Page 53 of Full Throttle

Anthony scanned the casino. “I dare you…” His eyes landed on Juliette, and she shivered. There was something in that gaze she didn’t like. Something cruel and unrelenting. “I dare you to kiss Juliette.”

A frisson of shock went through her.

“No,” she said, at the same time that Dominic said, “Fuck off, Sinclair.”

Anthony smirked. “That’s my dare. Take it or leave it.”

Cap groaned. “Can we not?” He drained his beer, sneaking a lump of cheese to Clyde under the table. “That’s my former teammate and my little sister. I don’t want to watch them snog in a casino.”

“Or anywhere else,” Baz added dryly.

She couldn’t help it; she was looking at him again, damn it. Dominic leaned against the table, his hands clasped so tightly that the green veins in his forearms bulged. There was dark fire in his eyes, and—just for a second—his gaze flicked to her mouth, as if he was sizing up the possibility. Weighing up what the win would cost him, like a driver assessing a particularly difficult bit of track.

Goosebumps exploded along her arms. A flicker of curiosity went through her, accompanied by something hotter. Something that burned like midnight whiskey. Even now, she could recall kissing Dominic; he’d always kissed like he drove, with unyielding concentration, like he would raze everything in his path just to seize what he wanted. And when he was looking at her like that…

Dominic picked up his drink. “No.”

Something gave in her chest. Anthony raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“No.” Dominic sipped his drink, looking unbothered. “I’m not doing it. I resign from the game. Marchmont can have it.”

Anthony’s lip curled. “Funny. And here I thought I was doing you a favor.”

She tensed. But no. Anthony couldn’t know about their history, could he? He was just taking a guess. Still. If he hit upon the right conclusion…Cap leaned forward, and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously flat.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t know?” Anthony’s smirk widened. “Hastings wants to fuc—”

Dominic slammed his drink down. “Enough.” Champagne sloshed onto the table. The fire in his eyes could have melted steel. “I’ve never thrown a punch in a suit before. Don’t give me a reason to try.”

Tension hung over the table. Juliette cleared her throat. Her heart felt like it had inhaled too much helium and now hovered somewhere in the region of her throat, fluttering rapidly. He really meant it, she realized; Dominic was prepared to start a brawl in the world’s fanciest casino. Hell, he looked excited for it. God. The media would have a feeding frenzy.

So, for reasons unknown, Juliette found herself straightening and saying, “You never gave me a dare.”

All five men turned to look at her. Her gaze was fixed on Anthony.

“To win. You need to give me a dare.”

Slowly, Anthony smiled. “Dance with me.”

Juliette swirled her whiskey. In retrospect, what had she been expecting? A dare to limbo under the blackjack table? Of course Anthony would pick this. Mostly, she suspected, because he seemed to harbor genuine delusions that Dominic would care if they became involved. Still. She couldn’t be arsed to sit here pretending that everything was fine while Dominic looked entirely apathetic to the idea of kissing her. And a win was a win, so…

“Fine,” Juliette said, hopping off the stool. “Let’s dance.”

Chapter 18

Red Flag

Dominic hadn’t minded growing up in the public eye. Ribbon cuttings, award ceremonies, dinner with the Greek ambassador…he knew his claret from his cabernet, his dessert forks from his salad ones. And if he’d occasionally begrudged the endless photo ops, it was worth it because it meant that he could race. And he would have given up anything for racing.

No. He’d never minded being famous. But tonight, for the very first time, he really wished that he could cause a scene.

Smoke hung like a curtain, filtering through the heavy lights of the casino. The ding of the slot machines grated in his ears. He wasn’t usually one for hard liquor, but he could use a damn whiskey. He probably looked drunk. He felt drunk. Had that seriously just happened? Had Marchmont actually agreed to…

His head pounded.