Page 21 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

Villa Reale, Monza, Italy

O ne of the biggest sponsors of the sport, Weatherfront Cloud Computing, was throwing a blowout party after Monza at the Villa Reale, an eighteenth-century Italian villa.

Chase squeezed between clusters of party guests, holding his beer over his head to keep from spilling it.

It felt like everybody who was anybody in the sport was currently stuffed into this ballroom.

“Rabia!” He finally found her in the corner with Leon and Violet and immediately caught her up in a bear hug. “You are my fucking hero !”

“Put me down, you idiot,” she groused good-naturedly. “All I did was write a computer program. Well, I oversaw the writing of the program.”

“Yeah, well, that program got me up to thirteenth place today. Thirteenth! We’re practically fucking midfield.”

Rabia had started making changes the second Oscar Davies had loaded his stuff into his car and driven away from the Pinnacle factory.

And while there wasn’t much she could do with the car itself—a car designed by Oscar—she was hard at work exploring every possible way they might maximize its performance.

The first thing she’d done was install software that could test every possible combination of suspension settings on the car, running thousands of simulated laps to find the best ones.

Then she put the reserve drivers to work, trying out the promising ones in the simulator so she could pick the best starting point for Friday.

It was something most of the other teams had been doing for a while, but Oscar had never wanted to devote the time and money to upgrading the system.

This weekend was the first time the car had started out much closer to its optimal setup, and the results were undeniable.

It was still not—and would never be—a winning car, but now it felt like it could be a competitive car.

Chase signaled to a passing waiter carrying a tray of full champagne flutes. The first he passed to Rabia. “If this is what you can do with just a couple of weeks, I can’t wait to see what you do next season.”

He passed a glass to Leon and, last, to Violet.

She avoided meeting his gaze as she took the glass, the same way she’d been avoiding him since Paris.

He suspected spending the night with him had freaked her out.

He hadn’t even been all that surprised to wake up that morning and find her gone. Pretty on-brand for her.

He’d figured that if he pursued her, she’d shut down even more, so he’d given her some space.

She’d been texting and emailing about PR stuff and getting this weird Madison Mitchell thing going, but that was the extent of their connection since then.

But she’d had a week to shake off her Paris weirdness, and he wasn’t going to let her keep avoiding him.

“To Rabia,” he said, raising his glass.

“To Rabia!” Leon said.

Violet was on edge, but she still toasted Rabia, giving a tight-lipped smile. When Chase touched his glass to hers, he tried to catch her eye, but she studiously glanced away, the Violet-is-uncomfortable move he knew so well.

“Everything okay?” Leon asked, glancing between him and her.

“I’m fine,” Violet said, clipped and tight.

“Me, too,” Chase replied. “I’m also totally fine. Been fine since I got back from Paris.”

She finally looked at him, scowling with displeasure. “Chase.”

“What?”

“Am I missing something?” Rabia asked.

“Nope. Absolutely nothing,” Violet said, shooting him one last glare.

It was a start.

“Okay. So … speaking of next season,” Rabia said, exchanging one of those speaking glances with Leon, “we’re thinking of scrapping Oscar’s design for next year and starting fresh. But if we do, it’ll leave us really short of time.”

“You absolutely should,” Chase said. Please . Anything to shake Pinnacle out of its rut. And a car designed by Rabia had to be an improvement over Oscar’s brick.

Rabia shook her head. “Leon’s keen to have a go, but there are so many risks with an all-new design.”

Leon held up a finger. “That gamble would be worth taking if we could get a new power unit.”

Violet finally spoke up. “Okay, then get yourself a new power unit.”

“But Oscar already committed us to Veben’s power unit—”

“Oscar’s gone,” Leon said, “and that contract’s not signed yet.”

“So why not?” Chase interjected. “You know what you want. What you need .”

“I have the contacts, of course,” Rabia said. “But then we’d need to get Reece to sign off on it.”

Violet scoffed. “I’ll talk to Imogen. She’ll make it happen.”

“You think so?”

“He does whatever Imogen tells him to do.”

Rabia looked to Leon in question.

“It’s impossible for us to get worse,” Leon said to her. “What do we have to lose?”

“When you have nothing to lose, things get really interesting,” Violet said with a wild grin. It had been a week since Chase had seen her smile … really smile … and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until just now. Missed her .

“This is crazy,” Rabia muttered. “But if we’re going to discuss it, we’d better do it somewhere more private. I’m pretty sure our rep from Veben is at this party.”

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Leon said. “Violet … you coming?”

“I, ah …” Violet looked around uncertainly. “I should—”

Rabia and Leon exchanged a glance. “We’ll meet you there,” she said, and Chase noticed Leon wink at Violet.

Once they were gone, he turned to her.

“Violet.” At the sound of her name, she looked at him, really looked at him. “Quit avoiding me.”

“I WASN’T!” VIOLET protested, which was a big fat lie, because she’d absolutely been avoiding him. What worried her was that he’d noticed. He wasn’t supposed to notice. Or care.

“I haven’t seen you in a week.” His eyes caught hers significantly. “Not since Paris.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said, which was uninspired. What was wrong with her? Where were all her snappy comebacks? Gone. Lost in the tingling feeling that coursed through her the minute he showed up and swept Rabia into that hug.

After Paris she’d told herself she’d quit this thing with him. She’d thought avoiding him all week might finally break the spell, but no luck. It was actually worse after being away from him all week.

“Busy flirting with Madison Mitchell on your behalf, by the way,” she sniped. So far Chase and Madison had only “connected” on Instagram, liking and commenting on each other’s posts. All of Chase’s input had been her doing. “You’re welcome to participate in that whenever you’re ready.”

He scoffed. “ You wanted this. I’ll show up to the date when you tell me to.”

He took a step closer and leaned in. She could smell him, that expensive aftershave she’d given him when he’d gotten his makeover. She could feel him, the press of his fingertips on the sensitive skin inside her wrist, the warmth of his breath on the side of her neck.

And that was it. She was done trying to resist him. When he looked at her like that, she knew very well she wasn’t going to stay away from him.

The two of them looked at each other, wordlessly. And then Chase smiled, and what was weirder, Violet smiled back.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said.

He reached out for her hand and she let him take it, just because she was so hungry to be touched by him. It was ridiculous, the effect he had on her.

As she followed in his wake through the throngs of guests, she thought it must be some sort of Pavlovian response. Every time she was alone with him, they had unbelievable sex, so now her body was primed to expect it whenever he got near. It wasn’t personal. It was hormones.

They’d cleared the ballroom and were halfway across the atrium, where overflow guests stood chatting in groups, when he stopped abruptly in front of her.

“Chase, what’s going on—”

“Hey, Chase.” It was Liam O’Neill on his way in, his arm around a tall, willowy redhead who looked vaguely familiar.

Chase dropped her hand.

“Liam,” Chase said, with that flat tone of voice she only heard him use when he spoke to Liam. Then his eyes slid over to the redhead. “Sophie.”

Sophie. Hadn’t he asked Liam about a Sophie back when they’d run into him in Spielberg?

“Hi, Chase,” Sophie said, and something in the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes made the hair on the back of Violet’s neck prickle. She knew him, and not just in passing. “How are you?” Sophie asked, in a bright, friendly tone completely at odds with the tension radiating off Liam and Chase.

“Fine,” Chase replied. Mr. Nonstop Charm was suddenly reduced to one-word answers, with all the warmth of an iceberg.

Sophie’s eyes cut to Violet, looking at her curiously. Chase noticed, and tipped his head in her direction. “Violet Harper, head of PR at Pinnacle. Sophie Kincaid. And you know Liam.”

She shook hands with Sophie, determined to be polite, despite Chase and Liam snarling at each other like angry dogs. “Hi, Liam. Sophie, nice to meet you.”

“I’m giving Violet a lift back to the hotel,” Chase muttered. “We should go.”

Seriously? She didn’t necessarily want to broadcast the fact that they were sleeping with each other, but he didn’t need to act like he barely knew her either.

“Have a nice night,” Liam said as they passed. There was something nasty in his tone. Teasing? No, more like mocking.

Chase scoffed and shook his head.

She didn’t know the backstory here, but she’d already figured out Liam was a fucking wanker.

When they were nearly to the bank of open doors leading to the terrace outside, Sophie called out again. “Chase!”

He stopped to look back at her, and something in his expression sent a shimmer of unease through Violet. He said nothing, he just stared at Sophie, his expression flat. It was weird, seeing Chase so closed off and unemotional. Usually she could read everything on his face.

“It really was nice seeing you. Good luck this season,” Sophie said, her eyes a little beseeching.

“Jesus, Soph,” Liam hissed. Then he took her hand and led her away.

Chase watched them go for a beat.

“So what was—”

She didn’t get to finish that thought because he turned and left. Violet hurried after him, out onto the terrace and down the wide limestone steps to the drive. A group of black sedans waited there to ferry guests to the hotel, even though it was just outside the park and across the road.

Chase jerked open the back door of one, holding it for her as she slid inside.

He was silent for the short ride back to the hotel, and silent as they crossed the wood-paneled lobby hung with oil paintings and scattered with antiques.

When they got in the elevator, she looked at him in question.

“Third floor,” he mumbled. She stabbed the button.

So he wasn’t feeling chatty. That was usually exactly what she was after.

Violet wasn’t an idiot. It didn’t take much to realize that Sophie was Chase’s version of Ian.

So why did she feel like she needed him to say something, explain something?

He tapped his key card to open the door and ushered her inside.

There was a lamp on by the bed, casting the room in soft golden light.

The bed looked like a palace, with an ornate carved, gilded headboard and swags of red brocade fabric to either side.

It was covered in a luxurious red velvet duvet and a heap of tufted gold throw pillows.

She turned to Chase, smiling in anticipation, and his hands slowly went up to her hips. God, she’d missed this. It felt like forever since she’d been with him in Paris. Why had she been avoiding him when she knew he could make her feel like this?

She ran her hands up over his rock-hard chest to grasp the back of his neck. But just as she was about to tug his head down and kiss him, he turned his head a bit to the side, eyes closed.

What the fuck? He was usually the one kissing her. She rarely initiated. And now when she actually wanted to kiss him, he wasn’t even looking at her. His warm body was still pressed up against hers, and his hands were still sliding down her body, but Chase himself felt a million miles away.

“Hey …”

His hands tightened on her hips, but his eyes were still closed. There was still this sense of wrongness she couldn’t quite identify.

“Chase.”

She pushed away from him and took a step back. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at her, surprised.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I wanted to have sex with you. But I’m getting the feeling you don’t really want to have sex with me right now.”

He let out a humorless huff, eyes on the floor. “Don’t be ridiculous, Violet. Of course I want to. I always want to.”

“But you’re not … here. With me, right now. You’re a million miles away. With someone else.”

And while she had very few scruples about who she had sex with and why, if she was going to have sex with someone, she wanted to be the only person in their head for the event.

“What? Who?”

“You tell me. But I’m guessing it’s Sophie.” She took a deep breath and did the thing she never did. She asked. “So, tell me, what happened there?”