Page 1 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

Monte Carlo

E ven the breeze off the ocean felt different in Monaco. Softer, sweeter-scented, expensive.

Violet had been at some of the glamorous parties surrounding the Monaco Grand Prix before, but she’d always been working.

Now she’d be free to enjoy it.

She’d officially handed off her duties at Lennox Motorsport to her replacement, and she wasn’t due to start her new job until the midseason break. Tonight, she was free to have fun, and she fully intended to enjoy every second of it, in every way she could.

She stood at the base of the megayacht’s gangplank, taking in the spectacle, as an exclusive selection of the world’s rich and beautiful people streamed past her.

The yacht was owned by some billionaire whose company was a sponsor of the Formula One team, and the party on board was supposed to be the highlight of the race weekend at Monaco—a weekend that was already jam-packed with glamorous parties and exclusive events.

As she stepped on board, the man greeting guests smiled broadly at her as he scanned her invite code. “Violet Harper. Glad you could make it.”

“Hi, Simon. Thanks for putting me on the guest list.”

He leaned in to kiss her cheek and she caught a delicious whiff of his cologne. “Have fun tonight. I know you know how.” He winked at her and she felt the subtle ripple of mutual attraction.

“For once, I’m not working the post-race party and I am going to enjoy it.” She paused, her eyes roving down Simon’s body. He was fit, and in his tight navy suit, he looked positively edible.

Yes, he’d do nicely. “Maybe you can help me out with that.”

Simon gave her a similar once-over, and bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, well, unfortunately, I am working this party.”

“That’s too bad.”

He shook his head sadly. “Sure as fuck is. Anyway, the hot tub and pool are open. Just ask the attendant for a suit if you want to swim. The helipad’s been converted to a dance floor. Calvin Harris is DJing a set later tonight. And of course, there’s all the alcohol you care to drink.”

“If I’m still looking for company by the end of the night, maybe I’ll come find you.” She tilted her chin.

Simon’s eyes smoldered with interest. “I sincerely hope you do.”

Violet hadn’t taken two steps inside the lounge on the main deck when she stopped short, just a foot away from a very familiar, tall, hot irritation.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

Chase Navarro also stopped in his tracks, his eyes dipping quickly down her body and then just as quickly back up to her face. “Installing the Wi-Fi? Am I in the wrong place?”

With his golden tanned skin, jet-black hair, and eyes to match, he was revoltingly good-looking, but here he was, in the middle of this glamorous party, wearing jeans .

Just ratty, faded Levi’s and a short-sleeve black shirt, like some random American tourist who’d stumbled onto this yacht accidentally.

Unfortunately, he was still hotter than nearly anyone else here.

Since the moment she’d met him, Chase Navarro had annoyed her. Beautiful, but careless, counting on his looks and his charm to carry him through this cutthroat world. But since he was just a low-ranking Formula Two driver, she only crossed paths with him at tracks every once in a while.

“All this and a sense of humor, too. You’re a real renaissance man, Chase.”

The grin he flashed at her made something tickle in her belly. It was truly unfair that the universe had chosen to gift a weapon as powerful as that smile to someone who used it so lazily.

“Violet, you’re always so …” He hesitated, narrowing his eyes at her as he considered her. She’d very purposefully worn next to nothing tonight, wanting to look good and feel good, but Chase’s once-over was making her feel some other kind of way.

“Be very careful about the next word that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

“… clever ,” he said at last.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve got any number of indiscriminate young women to seduce tonight. Don’t let me get in your way.”

When she brushed past him, he hesitated a beat and then turned to follow her through the crowd.

“You here with friends?”

She scowled over her shoulder. “Yes, I’m meeting Mira.” She might be moving to a new job at a new team, but thankfully her best friend back at Lennox, Mira, would still be at every race, so they could still hang out.

Just then her phone vibrated in her hand. When she glanced at the screen, she sighed.

Something came up at Lennox HQ. We’re flying back tonight. Sorry!

“Was. I was meeting Mira.”

Well, this sucked. No Mira meant she was flying solo tonight. She stashed her phone in her tiny silver bag and surveyed the room. Time to make a new plan.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink?” Chase said.

She pivoted to look at him. Was he trying to flirt with her ? The audacity.

At that moment, a waiter carrying a tray full of champagne flutes paused beside them. She gave him a radiant smile and plucked one off the tray. “The drinks are free here, Chase. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make some new friends.”

CHASE WATCHED VIOLET’S back as she skirted through the crowd.

He’d crossed paths with her often enough, on the track and at various racing events, and he’d always found her stunning, but tonight he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Her lips were blood-red, and beneath her dark bangs, her eyes were winged with black.

The brilliant blue of them was startling enough to distract him from her outfit—a triangle of shimmery metal mesh somehow held on to the front of her with little silver chains crisscrossing her back, a skintight silver miniskirt, and silver sandals with sky-high heels.

But it all came attached to Violet Harper, prickly and kind of mean. He’d definitely thought about her in that way, more than once, and she might be the most beautiful girl at this party, but he only needed to get his hand slapped once to learn his lesson.

He turned away, taking a sip of his drink.

This whole party felt like he was swimming way above his pay grade.

The enormous buffet of food downstairs, the crowded dance floor up on the helipad, the glamorous crowd hanging around on the back deck, with Monte Carlo glittering in the background …

parties like this were for the Formula One elite, not a low-ranking F2 driver like him.

He’d wanted to be an F1 driver since he was a kid.

He’d given up everything—absolutely everything—to pursue it.

And at twenty-five, he was trying to come to terms with never getting it.

Over and over he’d told himself that the odds were stacked against him.

There were only twenty seats on the grid, and thousands of drivers desperate to fill them.

The vast majority would never make it. He’d gotten as far as F2.

It was more than most would ever see. He’d tried to make himself satisfied with that.

It was impossible.

The want felt like it was gnawing away at him from the inside out, and with it, the frustrating realization that if it never happened for him, he’d be nursing this unfulfilled desire for the rest of his life, no matter what else he managed to achieve.

He was surprised when he’d landed on the guest list for his team’s F1 counterpart, but he figured he’d better take advantage of it. In this sport you either moved up or moved out, and since he was probably on his way out after this season, this might be his last chance.

Out on the back deck, he ended up being cornered by some wasted finance bro who talked his ear off about crypto for an hour.

By the time he shook himself loose, the crowd had started to thin out.

He made his way back inside, to the main lounge, thinking to grab one more beer before he hit the road.

But the second he was inside, he spotted her—Violet—across the room.

He was uncomfortably aware of how his eyes had followed her all night long—hanging out by the pool, dancing up on the helipad.

She’d had company every time, one guy after another, so why was she still here alone?

He didn’t really think it through—he never did—he just started heading her way, skirting the low ivory leather chairs scattered across the space and the clusters of people standing in conversation.

On the way, he snagged two glasses of Moet from a passing waiter.

As he approached, she swiveled to look at him in surprise.

Long black hair tumbling over those bare shoulders and arms, long pale legs under that barely there miniskirt—skin, skin …

so much touchable skin. God, she was gorgeous.

“Hey.” He offered her a glass. “You look like you need this.”

VIOLET EYED CHASE warily before taking the glass he offered.

How had she ended up back where she’d started the night, still flying solo and talking to him ?

She’d entertained plenty of options tonight, but she’d passed each one by.

This one had a weird laugh, that one had a suspicious tan line on his ring finger—she’d found reason after reason to move on.

But now tonight’s game of musical chairs was nearly over and there seemed to be just this one chair left available.

It was undeniably a hot chair. And it would probably be a lot of fun. Chase Navarro wasn’t someone who did serious, and neither was Violet, so there was no risk of things getting messy. He was watching her over the rim of his champagne flute, humor lighting up those jet-black eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his. “So, are we doing this? Sex?”

She enjoyed the deep satisfaction of rendering him momentarily speechless as he choked on his champagne.

“What?”

“Come on now. We both know why you came over here. You want to fuck me.”

He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck as he looked down at the floor. Good lord, she’d flustered him. Now this was fun. “Ah …”

“If you’re not interested …” she drawled with exaggerated disinterest as she dragged her fingertips along her collarbone. His eyes tracked the movement, flaring with heat.

“Um, yes, we’re doing this.” He cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eye. “We’re absolutely doing this.”

Her nipples hardened at the low timbre of his voice. Something flared within her. Okay, she was excited .

“WHERE’S YOUR HOTEL?” Violet asked.

Oh, she wanted to come back to his place. He hadn’t considered that. This might be awkward. “Ah … I’m staying outside Nice.”

She blinked. “Nice?”

“Yeah, Nice. It’s not far in an Uber and—”

“I know where Nice is. Why are you staying there?”

Violet was used to the elite world of Formula One and the Lennox championship team.

She didn’t get how it was for some of the drivers on the lower rungs.

Every dime his sponsors managed to cough up went straight to the team.

It was the only way he could hope to hang on to his seat.

That meant living on the cheap whenever he could.

“Me and some of the guys from the circuit got an Airbnb—”

Violet’s eyes went wide and she threw up a hand in protest. “ Oh no . My days of hostel sex are over.”

“It’s not a hostel . It’s an apartment. I have my own room.” It was a tiny box. With a twin bed. And thin walls. But it was all his.

“I’m not going to Nice.” The stony look on her face made it clear the subject was closed.

“Okay, then.” Maybe they weren’t doing this. That was tragic, because right now he wanted her with a desperation that was almost scary. “I guess you’re staying here in Monte Carlo?” he asked hopefully.

She looked at him, her gaze assessing. He looked right back, almost pleading with her with his eyes. She caught her lush, red bottom lip with her teeth briefly as she considered.

Then she blew out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered to herself. Then, to him, “Get us an Uber. We’ll go to mine.”

He did his best to suppress his grin as he pulled out his phone, but it was hard as hell.

Monte Carlo was pocket-sized, and in no time, their car had climbed into the hills and turned onto a dark, curving street.

“This is me,” Violet said when the car stopped.

Chase peered up at the tall, white, obviously expensive apartment building through the window. “You’re staying here?”

Damn, she really did swim in different circles than him.

“For the weekend,” she said. He was transfixed, watching as she opened the door and unfolded those long, long legs of hers.

She straightened and turned back to him, a willowy goth goddess, all black hair and red lips, shimmery silver, and so much bare, pale skin.

Hands planted on her hips, she scowled. “Well? Are you coming?”

This time he didn’t even try to suppress his smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”