Page 130 of Full Throttle

Dominic watched as a child dropped her sandwich, stared, and then promptly burst into tears. Something acidic rose in his throat. Could he tell Juliette the truth? Confess that his father had threatened to bar her from the sport? She deserved that, surely. They could work through it together.

But no.

He knew Jules. She’d insist on going straight to his father, and Dominic knew how that would play out. Vance loathed insubordination, and he despised being blindsided even more. His father could crush careers like a cigarette butt beneath his shoe. Dominic ought to know; he’d seen Vance do it countless times before.

Dominic looked at Juliette. Resignation settled in his chest like a lead weight. And even though it would kill him—even though Dominic knew, with a sudden certainty, that he would wake up in a cold sweat for years to come, his bedding tangled like winding sheets—he forced himself to say the words.

“Just let it go. Please.”

She raised her chin. “No.”

Her lip trembled. Such a small movement, but Dominic caught it, because he’d known to look for it. His chest felt like a cardboard box stamped down in a bin. And god help him, he couldn’t do it.

“I need to go,” Dominic said.

A hand caught his wrist. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Marchmont—”

“Sir?” Gabriel interrupted. His bodyguard’s shoulders were tense. “The paparazzi have arrived. We should move to a more discreet location.”

Dominic paused. Impossible to tell if Gabriel meant it or if the other man was throwing him a bone. “How long?”

“Two minutes.”

Dominic turned to Juliette. “We can’t be seen together.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Her grip tightened. “Not until you talk to me.”

Footsteps echoed down the gallery. There was the click of cameras, followed by wild shouts, and Dominic’s heart sped up. Ah. So Gabriel had been serious. How unfortunate.

Almost gently, Dominic disentangled himself. “It’s better this way. Trust me.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Juliette demanded. “Just be honest. I deserve that much, at least.”

The shouts grew louder. The acid was a physical thing, burning Dominic’s throat. It was so rare, he thought, to find something that you loved in this world; even rarer to find something you would give up the entire world for. He knew that Juliette felt that way about racing; it was part of her genetic makeup, as inherent as her blood and bones.

He couldn’t take that away from her.

Dominic closed his eyes. To love someone was to know what would hurt them irreparably. He dug for those words now, like dredging poisoned water from a well. I’m sorry, he thought desperately. I’m so fucking sorry for this.

“You want honesty?” His voice was cold. “Fine. I’ll be honest. I’m embarrassed of you.”

Juliette paused. “What?”

“I’m embarrassed,” Dominic said evenly, though his heart was racing, “that you think you’ll make it to the paddock one day. I’m embarrassed that you genuinely think you have a shot at winning the championship.”

“You don’t mean that,” Juliette said slowly.

But she was unsure. He could tell by her voice. Dominic clung to that, like a drowning sailor clinging to the mast of a sinking ship.

“I mean it,” Dominic said, and the words tasted like iron. “I didn’t want to tell you before. But it’s true.”

“What are you saying?”

Dominic forced a smile with the barest edge of cruelty. “You really need it spelled out?”

The footsteps drew closer. They had twenty seconds, Dominic calculated. Maybe less. Juliette raised her chin; there was a slight tremble to it that nearly broke his resolve, although her blue eyes were steely.