MAX

Normally around women I'm a simple man, and I make my needs and wants well-known.

No strings, just fun, sex only. A few laughs, some drinks, a night in a hotel room, and we both move on.

But Lily...she's different. Always has been since the minute I ran into her in the days before my first race all those years ago. I can't help but think about that day when I stare into her beautiful face right now.

She was at a club with a group of grid girls. They were all impossibly tall and gorgeous, like human versions of gazelles. And then there was Lily. Short. Disheveled, with her long, dark hair flying everywhere. Wearing glasses. And the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

I hadn't believed in love at first sight until that moment.

Her beauty is still disarming, even now that I'm older and way more experienced. I know this because of the way I'm blathering on about my car and what happened on the track today.

I simply don't know what else to talk about. Hell, there's a lot I want to say, but something's stopping me. Pride, probably. And I'm shocked at her story about her firing. I'd heard she'd left a company, but since I don't go on social media — I employ people for that — I hadn't seen the controversy.

The fact that any man would disrespect her like that makes me want to punch someone. But she doesn't want to hear that, I'm sure. Just like she wouldn't want to listen to me grovel and apologize for what happened between us. She's moved on. And now with her father's health crisis her temporary takeover of the team, she doesn't want me complicating her life even more.

So I'm going to be a good boy and muster the one quality I'm not known for: patience.

I'm going to be Lily's friend, her team confidante. I'm not going to seduce her, not going to flirt, and I'm definitely not going to apologize or bring up our past. There's just no point in dredging up those feelings.

"So you were driving and lost acceleration all of a sudden? No other warnings?" She looks up from her notebook and tilts her head. Good god, she's heartbreakingly beautiful. I've always thought she looked like the women in those Greek frescoes, with flowing curly, dark hair and a dreamy expression in those hazel eyes. Age has made her look more delicate and vulnerable somehow, or maybe that's what life has done to her.

The glasses are different, more angular and modern than she used to wear, and they give her a sexy, serious look. I'd love to see her naked, wearing only those black-rimmed glasses.

I shrug. "None. I was coming down the straightaway, bringing it in for a win, and it was like the entire engine shut off. I slammed my foot on the gas, and nothing."

She purses her plump, glossy lips and a dissatisfied sigh leaks out of her. "I'm sure you've talked with Jack and the other engineers, right?"

"Not yet. Everyone was too upset about your father."

She nods, all business. Clearly she's not remotely interested in me, not the way she once was. That's evident by the way she's taking notes, talking in a clipped tone — and by the way she rebuffed my lame attempt at flirtation when I told her she looked beautiful.

"We've got a week until Austin. My plan is to visit my father as soon as I possibly can tomorrow, arrange his care in New York, and hopefully be in Texas by Tuesday. I'll get an email chain going with everyone, because we need to figure out if this engine issue was a one-off, or could affect both cars going forward."

"Esteban's car performed well. He told me that it seemed to even get stronger as the race went on."

She nods slowly, probably knowing that fact cuts to my core. "We'll get it sorted out. Tell me, how's Esteban as a teammate? I don't know him well."

"He's young, he's talented, he's a good kid. You know this new crop of drivers. They're..."

"I don't, actually. They're what?" She blinks, waiting for me to respond.

"They're all, I don't know. Good. They don't party, they're serious, kind of mercenary."

For the first time tonight, Lily laughs. Hard. Oh, Christ, I missed that laugh, and it makes me grin. "What?"

"That's what everyone said about you when you first started."

I let out a snort. "Hell no."

"Yeah, they did, when you were with your first team. Remember? They called you all business, no fun."

"I quickly disabused the press of that." I smirk, and her face falls.

"Yeah, you did."

"What?" I lean in, curious to know why she's suddenly somber.

"What? I know your reputation in the tabloids. It's virtually impossible to go anywhere on this planet without seeing your exploits."

"Don't believe everything you read. You should know that, Lulu." Maybe calling her by an old nickname will get us out of this conversation.

She rolls her eyes. "Please. I know you well enough to understand that a lot of it's true."

"What do you mean by that?" I demand.

She takes a deep breath, almost like she's steeling herself for what she's about to say. "Look, let's just get it all out on the table. This is awkward, us working together."

"Not for me. Not at all." I lie. Like a rug.

Her eyes narrow, obviously not believing me. "You don't have any problem working for me after we...since we..."

"After we, what, Lulu?" I want her to say it. For some reason, I need her to acknowledge what happened between us, since we'd been too immature to have a detailed conversation about our breakup back then.

"Since we slept together," she hisses.

I pause to clear my throat. That's what she thinks? It was only sex between us? Because I remember something quite different. I sit up a little straighter. "Yes, that. And no, I'm an adult. I can work with you despite our past. The question is, can you?"

"Of course," she snaps, pushing her plate away. "Listen, I'm sorry. It's been a long and emotional day, and I apologize for bringing any of this up. I'm going upstairs to call the hospital and crash. I appreciate you ordering food for me, I was famished."

She slides out of her seat and parts the cabana curtain.

"Wait, no. I'll walk with you."

"You don't have to." She gives a little dismissive shake of her head, but I'm not going to let her stroll out of here alone. Not when there might be reporters, zealous fans, or worse. You never know.

By the time she's finished her sentence, I'm already dropping a couple hundred Euros on the table and standing up. "C'mon."

The voices in the poolside lounge melt into an indistinct murmur. Everyone is watching us. I'm obviously the most recognized driver in the sport, and by now, word about Lily's father has probably been all over the news and racing blogs.

Out of sheer protective instinct, I put my hand on the small of her back as we walk past the pool, past the DJ, past the palm trees. Her gaze slides to me for a millisecond, but she doesn't pull away or say anything. She knows not to make a scene, as do I.

The fronds of the palm trees sway in the slight breeze, a perfect scene for a perfect Miami evening. The pale blue lights from the pool reflect off the tiles, and quiet laughter spills from the cabanas. I try and focus on all those things instead of how warm her back is under my hand. How the only thing separating my hand from her bare skin is a thin piece of fabric.

I open the door for her, and we walk into the lobby, and we're ambushed by three men with cameras. "How's your father, Lily?" a reporter shouts.

We keep moving, toward the elevator. I know not to even look into the paparazzi's eyes, but Lily shoots them a glare as they shout questions.

"Dammit, I should've just gone to my condo," she mutters to me.

"There's still time. I can call you a car."

She shakes her head and tries to march toward the elevator, but the reporters are relentless.

"Ms. Onassis, can you talk about your father? How's he doing?"

"Is it true that you're going to be in charge of the team now?"

"Are you trying to make a statement about women in Formula World?"

"Will you tweet about every incident of sexual harassment that you encounter?"

Lily's eyes turn hard and glassy. I want to get her out of this situation immediately.

"What's it like having your former lover as your employee?"

At that question, she turns and snarls. I haven't been around Lily much in the past seven years, but I know her well enough to understand she has a short fuse.

"Get the hell out of my way," she growls.

Of course, the press goes wild, snapping photos and shouting even more questions. I wrap my hand around her upper arm and tug her toward the elevators. By now, hotel security has materialized, and attempts to get in between us and the reporters.

This only results in a crush of bodies, as these things often do. I wrap my arm around Lily and fold her into my body as we make our way through the throng. One of the security guards presses the button for the elevator, and another clears the way as the doors slide open. We hustle in.

"Penthouse," she says in a curt tone, and I jab the button. It's the same floor that I'm on, and where all the suites are located.

The press gets a real treat for a few seconds before the door closes. Lily swears under her breath and turn my head and get a whiff of her vanilla-scented shampoo.

"It's okay," I murmur. "Just stay calm."

My arm's around Lily's shoulders, and she's tight and intimate next to my body. I won't lie; it feels incredible to have her nearby.

She feels right, in a way no other woman has.

"You know I hate it when people tell me to stay calm." Her voice is the vocal equivalent of the word sneer.

The minute the doors slide shut, she wriggles out of my embrace and slumps against the elevator wall, pressing her palm to her forehead.

"Holy hell, I'd forgotten what that was like. It's one of the reasons I've tried to stay away all these years," she says with a sigh.

I can only guess the other reasons. "I'm sorry. I guess we should've anticipated that. I'm sure the news of your father and you are going to make headlines for weeks."

She squints. "Don't you have bodyguards these days?"

"Normally, I do, but I gave them the night off. Thought I could handle eating dinner in the hotel with you then go to my room. Apparently not."

The elevator stops and the doors slide open. She bursts out, not waiting for me, and I walk fast to keep up with her.

"I think we should look into a security detail for you," I say as we stop at a door at the far end of the hall.

She's holding her key card in mid-air, her face drawn and pale. The encounter with the paps really shook her. It's something I take for granted, but it's only at times like this that I realize how utterly absurd and nerve-rattling it really is.

"Yeah. It's one of the many things on my to-do list." Even her voice quakes a little.

It's only then that I realize her hands are shaking, almost too much to insert the key card. I gently take the card from her and insert it into the slot, pushing the door open. More than anything, I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her it's all going to be okay.

But I know that's exactly what she doesn't want. She dislikes hugs, and even more than that, hates when people question her competence. If I try to calm her down, she'll assume I think she can't handle this situation — or running the team.

And truthfully, she'd be right. I'm not sure she's capable of either. Not because she's not smart enough, or competent enough. It's because Formula World is largely and old boys club and the pressure from the media is relentless.

Her hazel eyes flash to me and she steps inside. "Okay, we'll talk about the engine in a day or two. Let me send some emails. I need to sort through things in here. This was my father's room, and his assistant is supposed to have sent me a bunch of information that I need to read through tonight. I have a mountain of stuff to look into, and hopefully by tomorrow I'll be up to speed."

She's rambling, like she always did when she was nervous. God, if I could only fix all this for her. But I can't. Not now, and maybe not ever.

After giving her back the key, I run my fingers through my hair and glance down the hall, hoping that the hotel won't let any press up here. "Listen, this news about you and your dad is going to hit the papers and be wild this week. Maybe for a couple of weeks. You haven't been around the sport, so you don't know how bad it's gotten with paparazzi and bloggers and amateur videographers. And don't even get me started with the TikTok creators."

"I'll deal with it. I can handle anything. It can't be worse than what I experienced at my last job." Her jaw is set in a rigid line.

"If you need any help, I'm always here. Tonight, I'm just right down the hall. You can call or knock for anything. You know that, right?"

She nods. "Thanks."

By now I'm filling the entire doorway, resting my forearm against the frame. "And maybe at some point we should discuss us—"

"Max, absolutely not. I'm in no shape for that tonight, or tomorrow, or ever. What happened between us is in the past. We were kids. So let's just leave it at that. We've got some serious adult shit going on here and I've got a team to run. Your job is to win. That's all. Win for the team. For my dad."

Our eyes meet, and I swear, the temperature in the air notches up about ten degrees. The desire to take her into my arms, the desire to kiss her, is too powerful. I wish I could tell her that all these years, I've won races for her.

A memory of the first time I saw her flashes in my brain. It was at another hotel, one similar to this. We locked eyes across that dance floor . When she looked at me, it was as if she could read my mind and see what I was thinking. We had so much in common. I'd like to know if we still do, and there's only one way to find out.

"Lily," I whisper.

We're only about a foot apart, and it would be easy for me to step forward and claim her mouth. Like I used to. But this is such a delicate, messed up situation that I don't dare.

If she wants me, she can kiss me. Fuck, I hope she kisses me.

"Max." My name on her lips makes my heart soften like it hasn't in years. I used to love when she whispered it in my ear when we were in bed together. It made me feel virile and invincible.

The tension between us crackles and sparks. The moment I've wanted for so long is finally here. I lick my lips, anticipating the taste of her.

Everything about Lily's appearance is different from the last time I saw her. Her hair is darker and shorter, her eyes are red and tired, her clothes are new and trendy. And then there's the sadness in her eyes, which I've never seen before. But the one thing that hasn't changed is how fucking beautiful she is to me.

Lily's look of determination, the downcast look on her face. It's all because of her father, and the ensuing crush of media. Her jaw still hasn't unclenched. Her hands are at her sides, balled into fists.

A kiss would relax her. I lean in a few inches, ready, waiting for her to make the next move. I normally have a lot of swagger with women, but Lily always did — and still does — make me feel like a bumbling teenager.

"Good night, Max." She slowly closes the door, and I have to step away to avoid getting smacked in the face. Shit. She shut me down. I can't blame her, not after the day she's had. But disappointment practically clouds my vision.

I turn to walk down the hall to my room, a low groan coming from my mouth. How in the ever-loving hell am I going to win races when the woman I've secretly loved for years is my team owner?

____

Are you loving Burn? Don't forget to pre-order CRASH! It will be available in print January 2023!