by Lauren Asher
“Fuck me. How many rules do you have typed up?” I cross my arms against my chest. Her eyes linger on my forearms before snapping back to my face, catching my devious smile.
She blushes as she tucks a loose wave of hair behind her ear. “Only a few more. If we both go back to the suite at night, that’s it. No leaving. I want to trust you, which means you can’t go sneaking off to do God knows what.”
“God may not know but the Devil sure approves.” My smile grows wider as her fidgety hands return to nervously twirling her pencil.
“Right…well either way, no sneaking off. This job means a ton to me and I need to be able to trust you. They’re paying me a lot of money to help you.” Her eyes dart off to the side.
“Well, love, at least the paycheck at the end of all this will keep you around. Don’t pretend you don’t get off on helping out wankers like me who are more fucked up than Donald Trump’s White House.”
“No. I get off on helping people reach their fullest potential. And I see what you can be if you move past this terrible public persona.”
“Don’t strain your eyes too hard. You may not like what you find after all.”
“I don’t need to like you to do my job.”
Well shit, she has me there.
Elena taps away on her tablet. “Last thing. I’m going to be following you pretty much everywhere. It’s a part of my contract.” She bites her lip, revealing the edge of her white teeth.
It’s concerning how she gives me a semi with a glance and a bite of her lip. My cock doesn’t understand why Elena is bad news. The worst fucking news, like worse than Prince Harry leaving the royal family, and that shit was catastrophic.
Dear cock, please meet the rock and the hard place you’ll be stuck between this season.
“Does that mean we share a bedroom? I’ve always wanted a human pillow to cuddle with.”
She lets out a mock gasp. “Would you look at that? Bedrooms are not included. Really, I plan on keeping it PG-13 between us so…”
“I hear PG-13 movies have sexy scenes now…” I let out a low whistle.
“Oh my God. Nothing like that will happen between us.”
The way her eyes light up as she laughs worries me because I’m tempted to make her do it again. I remain silent, trying to wrap my head around having to spend months with someone like her.
Google, how does one say I’m fucked in Spanish?
She shuts her iPad case closed. “Seriously, Connor didn’t include an interoffice relationship clause, but it’s kind of a given why we’re not pursuing that option.”
Of course, Connor didn’t include something like that. He wants to stake his claim on a hot piece of ass. F1 has few and far females working in the industry because women avoid our hostile workplace cloaked in sexism and manipulation.
Despite Connor not including a clause, I need to remember to keep my distance from her. No matter what, she and I can’t happen. It’s the reason I resent being around her more than necessary. She causes reactions I’m not accustomed to, ones I don’t want to explore no matter how much I like her brand of attitude.
I don’t get that kind of story.
While my friends are fit for an ending straight out of the latest cheesy rom-com, I’m better suited for the Game of Thrones’ Night’s Watch—isolated until the day I die.
4
Elena
Welcome to hell. Population: Two.
Last week when Connor called and gave me a rundown about my job this year, he told me how I needed to live with Jax. It marks my weirdest contract deal to date, but I couldn’t say no to the thousands of euros he offered. With everything at stake, I’m willing to do just about anything to revive Jax’s reputation.
Connor explained the surface-level issues with Jax and why McCoy needs him to be the best this season. With Liam switching teams this year after a falling out with McCoy’s ex-CEO, Peter, Jax is the new face of the company. This season is Jax’s best chance at winning a second World Championship.
With all the new stress, Connor’s worried Jax might crack. I’m here to make sure he handles the pressure with the added bonus of me fixing up his image.
Jax and I walk into our extravagant hotel suite. If I want to approach life more positively, I can highlight the two-thousand-square-foot space with its own dining area, sectional couch, and separate rooms. Except one look at the hulking figure next to me throws my positivity out the window of our penthouse.
No area seems large enough when I have to spend time with Jax day in, day out. I barely made it out unscathed last season working around him. Jax prevented me from getting anywhere in his vicinity besides the forced PR sessions with Liam. Any time we were in the same room, Jax avoided any conversation with me. I’d take it personally if it weren’t for the fact that most athletes hate working with PR reps.
At first when I started working with racers, I thought it was my personality. But a few years in this line of work has taught me no one likes being told what to do, especially cocky athletes who have listening skills similar to a toddler. My job helped me build a tolerance for assholes whose egos are so large, they could apply for their own zip code.
Elías asks me every year why I choose to work PR for the biggest douchebags in Europe. The answer is simple: I don’t like perfect people. The most challenging jobs are the best ones, so give me all the broken individuals who desperately need someone to help them. Those are the clients I like. The ones who are unapologetically themselves, time and time again. They’re my favorite kind because I find the journey to help them reach the top all the more exciting.
Despite my resilience and experience, Jax triggers me like no other, with his aversion toward me. I can’t understand why it bothers me, let alone understand him. But I’m not an idiot. I see how he treats others, and—newsflash—it isn’t as standoffish as he acts with me.
Does it affect my self-esteem? No.
Does it affect my patience? Hell-freaking-yes.
I don’t know what to make of him, but I’m on a mission to learn everything there is to know about him. Jax wears angst like an accessory. Black tends to be his aesthetic unless he needs to wear McCoy’s white branding. His daily wardrobe includes Doc Martens, T-shirts, and ripped jeans. He rocks jackets with slogans and decorates his tattooed fingers with rings. To put it lightly, he’s bad to the last British bone in his body.
No matter how attractive he is, his guarded hazel eyes scream to stay the hell out of his way. Not to mention his attitude toward me is about as friendly as walking down a dark alley at midnight.
“Welcome to the land of the lavish. Enjoy it while it lasts.” He waves his hand around the suite like a half-assed episode of MTV Cribs.
“Wow, way to set the bar with your warm welcome. Thank you so much.” I stare at him, trying not to linger on how his shirt highlights bulging muscles and arms covered with tattoos.
Jax coughs, getting my attention again. His eyes have a rare lightness about them. “If you want to see my tattoos up close, all you have to do is ask.”
“Not interested, but thanks for the offer.”
“Some women would beg for a chance to see them in all their glory.”
I wrinkle my nose. “If that’s what women beg for, they should reassess their priorities.”
His laugh pulls a smile from me. “Don’t knock others’ priorities. Not everyone is a masochist, volunteering to work with me.”
“That’s rich coming from the guy who enjoys blowing his career to shit as a pastime.”
He runs a hand across his stubble. “There is one thing I like blown, and I can assure you it isn’t my career.”
I hold back the laugh I desperately want to let out. “Let’s play a game: you keep quiet and not speak anymore. Your mouth is going to get you into trouble.”
“You’d be surprised by the kinds of trouble I can get into silently.” He shoots me a wicked smile.
“Surprised? Probably. Interested? Definitely not.”
> “I’m going to appreciate having you around. There’s nothing that gets me going quite like someone hell-bent on resisting me.”
“Resisting you insinuates I’m interested in anything more than helping you.”
“I vote helping me orgasm is right up there with fixing my reputation. What do you say?”
I hit him with my best get over yourself look. I grab onto my luggage and move toward my room. “I’m going to take a nap and shower before the press conference.”
“Sleeping on the job already?”
I let out a deep sigh, not in the mood for his teasing anymore. “Connor emailed you the questions and answers I came up with yesterday. Think you can manage reading them?”
“Already done.”
I freeze, caught off guard. “Really?”
“Yes, contrary to your opinion of me, I can read. Rather quickly too, if I do say so myself. Now, since I’ve been a good boy, can you set up the telly with my favorite cartoon to make sure I don’t get bored?” He throws himself onto the living room couch.
My brow arches. “Telly?” I need to google British slang because some of the things he says make no sense without context clues. Who started calling a car trunk a boot anyway?
“Televisión.” His fake Spanish accent rolls off his tongue as he points at the remote on the TV stand next to me.
I attempt with everything in me not to smile. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Choosing to ignore his request, I enter my room and shut the door behind me.
“I can do this. Think of it like any other job. A job with a man whose voice sets off every nerve ending in my body, but a job nonetheless,” I whisper to myself as I unpack my clothes.
A warm shower sets me up for success, ridding me of the jet lag I felt earlier. I lie down and shut my eyes, willing myself to find the patience to deal with Jax.
After my hour-long nap, I get dressed. A silk blouse and high-waisted paper bag pants are my usual outfit—simple, basic, and professional. My accessories include heels and my iPad.
I leave my room to find Jax lounging on the couch, tapping a booted foot against the coffee table as he lazily switches channels. His eyes rake over me. As if my body tracks the movement, my skin warms.
Wow. If this is the feeling I have from a simple look, I’m screwed for the season. Maybe the roommate idea wasn’t the best after all. He manages to cause a fluttering sensation in my stomach from one gaze and a simple tug of his lips.
“I’m impressed. You made it out with two minutes to spare.” He taps at his expensive watch. “Usually ladies are always running late.”
“Unlike the lovely company you’ve had before, I tend to be on time. Especially for schedules I create.”
“Well, I rushed so hopefully my hair looks okay.” He runs a finger through his curls, cropped to his skull on the sides, while looking wild on the top. My fingers itch to check if they’re as silky as they look. His defined facial bones appear etched from bronzed metal, perfectly balanced with soft, kissable lips.
“Your hair is fine, but your smile looks like a nightmare.” I fiddle with the strap of my tote bag.
His smile makes my skin feel like someone cranked up the thermostat in the room. “We’re going to have fun together. Nothing I like more than a girl who gives as much as she can take.”
“Somehow you make things sound more perverted than necessary.”
“It’s a talent.”
“A talent to make every sane woman run in the opposite direction of you.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want the sane ones. Where’s the fun in that?”
“For someone like you, I can imagine it’s a bit of a bore to be with someone stable.”
“I don’t know. You look stable yet I bet you’re wild in bed. Kind of like the look you get in your eye as you check me out when you think I’m not looking.”
I choke on my sudden intake of breath. “What?”
“It’s okay, love. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“About as safe as fucking a one-night stand without a condom.”
Jax lets out a loud laugh. “Maybe having you around won’t be a total nightmare after all.”
Wait, what?
He picks up his buzzing phone. “The car is here.”
I walk to the hotel door. “Let’s not be late for your first conference because that’s not a good look after everything.”
“Being good is boring, and I loathe being boring.” Jax follows me into the hall.
I hide my smile behind my hair as we walk toward the elevator. “You couldn’t be boring if you tried.”
“Careful now. You’re going to make me think you’re flirting with me.” Specks of gold and green swirl around his eyes.
“Flirting with you means I have to like you first. And well, that’s a no from me, burro.”
“Liar, liar, Elena’s cheeks are on fire.” He taps his with emphasis. A pair of snake eyes stare back at me, slithering through the fake skeleton bones inked on his hand. “You’re testing my self-esteem, but your sexy Spanish talk makes up for it.”
We enter the waiting elevator. Jax keeps his eyes focused on the elevator’s buttons as I spend the short trip explaining today’s obligations and expectations. He nods his head, easing my growing nervousness about his first publicity event since his last PR disaster.
We exit the hotel and step into the back of a waiting McCoy SUV, evidence of the lavish life Jax lives as an F1 driver. The fresh scent of lemons and leather invades my nose.
I look over at Jax, attempting to get a read on him. Last year, although I focused mainly on Liam, I was intrigued by the man sitting next to me. The little time I spent with him was enough to pique my interest and made me want to learn what weaknesses he disguises as strengths.
Jax met his match. I’m not one to back down from a challenge, especially with my future on the line. He might be a beast on the track, but I can hold my own in the PR scene.
The silence doesn’t last long between us, with Jax breaking it first.
“Why did you agree to this dumb challenge?” Jax taps his fingers against his knee to an unknown tempo.
“Because you’re a nuclear bomb waiting to deploy at the push of a red button.”
“What a fascinating visual. Have you been planning to say that one all day?” His eyes harden.
“You caught me. I spend hours thinking of my rebuttals.”
“I’d prefer for you to think of me in a different circumstance, but it’s only a matter of time.”
I tilt my head at him. “You think rather highly of yourself.”
“Quite the opposite. But I understand women find me rather irresistible.”
My scoff sounds more like a laugh. “I find you irresistibly annoying. Does that count?”
“It’s a start.”
I ignore him, not interested in flirting. He continues to move his fingers against his knee to the beat of something I can’t put my finger on.
“I never wanted this,” he mumbles while looking out the window.
“What?”
“To become this kind of guy.” His eyes meet mine as he turns his head toward me.
“And what kind of guy is that?”
“The kind who ruins things before they ever have a chance at becoming something good. The kind who needs a babysitter because they can’t be trusted.”
“It’s your choice to teeter on the edge of too much drinking and partying, functioning yet barely living. No one is forcing you to mess up your career.”
“Right. My career.” His resigned voice hints at more.
“Do you even want to win a Championship?”
His spine straightens. “If you’re asking that question, then I guess you lack the intelligence to help me. What a pity to support the old stereotype of beauty over brains.”
I grind my teeth together, fighting with everything in me to not snap at him. How does someone go from somber to full-blown asshole in a few seconds? “Well then, you have
to start acting like a winner. You’ve lived in Liam’s glory for years, taking a backseat on succeeding. So, instead of pretending to be a badass, why don’t you become one?”
He turns in his seat, giving me a full-frontal vision of him I can’t ignore. The sight of him alone makes my lungs constrict. Everything physically about him appeals to me. From his straining muscles to the way his jeans cling to his body.
Jax’s eyes brighten as if our back-and-forth gives him energy. “I like your form of bluntness. Vicious words from seductive lips, my favorite kind of torture.”
“I could say the same thing about you except I’m not a glutton for punishment.”
“For someone who looks all uppity and perfect, you sure have a naughty mouth. I’ve yet to meet someone quite like you.”
My heart beats faster at his look of appreciation. “Someone who can put up with your attitude? Must be a bit jarring, I’m sure.”
“You have no idea.” He surprises me when his thumb runs over the thin bones of my hand, tracing the divots of my knuckles. I take a deep breath, inhaling Jax’s woodsy soap scent, wondering if he even bothers putting cologne on.
Damn, he smells intoxicatingly good.
“What are you doing?” I rasp. Something electric happens wherever his thumb lingers, leaving behind a path of warmth. ¿Qué pasa conmigo?
“Seeing if your skin is as soft as it looks.” His eyes capture mine, the swirl of colors darkening.
“Well, can you not? New rule: no touching.” I pull away from him despite the urge I have to keep my hand on the leather seat.
Ugh. I’m such a cliché, physically attracted to a guy who I should stay far away from.
He chuckles, the rough sound rumbling against his chest. “So many rules. I think a small part of you wants to be let free.”
“And let me guess: you want to be the one to offer that kind of help?”
“Nope. You don’t want someone like me. I’m not what you’re looking for.”
That’s not what I expected to come out of his mouth. “Why’s that?”
“I’d be the kind to break you rather than set you free. Like a caged bird, pretty to look at, clipped wings and all.”
