursue Indy Car racing in America this season. We would prefer to have his replacement decided upon before the press release.”

  Thalia had so many questions, but most of them boiled down to Why me? and that wasn’t particularly productive when you didn’t want the person offering you your dream job to second-guess his decision.

  “I see,” she said, pressing one palm over her heart in an effort to calm its galloping. “I’m very interested, but of course I’ll need to see all the details of the offer.”

  “Of course. Are you free tomorrow? If so, I’d like to bring you out to headquarters so you can meet Sir Alexander, Peter, and our engineers.”

  “I’m free.”

  After hammering out the logistical details of their meeting, he signed off rather brusquely and hung up. Thalia leaned forward in the chair, clutching her phone for dear life. What on earth had just happened? Was she dreaming? Surreptitiously, she pinched the skin above her wrist. It stung.

  This was real.

  “What’s going on, baby?” Dani called from across the room. “Are you okay?”

  The unwelcome term of endearment melted the haze from Thalia’s thoughts. Immediately, one thing became clear: there was no way she could stay here tonight. She had to return to her own flat and do as much research as possible into Petrol Macedonia before trying to get at least a few hours’ sleep.

  For the first time in her life, she didn’t have time for sex.

  “I’m fine. But I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”

  “Not even for just a few more minutes?” Dani’s voice was breathy, and her hand was circling rapidly. “I’m so
ready. Touch me and you’ll find out.”

  She was gorgeous and sensual and responsive…and right now, she was a distraction. Thalia was self-aware enough to know that if she obliged Dani, she would get caught up. Now, more than any other time in her life, she had to remain focused. The dream was in reach. Nothing else mattered.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said as she hurriedly tugged on her pants. “And I feel like an ass for having to leave. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”

  “Your loss,” Dani gasped.

  It was incredibly awkward—and frustrating—to walk past her on the way out. As Thalia waited for the elevator, the thin cry of Dani’s climax reached her, and her own body tightened in unfulfilled desire. She didn’t believe in delaying gratification, and now her lack of practice was working against her. She might be her own worst enemy, but there was nothing she wanted more than Formula One.

  Thalia wasn’t going to let anything get in her way. Including herself.

  Chapter Two

  Her Serene Highness Princess Pommelina Alix Louise Canella felt like a stranger in her own sitting room. She had always been the odd child, set apart from her siblings by a preference for books over ball gowns and studying over soirees. But exceptions to the rule had their place, and for the most part, she had been content to accept hers on the fringe of her family. Now, as she perched on the sofa beside her older sister and sipped at her espresso, she felt a jarring sense of dissociation.

  Only yesterday, she had departed by horseback at sunrise from the tiny manyata in northeastern Uganda where she had spent the past three months doing fieldwork. February was planting season, and in between running her clinic, she had pitched in to help with the backbreaking work. How could she not? Farming was the work of women and children there, while the men drove their cattle far across the plateau in search of food and water. Claude and Eric, the two men in her security detail, had been strange to the villagers not for the color of their skin, but for their insistence on remaining in the community, at her side.