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“MR. DALTON?”
Shaken out of the complete daze this beauty had me wrapped in, I turned to see a pleasingly not disheveled version of my personal assistant standing at my side. She really was a marvel. Dutiful to the core, Zara had obviously taken the time to visit a spa, get her hair done, stop by a high-end boutique, and make a stop at Aro for some sexy shoes.
“What's up?” I asked with a smile.
She flicked her gaze at my sexy companion, smiled apologetically, then looked back at me, stress coloring her features. “There’s... a slight problem with your, ah, budding superstar.”
The words had all the effect of a record scratch.
Shit. Perfect timing...
I grimaced and gave her a nod. “Thanks for letting me know. Be right there.”
Giving me a quick nod, Zara hurried away, iPad in hand, obviously determined to put out the proverbial fire whose name was Kristoff Vance before matters spun out of control. The kid was magic behind the wheel, but was overly emotional, socially stupid, and unaccustomed to fame. It’d be a while before he got a handle on how to compose himself at these types of high-profile events. Hopefully it wouldn’t take a lawsuit the size of Texas to teach him that lesson.
Sighing, I returned my gaze to the woman who made the crowd all but disappear. Maybe Kristoff’s flare-up was good timing, after all. Any longer around this one, and I was sure I’d lose my head.
I turned to look at the gorgeous redhead and gently grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on it. “I’ll come back and check on you; make sure your drink choices are nothing short of exquisite.”
She grinned with a flirtatious intelligence that intrigued me, a glinting in her hazel-green eyes, and a slight blush on her dimpled cheeks. “I’m sure nothing on your drink list will disappoint.”
“I aim just a little higher than avoiding disappointment,” I joked.
Her eyebrow arched and she bit back a smile.
I left her there, knowing her eyes were on me as I drifted away from her and exited the room entirely. Oddly enough, it was like I could still feel her. As if her unique essence had clung to me in the short time we’d spent together.
Yeah, I’d definitely be back to check on her drink... and then just her.
“IS THERE A GOOD REASON you’re behaving like a giant toddler, Kris?” I asked, my jaw bunching in annoyance. Apparently, Kristoff had almost gotten into a fist-fight with his ex-girlfriend’s new man.
His eyes flashed in defiance and anger as he glared at me. “Is there a fuckin’ reason—”
I poked him in the chest. “Before you answer me, consider whether or not my paying for your customized ride and the three drivers you insist on having, not to mention what we do for our mutual stock racing aspirations, is something you want to lose. Because believe me, kid, I can make all of those things disappear like magic.”
Kristoff gritted his teeth and huffed like an angry bull, but he’d clearly gotten my point. These types of histrionics were beneath all my drivers, and he might have gotten away with it on the last team he’d been ejected from, but he wouldn’t be doing it here. Not under my employ; I was paying this fucker far too much money to turn my father’s company into a laughingstock. Kristoff might be among the best, but there were other contenders up for the job, and I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to call them if I had to.
“No,” he murmured.
With my hands in my suit pockets, I pulled one out made a dramatic gesture of craning my head toward him, hand cupped around my ear. “I’m sorry. I’m going to need you to speak up.”
“No. There’s no good reason for acting like a giant toddler,” he replied sarcastically, looking ticked but resigned.
I then folded my hands in front of me, my eyes burning with resolve and only the barest hint of satisfaction. “I know adjustments take time, but this is the last talk of this sort we’ll be having. Are you trackin’, ace?”
Swallowing his nerves, it was clear Kristoff was trying to hold onto at least some of his dignity, even if I was wielding the bigger dick right now.
“Got it.”
“So, we’re clear?” I asked, not breaking eye contact.
“Crystal, boss.”
“Great. Get your shit together, and get the fuck outta here. Your groupies aren’t going to fuck themselves, and our investors are waiting to meet the prize cow. Chop, chop.”
It was cockishly unnecessary for me to take it that far, but sometimes you had to speak to hotheads like Kristoff in a language they understood best. Especially whiny ones who might pull the absolute worst stunts on racing days. If Kristoff couldn’t handle fame, I needed to know now. Now that the kid had agreed to leave his attitude at the door, I’d better only require reinforcements. And that wouldn’t come from playing Mister-Nice-CEO. I would have to be a fucking lion regularly, if only when it was needed.
Kristoff wavered, like he still wanted to raise whatever matter had caused his initial tantrum, but he stopped short, catching the warning in my eyes.
“Is there still a problem?” I asked.
Sighing, Kristoff shook his head, and disappeared.
My gaze moved over to Zara with an unspoken keep an eye on him. She nodded and immediately flanked him as he all but stormed out of the room.
We both knew tonight was critical. This had to be the last show of idiocy beyond a drunken show of lust and stupidity that could be easily explained to the press, so long as it happened later—after the race.
Drawing a sharp breath, I made my way outside. I used the side door leading to the small alleyway that would afford me some privacy. I needed a minute to get my shit together. I didn’t want to go around snapping at people. Grabbing another drink was a fast track to losing my perspective when I needed it the most. Looking out over the winding forestry circling the Dalton Mansion’s perimeter, I slowly reeled in the anger and took some deep breaths to calm me down and get the adrenaline to level out.
I’d been a hothead once, too. Just like Kristoff, I’d thought I had the world in my palm, and it was everyone’s job to cater to me. If it hadn’t been for my father’s firm but tolerant guidance, I’d have spun out of control, too, and blown my chances altogether.
Could it be that Kristoff was now needing the same kind of guidance my father had provided for me? I took a deep breath and tried to summon up patience and empathy, the kind my father had shown me when I’d been on top and thought the world was my oyster.
So... Patience. Firm, measured patience.
It would be fine. Everything would fall into place. No deals would be blown.
Things will work themselves out.
I sighed. All too often, I had to talk to myself like this. Had to calm the inner beast with hard logic on repeat like some sort of mantra. Sometimes, it worked. Other times, I needed to just roll with what I was feeling. Usually, that meant letting that tightly wound rubber-band snap to get my point across. It was in those moments that my first instinct was to grab keys and go for a ride to calm me.
But right now, driving wasn’t an option. I was feeling better after the internal pep-talk, and that was all I really needed. I’d hold onto that, and go on with the night as if that potential million-dollar scare never happened.
Straightening my tie, I took a long look at myself in the reflection of the mansion windows, remembering my image. Because that was what it was about. What everything was about. Clearing my throat, I drew a deep breath and made my way back into the party, quickly putting on my friendly business face when I passed several, low-level partygoers—bloggers from a popular digital magazine.
Granting them a brilliant smile, I gave them a nod. “Glad you could make it out. Remember to try some of Speed’s newest flavors. You won’t regret it.”
I swept past them before they had a chance to request an interview. If they were press, their passes weren’t out and visible where they should be, and they knew they had to go through my assistant to schedule that sort of thing.
Not to be a prick, but there were only so many hours left to this thing, and my first priority was to my investors, plain and simple. My second priority... my eyes swept the room, landing on the hottie who’d taken my breath away before I’d been called out to douse Kristoff’s tantrum. My gut clenched when she laughed and tilted her head back, revealing a companion beside her.
A dude.
Some Thor-looking guy, who was just a bit less muscular, and clearly lacking the hammer. He had the look of a timid, displaced young man in his mid-twenties. Like me, but far less experienced in the ways of the world. Definitely not of the lady’s caliber I had expected her to be seen with. I really should rescue her from the windbag. He was probably bothering her.
I sighed. I should have gotten her name. What had I been thinking, not even getting a name?
Fuck it. I could get my feet under me on this. I would need an excuse to get her away from him. Maybe a tour? What girl wouldn’t gush over being invited on a tour of the assembly room floor, complete with priceless vintage models of vehicles nobody else could get close to?
A tour it is.
I could spare at least that much time before the pre-show and midnight race. Needlessly adjusting my tie again, I made my way to the center of the room, intent on claiming my prize.