Page 40 of Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“Your loss is my gain.”

She shrugs, choosing to eat quietly.

I hate sitting in silence. For some masochistic reason I can’t comprehend, I want Elena to pay attention to me. To see me as something more than an irritable arsehole, even if it’s for an hour. “So, tell me something no one knows about you.”

Who the fuck opens up with a question like that?

Me, a motherfucking idiot, that’s who.

She chokes on her drink in the most unladylike display I’ve seen of her. “What?”

“Come on, let’s play a game.”

“Pick a different game. I don’t like this one.” She crosses her arms.

My eyes drop straight to her cleavage because I have the self-control of a teen. Hello, brain, meet the gutter you’re permanently moving into. “No. So, tell me what’s something no one knows about you.”

“You’re a jerk 99% of the time so I don’t want to share secrets with you.”

“But think about the 1% of me you actually enjoy. That’s worth it.”

She blinks at me without responding.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. A secret for a secret. I’ll start to give you a little faith in me. I love One Direction.”

She laughs before stopping, probably because of my scowl. “I’m sorry. I thought you were messing with me.”

“I assure you I’m not, seeing as I was a VIP at their last concert. Their breakup made half of the UK cry.”

“How do you have a Coldplay tattoo yet love One Direction?” She points to the tattoo of Coldplay’s Parachute album cover on my arm.

“The same way you love watching Real Housewives reruns and Downton Abbey. I won’t answer honestly if you’re going to judge me.”

She puts her palms up in submission. “All right. I’ll be better.”

“Fine. You can make it up to me by telling me something no one knows about you.” I grin at her.

“I collect snow globes.”

I scoff. “Bullshit. For sure someone knows about your collection.”

“Well, no one knows why I collect them. They only know that I do.”

I lean in closer, intrigued. “Okay, fine. Tell me why.”

I regret taking a deep inhale because her fruity scent assaults my nose. My lungs constrict and blood rushes to my dick. She smells good. Really, really fucking good.

Which is really, really fucking bad.

“Snow globes are special, especially the ones that play music. Those are my favorites. I love them because I feel like they’re a moment in time, captured and remembered. I have some from different cities, one from university, and a couple of others that are important to me.” Her smile drops as if she remembered something unpleasant.

I don’t like the sad look on her face. “Where’s your collection now?”

“I have a small apartment in Monaco where I used to work before all this F1 traveling with you.”

“Have you collected any during this trip?”

She blinks at me. “Nope. Why?”