Page 54 of Full Throttle

Not for the first time, Dominic glanced at where Juliette and Anthony were dancing. She had impressive rhythm, although he shouldn’t have been surprised; Juliette took to most athletic activities like tire to track. The thought stirred something even darker inside him. Darker, and infinitely more dangerous. He glanced toward the door. If only Cap were here to put a stop to this. But he’d begged off early, pointing out that he needed to take Clyde for a walk, and Baz had left shortly after that.

He ought to leave too.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave Sinclair and Juliette alone. Not when he kept looking at her like that.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Liêm said.

His friend leaned against the bar. His golden hat was drooping like a sleepy eye, and the telltale flush in Liêm’s cheeks was indicative of the fact that he would regret those last tequila shots tomorrow.

“I’m fine,” Dominic said.

Liêm gave him a look. “I’m sure. That’s why you’re about to snap that champagne glass.”

Truthfully, Dominic had forgotten that he was even holding a glass. He drained the champagne before setting it on the bar. “He’s not good enough for her.”

Liêm raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

Something like dark amusement swirled in his chest. Far from it. A thought occurred to him. “Hang on. Did you start that game earlier just to…?”

Liêm adjusted his top hat innocently. “To what?”

Dominic squinted. He should have guessed; Liêm couldn’t make it through a dinner party without trying to set up someone with his barber’s sister’s cousin. He was an incurable romantic. And while Dominic normally found it begrudgingly endearing…

“Marchmont’s my teammate. Nothing more.”

There. He almost believed it himself. Liêm, however, snorted.

“Right. And I’m a sea cucumber named Patricia.” He lobbed his top hat at Dominic, who caught it easily. Honestly. It was like Liêm forgot they did the same reflex training. “You two clearly have history. You need to kiss and work it out.”

“I’m not going to—” He cut off. Nope, not thinking about kissing Marchmont. “We’ve agreed to keep things professional between us. End of story.” Liêm pulled out his wallet, and Dominic frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting you a very strong drink.”

“I’m good,” Dominic said. “Really.” Liêm flagged down the bartender anyway, and Dominic exhaled. “For god’s sake, Liêm, I’m good. Go talk to that girl. She obviously fancies you.”

Liêm followed his gaze to where a blonde was eyeing him from a slot machine. “Are you sure?”

“Go.”

Liêm hesitated. But he must have decided that Dominic meant it because he started toward the slot machines. Dominic glanced at his watch. Twenty to ten. Well past his bedtime, especially the night before a Grand Prix.

Five minutes. Then he’d invent an excuse and leave.

The dancing was wrapping up. He watched as Juliette slipped off toward the toilets. And Sinclair…

Dominic stiffened.

Sinclair was heading in his direction.

“You’re lucky I bowed out,” Anthony called. He was sweaty from dancing, his blond hair flopping into his eyes. “I was close to winning that game.”

Dominic shrugged. “We make our own luck.”

“I’m not surprised you lost,” Anthony said. “Seems to be your specialty.”

Dominic gave him a cool look. If it was up to him, Sinclair would be out on the street, but alas, there were rules in casinos. Don’t touch the cards. Don’t throw your rivals out third-story windows. That sort of thing.

“She’s a dish,” Anthony murmured. “Don’t you think?”