One Night to Risk It All Page 5

  “Babe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You okay?” she asked, putting her purse on a chair and coming over to him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest.

  “Yeah. I am now,” he said, holding her. He felt the cold that lingered on her jacket and on the tip of her nose when he bent down to kiss her.

  Holding her centered him. His addiction sponsor had warned him about turning to another person or thing to replace gambling, but in his heart, he knew that holding Helena and relying on her made him stronger.

  And he didn’t regret that.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom to make love to her. That always centered him and made him remember why he was staying strong.

  Five

  “Thank you, Inigo, for coming with me. I really wanted to get a few cute things for the baby while I was here. I’m not sure I’ll be coming back to Manhattan for a while after the birth,” Bianca said as they left Bonpoint and stepped out into the heavy foot traffic on Madison Avenue.

  He held his four-year-old nephew Benito’s hand and all of his sister’s bags as they walked up the street. On a certain level, this shopping trip was his way of apologizing for sleeping with Marielle. He’d never meant to hurt his sister, and he knew that seeing Jose’s former mistress on New Year’s Day had upset her.

  “Not a problem. I love spending time with you and Benito.”

  “Me too, Tío,” Benito said. He was holding a small wooden replica of the first Moretti Motors Formula One car.

  “But you hate shopping,” she said. “Don’t deny it. No man wants to spend hours looking at children’s clothing.”

  “Honestly, it was a nice distraction this morning. I have my first time trial in the new simulator, and I would have just been going over setups and running the track in my head if I hadn’t come with you. And I pretty much did that last night, so we’re good.”

  She laughed. “I’d forgotten what it was like to be in that life. Jose was like that, always thinking about the tracks and the setup. He’d wake up in the middle of the night and jot down notes for his engineers or sometimes even call them,” she said.

  There was a note in her voice that he didn’t recognize, but he did know this was the first time that he’d heard Bianca talk about her deceased husband without a layer of bitterness. “He was very demanding. But that was what made him the best.”

  “Was it?” she asked.

  He glanced down at Benito, who wasn’t paying them the least bit of attention. “What else would it be?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the lifestyle, the women, the attention from the paparazzi—you know how he ate that up.”

  Jose had been the kind of person who commanded attention wherever he went, not unlike a movie star or a famous rock and roll singer. There had been something about him that just drew every eye in the room. Inigo hadn’t been surprised that women were drawn to him; he knew men were too. He’d been charming and funny and had a way of making each person he spoke to feel as if they were the only one who mattered.

  But Inigo had been surprised that Jose hadn’t been loyal to Bianca. How had he read that wrong? There had been a feeling of sincerity in his brother-in-law that Inigo still couldn’t mesh with the reality of what he’d learned after Jose’s death.

  “He did,” Inigo said at last. “Do you want to talk about her?”

  “No. I never want to discuss that. You know she wasn’t the only one,” Bianca said. “Just the last one.”

  He had known that. He’d learned it from his tech-genius brother, Alec, who had dug deep on the internet to find all of the details so that there would be no more surprises for their sister. He got all the dirt that Jose had hidden from them and laid it bare. There would be no more surprises from beyond the grave.

  “He was such a bastard,” Inigo said but then shook his head. Jose hadn’t been, though. For all his faults, he’d come across as a great guy.

  “It would have been easier if he had been,” Bianca said.

  As they continued up Madison nearing the famous Ralph’s Coffee that was part of the flagship Ralph Lauren store, he could see a crowd of people. “I wonder what that is.”

  “Me too,” Bianca said. “I love the energy in the city. It’s so different from Cole’s Hill.”

  “Definitely. At home the only crowds are at the Bull Pen on Friday night.”

  “So true,” she said. “Can you see who it is? I wonder if it’s someone famous.”

  Inigo maneuvered around people trying to get a glimpse of the person and stopped in his tracks as he saw the familiar long silver-shot blond hair and silvery-gray eyes. Marielle.

  “It’s no one famous,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s probably just someone you don’t recognize. Maybe a Kardashian.”

  “It’s not. I know who they are,” Inigo said, trying to steer Bianca away from the crowd. But his sister was stubborn and elbowed him.

  “Stop it, Inigo. You’re being silly. I want to see who it is,” she said, moving closer.

  He wasn’t going to physically keep her from seeing Marielle. After all, she was pregnant and needed to be careful. But his sister had definitely inherited their mother’s mule headedness.

  She made her way forward, and the crowd shifted. He knew the instant his sister saw her. Her back stiffened, and she turned away, walking back toward him. “You did know who it was.”

  “I did. I wasn’t sure...”

  “Don’t worry. I think I’ve had enough of the city. Can you get me a cab?” she said, reaching over and taking Benito’s hand.

  He nodded and lifted his arm to hail a cab. Two women walked by them as he did so.

  “I love her. She’s got the best life and advice. I want to be Mari when I grow up. She’s really got it together.”

  His eyes met his sister’s, and he saw the color drain from her face.

  “Bia—”

  “Don’t. Please don’t say anything. I hate that she’s Insta-famous and that people want to be like her,” Bianca said. The cab pulled up, and he opened the door. He helped Benito into the back seat first and then turned to hug his sister. She seemed smaller now, less in command, and he hated that.

  He felt someone watching him and looked up to see that Marielle had noticed them. She lifted her hand to her lips and blew them a kiss. She had no shame. Not a shred of remorse over what she had done to Bianca.

  * * *

  Marielle was very pleased with the meeting she’d had. She tried not to look smug as she left the building on Fifth Avenue, but it was hard. The day was cold and gray, and after the way her new year had started, she had felt the same. But she was shaking it off. She decided to stop by Ralph’s for coffee.

  She posed in front of the famous Ralph’s sign for a selfie and shared it with her followers with a tease that she had big news coming before going inside. A few of her followers spotted her and came over to pose with her and to chat. She was enjoying the moment a lot; this was something she’d never thought she’d find for herself. She texted Scarlet to thank her for recommending her for the meeting and then her manager to make sure he knew the terms she’d negotiated with the brand.

  She glanced up to see Inigo and his sister staring at her. Jose’s son was with them, but he was engrossed in the toy in his hand. Bianca turned away, and Inigo followed her to hail a cab. Marielle felt some of her happiness ebb away, and as Inigo hugged his sister and looked at her, she realized part of what she felt was guilt—but also defiance. So she lifted her hand and blew them a kiss before turning and walking away.

  Coffee would cure all of her problems, she thought as she joined the line in Ralph’s. A moment later someone entered the shop and got in line behind her.

  “I’d ask if you are following me, but you were here first,” Inigo said from behind her.

&n
bsp; She turned around and looked into chocolaty-brown eyes. He stood there looking better than he had a right to. “Shouldn’t you be in Europe training for the upcoming season?”

  “Nope. Moretti Racing built a new facility on Long Island and we’re using it for the preseason training. They’re trying to get a foothold in the US market and nab up-and-coming drivers before they commit to NASCAR.”

  “Just my luck,” she said.

  “You say that like I did something to you,” he said. “I’m not the one at fault here.”

  She shook her head. “Gentlemanly of you to point that out.”

  She gave the barista her order, paid and then stepped away from Inigo. Why had she even bothered to speak to him? She should have ignored him.

  But how could she?

  She wanted him to accuse her of being a homewrecker so she could defend herself. Tell him how Jose had said he was divorced. How Jose had made it sound like he was the victim. But really, what would that help? She’d been seeing a married man. The fact that she’d thought he was divorced didn’t really matter, did it?

  Carlton had told her to stay away from married men when he’d stepped in to fix the PR nightmare she’d created. And her father had backed up Carlton’s warning with a solid disinheritance threat if she didn’t toe the line.

  Inigo stepped over to her, and she rolled her eyes as he arched one eyebrow at her. “Would you like to join me?”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “So we can say goodbye properly. We never had the chance,” he said.

  She thought about it for a minute. He was right. If they ended this the way they should have on New Year’s Day, then maybe she’d be able to forget him and move on. She was of course already moving on, but the part of her that kept thinking that she didn’t have to would get the hint.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll get our drinks,” he suggested.

  “Sounds good,” she said, scanning the seating area for a free table. When she spotted one, she moved quickly to grab it. She sat down and took an antibacterial wipe from her handbag and cleaned the table.

  Inigo set their drinks on the table before sitting down across from her. He stretched his legs out under the table, brushing against hers. She shifted around, crossing her feet under the chair so he wasn’t touching her.

  She wasn’t doing this again. She couldn’t. She’d hooked up with him once, and that was okay, but now...knowing who he was? Nah, she didn’t need that kind of trouble in her life.

  “So...” she said. She’d never been good at leaving something alone. If she had a scab, she picked at it. Not that she was saying that Inigo was like a scab, but the way he made her feel was similar. Her skin felt too tight when she was around him. Like she had an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Part of it was sexual, but a bigger part was just the mélange of emotions he stirred in her.

  “So, you and Jose, huh?” he asked.

  She put her arms on the table, holding her coffee cup loosely in her hands. Of course they were going to have to talk about Jose. “Yeah. Do you really want to discuss that?”

  He turned away from her and she noticed he had a strong jaw, especially when he clenched it. “No. I don’t. I just don’t get it.”

  “What’s to get? He was funny and charming. He told me his marriage was over,” she said. “I believed him.”

  “He was funny,” Inigo agreed, ignoring the rest. She really didn’t blame him.

  “Yeah. How well did you know him?”

  “He was my mentor. I started racing karts when I was thirteen. The next year he started dating Bianca, and he sort of took me under his wing. I thought...well, it doesn’t matter, but his death was hard on me. Then after he died, I learned about the thing with you. It was like losing him again,” Inigo admitted.

  She could tell he hadn’t meant to tell her that last bit. But it really drove home the fact that the two of them shouldn’t be doing this. She wanted closure and not friendship, yet his pain mirrored her own. She had been betrayed by Jose as well—not that Inigo would see it that way. But the truth was she’d had an expectation that Jose was an honest man.

  “I’m sorry. I miss the fun person I knew. Not the other guy that I learned he was later,” she said.

  She put her hand on Inigo’s where it was clenched on the table. He looked over at her, and she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. That troubled her. Had she said the wrong thing? Hell, when didn’t she?

  “I’m sorry too,” he said. “I wish you hadn’t known him.”

  “I’m not,” she said. Without Jose she would never had gotten the wake-up call she needed to figure out what she wanted for her life instead of following the script of what everyone expected her to do.

  * * *

  Her response surprised him. He thought she’d have said she wished she hadn’t been the other woman, but she seemed pretty okay with it to him. The idea of revenge stirred again in the back of his mind. He thought back on his sister’s pale face, which served as a strong reminder of how much Marielle had hurt her. He wanted to think he wasn’t petty and base, but every time he tried to be the better man, it came back. He didn’t need the distraction, which Dante had been quick to point out, yet at the same time, when would he have a chance for payback like this again?

  “I’m surprised. I’d think being with a married man—”

  “It wasn’t like that. You more than anyone know how it is on the road during the season. I was a cup girl. I was traveling around with the teams, and we met. There are the drivers who don’t have sex at all, and then the others who are always looking to get laid.”

  She was so blunt. Her words were the truth. He’d seen it himself as he walked through the trailers. He was aware of the women with hot passes waiting to see who was looking to get lucky. Some of the drivers even believed if they had sex right before a race it improved their performance behind the wheel. Esteban was one of those men. It definitely hadn’t hurt him behind the wheel.

  “I guess the lives of the families back home don’t matter,” he said glibly. Why had he sat down with her?

  A part of him wanted to believe she was more than she seemed. More than Bia had made her out to be. He couldn’t help remembering their night together in the O’Malleys’ guesthouse. It had been special.

  “It’s a different world. You know it doesn’t feel like real life,” she said.

  “Hmm. That’s interesting. For me it’s where I’m most at home and more myself than anywhere else,” he said.

  “You would say that. You’re a driver. You probably don’t feel alive unless you’re going three hundred miles per hour. You’re not human like the rest of us.”

  “Not human?”

  “You know, you’re like a demigod moving that fast. Not paying attention to anything that gets caught under your tires and blown toward the side of the road.”

  “You don’t know me,” he said. “Some drivers might be that way, but I’m not.”

  She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. He noticed her lipstick left a mark on the side of the cup. She was like that mark on the cup, but on his psyche. Their one night together was bright red.

  Had it been a fluke? He wished he could easily figure that out. If it was, then he could walk away. Should he try it again? What the hell?

  He wondered if it was the lack of sleep or just his nerves at the thought that someone might be working to actively keep him from winning. Or if it was her crystal-gray eyes watching him like a dare. Causing him to stop weighing the consequences and teasing him into taking what he wanted.

  And he did want her.

  But then he thought of that smug look on her face when she’d said that during the racing season regular rules of decency didn’t apply. It wasn’t that he normally gave a crap about how people behaved unless it affected him
, but she’d hurt Bia. That kind of thinking had been responsible for hurting his sister.

  He couldn’t let her get away with it. She might find someone else to hurt by her actions. He wasn’t holding himself up as some sort of moral police—he knew he had flaws—but he couldn’t just walk away after she’d said that. She wasn’t even taking responsibility for her own culpability in the affair. She’d pretty much said that since drivers have big egos, it was Jose’s fault.

  He wasn’t letting Jose off the hook, but he was dead, so there wasn’t much that Inigo could do about that.

  “I don’t know you,” she said. “I did sort of like you, though.”

  “Did?” he asked. If he was going to make this work, he had to let go of showing her he was pissed and at least try to be charming. The only thing was, when he tried to be, he never could pull it off.

  “Well, you haven’t been very nice today,” she said.

  “You gave me the finger,” he said. He could still picture her hand in the air as she walked away from him.

  “You thought it was funny, didn’t you?” she asked.

  He had. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  She tipped her head to the side, and her long blond hair flowed over one shoulder. She pouted at him with those full lips for a second and then said, “You did okay when we were in the bedroom.”

  Immediately he felt a jolt go through him. “We got along pretty good, didn’t we?”

  “Uh-huh. Was it just a one-night hookup? I mean, before you found out about the thing with your sister, did you think we’d see each other again?”

  Wow. That was the million-dollar question. If he said no, he’d come off like a douche, and if he said yes, he’d seem like a sap who had placed an emotional price on their night together.

  “I don’t know,” he answered as honestly as he could. “I liked you, and I wasn’t ready to think about more than spending the day with you.”

  “Fair enough. So, are we going somewhere from here? Or is it so long?” she asked.

  “You’re very blunt,” he said.