Page 42 of Faster

“So, you’re in love with him?” Paola asked.

She’d settled back onto her lounge chair and opened a book, dropping that word as though it wasn’t a bomb.

Really dangerous behavior when they were on a boat.

“If you’re in love with him, and you’re sure he loves you back, then it might make sense for you to ruin your reputation. ”

Micaela didn’t see why her reputation had to be ruined based on who she fell in love with.

She got that the only way for women to gain any foothold in this business had been to sleep with someone important who could give them a boost, but that was mostly in the past. It was totally different from two consenting adults deciding their complicated, intertwined situations didn’t matter as much as being together.

“Love is not a magical cure-all for how the world will see me,” Micaela said. “But Liam is important to me. It’s not just sex.”

It hurt to admit that, but it was true. The way she wanted to defend him when Paola had insinuated he was a perv for getting involved with her was proof of that. She needed to figure out what she wanted, and she didn’t need to deny the truth.

“Brent’s going to freak out when he finds out that you’re going to be his new mother-in-law.”

Spoken like a woman who knew how Brent’s mind operated.

When Brent and Micaela had dated, Liam had never been jealous when they spoke with each other at dinner and when they didn’t pay any attention to him.

Now—as they sat at his table on the deck of his yacht, eating food his staff prepared—he wanted to toss Micaela over his shoulder and take her below so she would only look at him and pay attention to him .

This woman had turned him from a doting father and avuncular figure into a raving caveman in a matter of months.

He could barely stand to be without her while she’d been reading on the deck this afternoon, even though he’d had work to do.

The factory was closed down over part of summer break to make sure no one team would gain an advantage by working on their car round the clock in the month between races.

But he’d had a few calls with team sponsors this afternoon.

Micaela’s success in the car was garnering them interest from businesses that Liam never would have dreamed of approaching before she’d joined the team—cosmetics companies and luxury fashion brands that hardly targeted men at all—this was one of the big reasons that he’d stolen her from Lupo in the first place.

And it did a small amount to assuage his guilt over the fact that they were involved.

He and Brent had always spent at least part of summer break together.

It was the only time they had that wasn’t about business and cars, and Liam had always treasured it.

But this year, he’d actually been pissed off when Brent had assumed they were going on this weekend yacht excursion together.

Liam’s greedy, cloying desire to be alone with Micaela had been overwhelming.

He’d been tempted to lie and say he was going elsewhere or he had business meetings in Kuala Lumpur to avoid spending his vacation with his son cockblocking him.

He should be happy that Micaela and Brent were actually smiling at each other, and that Micaela wasn’t looking at him like she wanted to rip off his clothes at dinner. If he were a better man, he would be grateful that his girlfriend had more self-control and discretion than him.

Instead, he wanted to stand up and dump a cold drink in his son’s lap so there would be no chance he was turned on by his ex-girlfriend.

It didn’t even make sense—something romantic was clearly happening between Brent and Paola.

She was good for his son, as she seemed to have chiseled away quite a bit at the boulder-size chip on Brent’s shoulder.

Because he was a grown man who didn’t immediately act on his impulses, he kept his foul mood to himself. Or at least he thought he did before all three of his dinner companions looked at him expectantly as he tried to murder the asparagus with a fork.

“What?” He hadn’t been paying attention to a word they’d been saying when he should have been postulating about racing lines or something like that.

Micaela smiled at him knowingly and then put her hand on his knee under the table.

They were close enough that Brent or Paola wouldn’t notice, but it was still risky.

Until Paola had caught them making out—Jesus, he was back to making out like a teenager—they’d been so careful not to get caught.

But he was in too deep to care whether people knew they were together, which probably meant it was time to break things off.

Micaela’s longevity in the sport depended on her staying scandal free much more than it did for any other driver on the grid—by virtue of her gender.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality.

They were docking tomorrow, so he’d do it tonight.

He’d make some excuse for why she had to leave the ship to Brent and Paola, and they would still have a few weeks of summer break to figure out how they were going to conduct themselves professionally once the season resumed.

“We were asking what you thought of the new track layout at Zandvoort,” his son asked with a furrowed brow that Liam looked at in the mirror every day. They were so much alike that it scared him sometimes. Down to the cowlick that moved every time the breeze caught it.

He glanced at Micaela then and wondered whether she noticed the same things. He’d stopped thinking she was only attracted to him out of a sense of revenge a long time ago, but he still had bouts of angst that she seemed willing to squander her youth on someone as washed up as him.

He had a fiber supplementation routine when most men her age were just starting to experiment with hard drugs.

He’d never dated anyone so much younger because he frankly didn’t approve of it. He failed to understand the logic behind a lot of older men dating women so much younger than them.

“I think it will be safer, and it will give the younger drivers an advantage.”

Brent grunted and put a large bite of fish into his mouth. Paola looked everywhere but at the three of them at the head of the table. Liam toyed with just telling his son about him and Micaela. But he wouldn’t do that because he hadn’t talked about it with her first.

She brought out every emotion in him that he’d trained himself out of acting on—the pettiness, the fear, the anger, the unfettered desires that he tamped down for decades because of his responsibilities.

And all of the resentment he’d stored up for all of this time was currently directed at his son.

“You’re still a younger driver, Brent.” Micaela smiled at him, but it was the smile of a competitor, not a friend. “Just not the younger driver on the team.”

Brent sat back and said, “I’m full. Do I still have to ask to be excused?”

“What are you talking about?” Liam’s simmering anger was going to boil over. Why hadn’t he raised a son with the maturity to ignore being needled by one woman? “You’ve never had to ask to be excused from the table. That’s not what we’re like.”

Brent nodded and stood up. “Good night.” When Paola didn’t get up to leave, he looked at her expectantly.

“I’m not finished with my dinner.” Paola took another bite. “I’m going to let you go off and pout alone.”

Brent stalked off the deck and stomped down the steps to the staterooms below.

“Do you know what’s going on with him?” No matter what, he cared about what his son was feeling. He may not be acting like it right now, but it would always be close to the front of his mind. It bothered him that Paola knew more about his feelings than he did at the moment.

Paola shrugged and looked at Micaela before responding. “It’s not hard to figure out that you favor Micaela. And, because your son knows you so well—which is a testament to your parenting if you really think about it—it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that you’re—”

“Just say it, Paola.” Micaela put her head in her hands, and Liam froze.

“Sleeping together.”

The only thing worse than the world knowing about him and Micaela was his son knowing about him and Micaela. He’d thought about telling Brent, but he couldn’t pull the trigger when faced with the reality of it.

Paola looked at him as though he might throw her overboard. He would never. “I’m not mad at you for saying it. I’m just glad you haven’t told him.”

Micaela pulled her face out of her hands and looked at him. She appeared to be both exasperated and composed. “Or maybe he’s just being a dick for no reason. He’s been known to do that.”

Something in Liam told him that was not the case, that he and Micaela had come to the end of the time when they could just be wrapped up in each other. The time they could feel the recklessness of what they were doing without any consequences.

He didn’t think Brent knew about his romantic relationship with Micaela.

If he did, there would be theatrics and fireworks, not surliness.

No, Brent’s jealousy was in the realm of the professional.

Too bad the professional was so intertwined with the personal at this point that they couldn’t be separated.

“Paola, I need a few minutes with Micaela.” Still not done with her fish, she pushed away from the table and followed Brent below deck.

A member of the crew came out to grab their plates as he and Micaela stared at each other in silence. It seemed to take forever for them to pick up the dishes, and Liam could feel his nervous system winding tighter with each passing moment.

Micaela’s shoulders crept toward her ears, and he knew the tell. She was about to either burst with anger or disappear into herself. He didn’t want either to happen, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.