Joemar Russo’s POVI’m great at two things—winning and fucking.Depends on the day, but I always take my skill set seriously when it comes to women and my career, and my secret Mafia dealings. I go big, especially when screwing up my life, when my sister Alyssa, Dante and Enzo Russo were gone with my life, my secret life. “Good job, Russo.” Jansen Chavez’s voice breaks through my thoughts. Good is relative, I suppose, but Saint Elise Racing’s race engineer isn’t bad for my ego.To be the best again, I need to get my head off how I just fucked up. And per the last team meeting, I need to sport a “sunny disposition” when I come off the track for the owners’ benefit. Apparently, my bad moods aren’t good for business.Sunny and losing aren’t synonymous, and getting overtaken on the last corner pushed me into seventh position on the grid tomorrow. “Fucking hell.”“Bring her around, Russo,” Jansen instructs over the radio. As my race engineer with Saint Elise Racing, I give him the respect
Madonna Saint Elise POVGrabbing the door, he lets it fall closed while we walk out together. “Are you taking off?”“To the hotel, but I don’t leave Miami until early in the morning. I was told to be back tomorrow afternoon just in case we need rehearsals.”“You’ll be at dinner, then? I’d like to hear about life in Vancouver or Italy and how you’re doing.”Despite a reputation that he honed like a knife of being a player, Norman Saint Elise has always had a heart of solid gold. He never cared what others thought about him unless they mattered to him. Like his wife. Anya has never taken his love for granted. And he loves her to the end of the earth and back again. And why he hid everything from the world.A girl can only be that lucky to find the guy of her dreams willing to fight for her. They sure don’t exist in Hollywood.I didn’t realize how tense I was, probably from the encounter I just had with that jerk of a driver, until my shoulders eased. “You don’t need to worry about me. I
Madonna Saint Elise POVAnd Lauren is right. Happiness is the best way to retaliate, even if I need to force myself to fake it. I can do what I need to. I’m a professional. I just hope I packed a revenge dress in my suitcase.I’ll make him swallow his pride, and he’ll beg to take me back when he sees me. It will be too late, but fun like that tenth birthday party and the go-karts.Marco comes to mind. The grump.I have no idea why it was so fun annoying him, but I enjoyed it more than I probably should have.As soon as the car pulls up to the hotel, I head to my room on a mission.Before talking to Lauren, I planned to attend the family dinner and then have a quiet night in, bingeing movies where the hero dies. But maybe, just in case I’m in the mood, I’ll go out instead.A night out is beginning to sound a lot more appealing. Might as well have a little fun like Carlos Pirrote did. I text a few friends to see who’s in town for a good time since I can’t think of a better place to let
Madonna Saint Elise POV“We should go, then.” He maneuvers down and starts sliding in.I move or get sat on, so I slip across the seat to the other side. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest in protest. “But you’re dropping me off first.”As soon as he shuts the door, the car pulls away from the hotel. “You got it, babe.”I glance back through the back window, realizing the last of my sanity was left under the hotel carport. Turning my eyes to the cracked screen of my phone, I tap lightly, hoping it works until I can get back to Canada to buy a new one.I sit back, watching the world pass by outside, and release a breath that had been weighing on my chest.“Is it that bad?”Angling my head to face him, I ask, “Is what that bad?”“Sharing a car with me?”I could stick it to him by saying something snarky, but I ease up, already tiring of the fight. “I have a lot going on.”“We all do.”Annoyance wrecks my composure, and I roll my eyes. “I get that, but you asked me specifically if sha
Joemar Russo POVShe smiles wider, and her cheeks heat like they did in the elevator before she tries to distract by tucking her hair behind her ear and taking another sip of wine. I see through the act she put on for her family tonight. I heard “It’s good” or “I’m fine” so many times but never saw the answers reach her eyes.With me, she dropped that confession like she needed to get it off her chest. I look around the table, hear the chatter, and realize she’s learned to play the game. She doesn’t compete with others. She sits in her space, content to hide the truth from them.But I see her.She’s lovely, even if she comes with a big dose of kick-ass snark. I want to hear everything she’s willing to share with me. Taking advantage of the situation, I ask, “How are you really doing?”“The relationship was dead a long time ago, but the repercussions of not being together will reverberate for the next year or more.”“Or until another scandal breaks?”Her unexpectedly loud laughter free
Jeomar Russo POVShould I have asked a few questions?Probably.It felt like I had enough details to sort the situation out, and quickly.My mistake.As I stand outside at two in the morning taking photos with the bouncers, the hour justifies the means to get in, get out, and try to get some sleep while I still can. When the rope is finally lifted to let me into the South Beach nightclub, I think I should have gathered a few more facts before agreeing to rescue my bosses’ little sister from the bathroom inside.Blue and pink lights flash into every corner of the two-story dance venue, including under the edges of the sunglasses I hope help to hide my identity. I cut through a sea of sweaty bodies dancing to endless beats that are supposed to resemble music. Although no one wants to hear a race car driver analyzing music tracks, I do have an affinity for great music, and this isn’t it.I finally reach the hall and walk past what some might call lewd acts. I’m no saint to judge others.
Madonna Saint Elise POVI underestimated the power of Jeomar Russo’s charisma.Now I understand why so many women crush on this man. At least he tells me they do. I’m taking him at his word until I have time to do my own investigative research when I return to Canada for filming.What I do know is that it’s easy to get lost in his green eyes, especially when they’re locked on you like prey. I can’t tell if he wants to eat me in the most delicious way or kill me, for real. I’m okay hanging around him a bit longer to find out because he’s stupidly handsome.A cross between a surfer with his sun-lightened brown hair, a GQ model, and well, a race car driver, he breaks the mold regarding expectations—physically and in personality.That I find him so appealing is frustrating.I shouldn’t want a man like him—someone who can’t resist challenging me at every corner, has no qualms about calling me out, and tips into banter that leans more toward finding me intolerable than desirable.Does he fi
I tap the end of his nose. “What do you suggest I do?” I ask, booping the tip. “And it better not involve sex with you.”Clicking his tongue, he grins. “There goes that plan.” He reaches up to tuck my hair back from my face. His smile disappears as his fingers linger on the shell of my ear. A rise in his chest spurs other body parts to rise along with it. “I . . . uh . . .”“Eight months.” I suck in a breath and release it easily around him. “I think it’s been eight months since I had sex or anything else that would . . . would—”“Would?”“Release some tension.”I almost expected him to laugh out loud at me, but that’s not what he does. His fingertips slide around my ear, then lower to my collarbone. He traces an imaginary design across my chest, leaving a wake of goose bumps behind, and whispers, “That’s too bad.”“Yeah, it’s a tragedy.” I wriggle on top of him because we’ve come this far already anyway.The right side of his mouth lifts. And though that just adds to his appeal, that