Page 50 of Full Throttle

“Hello?”

Dominic switched ears. “Are you in Monaco?”

“Hello, Dominic,” Liêm said wryly. “I’m well, thanks. Nice of you to ask.”

“I just saw my father. And Sinclair.”

It wasn’t what he’d intended to say, but there you go, he’d said it now. There was a long pause, then Liêm exhaled.

“Fuck.” A slot machine chimed in the background. Definitely in Monaco then. “I’m out with some others for drinks. Come meet us.”

“Who?”

Liêm rattled off a list of names. “They’re nice blokes. You’d like them.”

Dominic wouldn’t like them. He was sure. This was no reflection upon them, but rather his general policy toward people. He thought of friends like additional weight to a race car: They would only slow you down.

Liêm was the exception, of course, but Liêm had also followed Dominic around their boarding school, chattering incessantly until he browbeat him into submission. Even now, Dominic felt confident that he’d had no say in the matter.

“One more thing.” Liêm hesitated. “Sinclair’s coming too.”

Right. That made it easy. “Fuck no.”

Liêm sighed. “Look, I saw the article. If it was up to me, the prick wouldn’t be coming, but—”

“I’m not coming,” Dominic said shortly. He was already lowering his phone to search for the nearest kebab shop. Or maybe he could just have one delivered? Was it outrageous to ask some frazzled delivery person to bike a mile in the blistering heat with a five-euro kebab strapped to their back?

Liêm paused. “What if I said that Juliette’s here?”

Dominic gripped the phone. Cars whizzed past, their sleek black exteriors glinting in the dying light. He imagined Sinclair and Juliette in a smoky casino. Sinclair’s hand inching up her lower back. Juliette smiling up at him.

His grip on the phone tightened.

Yeah. Not fucking happening.

Dominic’s voice was grim. “I’m going home to change. Then I’ll be there.” He switched ears. “Send me the address.”

Chapter 17

Dangerous Games

Juliette swirled her cocktail. “I thought drivers didn’t drink during the season.”

Cap and Liêm exchanged a look. They were sitting at a table in the Monte Carlo Casino; plush velvet drapes lined the walls, and chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like glittering diamond earrings. Cap slipped a piece of chicken under the table, where it swiftly vanished, replaced by slobbery dog saliva. Juliette glanced at the security guard; she wasn’t sure if pets were allowed in the casino, but she found that everyone was willing to turn a blind eye where Cap was concerned. Not because her brother was famous, but because he was infuriatingly charming when he wanted to be.

“Monaco’s an exception,” Cap said, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “It’s tradition to drink the night before Monaco.”

“It’s the only exception,” Liêm corrected. For reasons unknown, he was wearing a glittery top hat, a playing card tucked behind his ear. “Makes the race more interesting.”

Cap shook his head. “Do you remember when Alex was sick in his helmet last year?”

Liêm smirked. “I told him the vodka was a mistake.”

“And then he blamed it on the heat.”

“Even though it was raining.”

Both boys cracked up, drawing glances, and Juliette hunched closer to her drink. She still wasn’t used to this. The staring. The whispers. Yesterday, she’d seen a yacht in the harbor and thought, Holy shit. I could buy one of those.