“I can do both, kiddo. Just be here tomorrow night.”
“I will be,” she said. “Love you, Dare.”
“Love you, too.”
She hung up with her brother, and a moment later he responded in the group text that they were all unavailable. Immediately her sibling chat group lit up with her other brothers wanting to know what was going on. Darian just said he’d explain everything at six at his place. Zac said that he would join by video chat, but it was cutting into his training time.
It had always struck her how odd it was that all of the Bisset siblings spent more time away from their parents than with them. Even though Mari had been crashing at their family home in East Hampton, she’d made sure to arrange it so she wouldn’t have to spend too much time with her folks.
Seven
Marielle still hadn’t texted Inigo back. Instead she was hanging with her bestie, Siobahn Murphy. Siobahn had been the lead singer for Venus Rising since she was fourteen. The band had been comprised of older members and they’d been put together by a producer who...was no longer with the band. Marielle and Siobahn had met at a party at the Royal Bahamas club when they were both eighteen. They’d been young, had too much money and both of them had a simple goal: live life to the fullest. For Marielle she’d just wanted to not be like her parents and her older brothers. It wasn’t much of a goal, but it had worked.
Looking at both of them now, eight years later, it seemed that life had certainly not worked out the way either of them planned. Siobahn was fresh off a breakup; her ex, a singer-songwriter, had immediately eloped to Vegas with one of her dancers. It had almost broken Siobahn, who had truly loved Mate.
Sitting in Marielle’s apartment eating vegan pizza on a Friday night wasn’t what they had envisioned for themselves at twenty-six. They should be owning it. But sometimes Marielle thought this was owning it.
Her mom hadn’t tried to speak to her again after Darian had sent his last message to the group chat and Marielle was relieved but also a little sad. Would it kill her mom to act maternal to her for once?
“Ugh. I don’t really like this cauliflower pizza crust,” Siobahn said. “Just got an invite to the Polar club. Want to check it out?”
“Yes. I was just thinking we should be out on a Friday night... I need to meet someone and hook up so I can wash away my last one,” Marielle said. She wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone other than Siobahn, but her friend understood.
“Me too. Mate is posting pictures of him and the wife on his yacht. Last year that was me. And I hate that I still care, but...”
“Let’s go. We’re going to find some hot guys, hook up, and then we’ll both be in a better state of mind,” Marielle said.
“Let’s do it,” Siobahn said, following her into her bedroom, which had a huge walk-in closet that Marielle had spent a year designing and having built.
She’d sort of retreated to her apartment and spent a lot of time redoing it. That was how she started her social media channel, just working on the apartment and working through her issues at the same time.
They raided her closet and both came away with outfits that suited them. Then she called down to her driver, Stevens. Technically he was Darian’s driver, but Dare hardly ever used him. Her brother liked to walk so he could eavesdrop on conversations and hear what was really on people’s minds. He used that information when plotting strategy for his clients. He really was too good for this world, she thought, not for the first time.
He could be tough when he had to, but he always put everyone else first. Especially her. She needed to figure out how to deal with her mom without involving him.
Someday.
“Girl, we are going to own it tonight,” Siobahn said as she snapped a selfie of the two of them.
Twenty minutes later, seated in the VIP section of Polar, Marielle wasn’t too sure her plan for the evening was the best one. Sure, there were a lot of guys who seemed to be willing to hook up with her, but she just felt...they weren’t doing it for her. She couldn’t help comparing each man to Inigo. She wasn’t trying to, but she’d notice that one’s jaw wasn’t as strong as his was. That another one’s eyes weren’t as warm and chocolaty. That yet another suitor didn’t smile at her smart-ass comments the way Inigo did.
He wasn’t the man for her. She knew this. So why was every guy not as good as him?
That ticked her off. She was headed to the bar to get a couple of shots of tequila, which always made even the most mediocre of evenings better, when she heard a familiar Texan drawl. She stopped and glanced around, and there he was. The very man she’d come here to forget—and failed.
Was it karma?
She’d decided to move on and couldn’t because...they weren’t done with each other, she thought. He glanced over in her direction, and their gazes met. His face tightened for a moment, and then he shook his head.
He lifted his hand and crooked his finger at her, and she stood there and started laughing. It didn’t matter that they weren’t perfect for each other. That the world was never going to be a place where they could be a couple because of her past actions. He got her.
She walked toward him, and he moved away from the high table where he’d been toward her.
“How is it that the one woman I’m trying to forget I keep bumping into?” he asked.
“Karma. I’ve just decided it’s karma. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad or what,” she admitted.
“Karma, eh? Sure, I’ll go with that,” he said. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to sleep with you again, but you look so damn hot in that...is that even a dress?”
“Of course it is,” she said. They were both trying so hard to avoid fate, she thought, but there was no way they were going to be successful.
“Dance with me, Inigo. Let me put my hands all over you and we can pretend that it will be enough until midnight, when we both have to leave and go home to our real lives.”
“Is that what you said to Jose?” he asked.
And it was like a knife right in her heart. “No, it’s not.”
Surprised at how deeply that had hurt, she turned and walked away from him. She was used to jabs from the media, from her mom, but Inigo had surprised her. He definitely didn’t get her if he could say something like that to her.
* * *
Inigo almost let her go, but he wasn’t an asshole—as much as that comment had made him sound and feel like one. The thing with Jose was harder to shake than he wanted to admit. And he was in the club trying to forget Marielle, but then there she was.
He had to force his way through the crowd to her. She was seated in the VIP area, but luckily the club’s owner was an F1 fan and the bouncer knew him. The man lifted the rope and let Inigo through, but as he got closer and saw her face, he knew he should just apologize and leave.
His thoughts of revenge were a distant memory at this point because he’d never witnessed the aftermath of his senseless tongue before, and he definitely didn’t like what he saw.
Her friend noticed him before Marielle did and came at him with attitude and probably more than a bit of violence on her mind.
“I’m a total d-bag. I know it,” he said as she approached. He recognized her as the singer Siobahn Murphy, not just because everyone knew who she was but also because she’d been in Cole’s Hill for a month with Scarlet a few months ago. His sister liked her.
“You really are. Wait, aren’t you Bianca’s little brother?”
“I am.”
“I guess it’s safe to say that every family has assholes,” she said.
He started to argue, but she interrupted him.
“Don’t. I know you’re mad, and you might feel slightly bad about what you did to her, but she deserves better. No one is perfect—you might want to remember that.”
“I know that better than most. Listen, I shouldn’t
have said it, and I need to apologize, but not to you. So, either sit down or go and do your thing.”
Siobahn raised her eyebrows at him. “You’ve got five minutes and then I’m intervening, and trust me you aren’t going to like that.”
Siobahn walked past him, and Inigo realized that while he and Siobahn had been talking Marielle had composed herself. She looked bored and beautiful, but he felt like maybe he could still see the hurt in her eyes. That she wasn’t really ready to talk to him.
But this wasn’t something that he could let go.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he approached her booth and slid onto the bench across from her. “I have no excuse except that I guess it bothers me that I want you so much when I know that I can’t have you.”
She didn’t say a word, just shook her head. And he guessed he didn’t deserve anything more than that.
“The truth is—”
“I don’t care,” she interrupted. “I thought you were someone...that doesn’t matter now. Fine, I heard your apology and I accept it. You can leave now.”
Leave now.
He should do just that. He’d seen what happened when he hurt her, but she had been quick to move on. Would he even be able to make her feel bad if he dated her and broke up with her in a public way? Also, could he stop himself from falling for her? It was harder than he had imagined. There was something about her...
He’d told himself there was no way he could be with her and that wasn’t just talk to keep himself from getting involved during the racing season. He legitimately couldn’t be with her.
But he’d hurt her, and he hated himself for that. He’d meant to remind himself that she couldn’t be his, and probably he’d sealed his fate. Ensured she’d never look at him with that heady cocktail of lust and affection again.
“I could. But I... I can’t. I just don’t want to leave it like this. Every time I try to fix this, I seem to be making it worse. And believe me when I say that’s not how I normally operate.”
She almost smiled. He saw her lips twitch. Aware that the clock was running before her friend came back and kicked him out of Marielle’s life, he knew the next few seconds were very important. But his whole life was measured in seconds. In making snap decisions and trusting his instincts. He felt time warp around him the way it did when he was driving. He knew that whatever he did next would decide if he spent more time with this woman or lived with regret the rest of his life.
His pulse was racing, but he felt calm. He was in his element, and unlike earlier, when he’d been riding hormones, he was ready for this.
“I want to believe you, but you keep letting me down,” she said.
“I feel like I know the answer to this. But will you give me one more chance to prove I’m not that guy?” he asked.
She chewed on her lower lip, and it was the first thing he’d seen her do that revealed her nerves. Even the night they’d met, she’d been cool and composed. It was the first time he saw that she was real. That underneath the sassy comebacks and quick smiles there was a hell of a lot more going on. He had to fix this and leave, he thought.
“Until midnight,” he said.
That was his last offer. He liked her on a level that made no rational sense to him. She was a distraction, the last woman he should be chatting up, but at the same time, he couldn’t just walk away.
“Dance with me,” he said. “One dance, and if you still don’t want to give me another second, I’m out.”
“Dance with you? Isn’t that what I suggested?”
“It is, which is why I’m hoping you have an interest in either forgiveness or humiliating me on the dance floor.”
She shook her head. “I’m not like that.”
“Give me a chance to get to know you. I’ll stop saying dumb things...well, maybe that’s too big of an ask, but I’ll try to stop.”
She laughed, and he felt it all the way to his core. His racing vision left, and he was once again just a man sitting across from a gorgeous woman, knowing that if she said yes, he was one lucky bastard and he should work hard to not screw up anything else this evening.
“Yes.”
* * *
Marielle felt like she’d had too much to drink. She knew she shouldn’t be dancing with him, not now. Not after what he’d said. He’d shown her who he really was, and she had to remember that. But it was too bad that her hormones hadn’t gotten the message. She was still attracted to him. He had a sweet smile that was sensual at the same time. It was his mouth. That damned perfectly formed mouth of his that had made her say yes.
Now she was swaying to the music under the strobe lights of the club, pressed close to him because of the crowd on the dance floor. The energy was electric, and she felt it pulsing through every inch of her. Inigo must too, she thought. He had his hand on her hip, and he undulated against her. He knew how to move.
She was trying to remember that he said stupid things, but honestly at this moment all she could think about was getting him alone and getting him naked again.
A part of her acknowledged that she wanted to walk away with the upper hand this time, not be the one left shattered by the morning after, but another part didn’t give a damn about any of that. She was hot and horny, and she wanted this man. Inigo was the only one who could satisfy her tonight, and after a long week where she definitely had more lows than highs, she was going to take what she wanted.
The music changed to an old Pitbull club song, and Inigo jumped in the air pumping his fist. He leaned over, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her into the curve of his body. “I love this song.”
She could tell. The beat was sensual and hot, Cuban beats with the Miami heat, and Inigo moved to the music like it was flowing through him. His hands were soft on her hips, urging her to find the same movements as he had. She stopped thinking, stopped analyzing and let the music consume her the way that it had Inigo. She sank deeper into the curve of his body. She felt his hips against hers and his hands sliding up and down her sides. She felt the ridge of his erection grow against her and twisted her hips to rub against him. She let her head fall backward so that her hair brushed against his shoulder, and she felt the warm exhalation of his breath against her neck a moment before his lips touched her skin.
She shivered with sensual delight, and it was all she could do not to grab his wrist and lead him to the VIP bathroom.
But she wasn’t that woman. Not tonight.
Or was she?
What was wrong with having fun and enjoying a moment like this one? She knew how rarely they came along.
She turned in his arms. His eyes were heavy lidded as he danced and watched her body. She put her hands around his shoulders and moved against him. Their eyes met, and she leaned up to kiss him. His mouth against hers was firm yet also soft at the same time. Better than she remembered.
How was that even possible?
His tongue rubbed against hers as he held her to him with a hand at her hip. They moved together to the music, and she knew she was never going to be able to just walk away from this man.
There was something about him that... Stop. She made her mind cancel that thought. This was a hookup—they could both walk away guilt-free and then get back to their real lives.
He lifted his head, breaking the kiss, then put his hands on either side of her face and leaned down, kissing her harder and deeper, sending a pulse of need and desire through her. Her breasts felt heavier, needy, and her center was moist and aching for him. She shifted to rub against his erection, and he broke the kiss again, this time putting his hands on her hips as he maneuvered them both through the crowded dance floor. As soon as they were out of the throng of people, he led her to a quiet hallway and stood in front her, sheltering her body with his as he put one hand on the wall next to her head.
“I want to take you back to my place. No thinking about who we are
or anything like that. Just us. One night only.”
She almost smiled at the way he was trying to be a good guy. His erection was hard and rigid pressed against her hip. His voice was raspy and raw with need. And he couldn’t stop touching her. His finger rubbed up and down the column of her neck. She stood there caught in the sensual web that they were both weaving around each other and knew there was nothing she could do but say yes.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Central Park West,” he said.
“I’m closer. Let’s go to my place,” she said.
“Perfect. I have a driver,” he said, moving his hand from the wall and reaching into his pocket, which drew her attention to his groin. She caressed him through the front of his pants as he hit a button on his phone and sent the message.
He groaned as she rubbed the tip of his erection, then took her hand in his. “I want to do this when we are alone and I can get you naked.”
“Me too,” she said. “I need my bag and then I can go.”
He led her back to the VIP area and stood by the velvet ropes as she went and grabbed her bag. Siobahn was gone, but there was a note from her friend on her phone that she’d come back if Marielle needed her to.
She texted she was good and didn’t mention Inigo. He was her dirty little secret tonight—just as she suspected she was his.
Eight
It took them longer than Inigo anticipated to leave the club, because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. There was a sort of haze over him right this moment. All he could see was Marielle. Her lips were wet and swollen from his kisses. Damn.
He leaned in to kiss her again. The bouncer held the door for them, and they were caught between the warmth of the club and the snow and sleet falling outside. Inigo pulled her into his body to protect her from the elements. She put her hand on the side of his neck, tipping her head slightly, and he knew she wanted to say something, but her lips were too tempting to resist and he kissed her again.
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