Throttled: Dirty Air (Book 1)(75)

He tries to say something, but I throw up my hand to shut him up. The upscale restaurant he chose allows us the privacy we need for this heart to black fucking heart.

“And you threaten my girlfriend? You actually fucking told her that her brother may lose a contract with Bandini? Like how sad and shitty is your life that you’d do that? I’m done trying with you. You’ve been a crappy dad my whole life, only caring when it benefits you. In the end, being in my life is more about your image than about being there for me.”

I only pay attention to his rapid blinking and lowering my heart rate.

“You can’t cut me out when I sponsor your team. I was serious about Santiago’s contract renewal. Try me.” He hisses like the fucking snake he is.

“Oh, Father. The thing is I have it all handled. Bandini no longer needs your generous donations. I attended almost every sponsor event, meeting, and gala held this year, slowly securing enough sponsorships to outbid yours. You’re done with my team. Feel free to back another group if you want. Not sure if they need a donor with a crappier attitude than the sewer you crawled out of, but hell, you are a legend after all.”

“This isn’t over. I’m still a sponsor this year, so I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

I throw my cloth napkin on the table. “I don’t give a fuck. Do whatever you feel like, but stay the hell out of my way.”

No need to sit around and spend another minute with this man, my stomach threatening to rid itself of shame and a sixty-dollar steak.

He doesn’t bother with an apology.

I leave my past behind at the table of some fancy-ass restaurant. Fuck him to the farthest galaxy and back because the moon is just too damn close for comfort.





31





Maya


“Today we’re here with Santiago since he gets jealous of all the attention I give other racers.”

My brother and I sit at a sleek bar top in the Bandini motorhome. I line up two shot glasses next to a bottle of tequila while Santi smiles at the camera situated on an adjacent table.

“Santi admitted he’s down about not making it on the podium the other day. So we are going to do an exclusive episode of Tequila Talks because we still haven’t learned tequila doesn’t fix our problems. I hope this episode goes better than the last one. I’ll ask him a series of questions where he has to take a shot whenever he refuses to answer. I end the show after four because he weighs a lot and I can’t pick his butt up off the floor. Blame their strict workout regimen and muscle mass.”

My brother flexes his bicep at the camera.

“Warning: I didn’t come up with these questions. I want to clarify since fans want answers to things I do not need to know about my brother.” My lips purse at the horny bunch of fans out there—way more than I expect, all tapping away in my inbox about these guys.

I exaggerate a shudder at his mischievous grin and stick my tongue out at him.

“Favorite thing about your sister?” I bat my lashes at him.

“Hmm, who came up with that question?” His brow lifts.

I shrug and fail to answer.

“I love her passion, fearlessness, and carefree personality.”

Aw, how sweet.

“Who knew you had such kind thoughts about me? Okay, next question. The worst part about F1?”

“Hands down the fact that I don’t sleep in my bed for months at a time. I miss coming home.”

Ah, the not-so glam side of traveling the world.

“What you really miss is your gym and bubble baths.” I smile at my brother.

“Bath bombs don’t feel the same in a hotel bathtub.” He pouts.

I suppress a laugh. “Best part of having a teammate?”

“The shared points you get together. Plus, personal tips and recommendations.” Santi genuinely smiles at the camera.

“Ugh. I hate this one. Your favorite sex position?”

He winks at the camera and knocks back a shot. Good answer.

“Glad that’s past us. Next, any special girl in your life?”

He flips his empty shot glass. “Not since high school.”

“See girls, boys are sensitive just like us. They get their heart broken once and it’s game over.”

He chuckles to himself. “See guys, girls are annoying as ever, no matter the age.”

Oh, burn. “Moving on—”

“What’s going on here?” Noah’s voice makes my stomach flip.

“Tequila Talks. Want to join?” My brother has loose lips after one shot.

Sure enough, Noah grabs the extra glass and fills it up. He sits in the seat next to me, ready for questions.

My eyes dart between Noah and Santi. “Wait, he can’t join. I don’t have questions for him.”

“Ask him the same ones.” Santi offers me a quizzical look.

“Lovely.” My jaw hurts from my teeth grinding.

Noah dares to look smug. All right, he asked for it.

“If you could go on a date with any celebrity, who would it be?” I give the camera a warm smile before turning toward the guys.

Noah coughs. I did try to stop him.

“Definity Taylor Hill. That girl is fine,” my brother blurts out.

My hands fidget in front of me, anticipating whatever response Noah comes up with.