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
Joemar Russo POV“How would you do it if you can’t get a word in edgewise?”Lifting up on her elbows, she asks, “Seduce you?” Falling back in a fit of laughter, she flails her arms around the crumpled sheets before relaxing and looking back at me. “I don’t have to seduce men, so it’s not a skill set I’ve developed, but if I had to pick one thing, at the moment, I’d have the bed made to make it more enticing to stay.”I toe off my shoes. Whether she decides to stay or go, I’m getting in that bed. What happens after that is her decision. “I was sleeping when you called to have me rescue your ass.”She slips off the edge and turns her backside to me. With a pat, she asks, “This ass? The ass you’re obsessed with?”“Fuck me,” I growl, reminding myself to be a gentleman. “That’s the one.” I release a sigh, equally exasperated and getting hard watching her walk toward the bathroom. What the fuck have I gotten myself into with her?Trouble.Bad decisions.“Don’t go to bed without me.” She clo
I look down at the tee I stole from Joemar, grinning like I got away scot-free from a bank robbery. Wonder if he woke up smiling like I did. Hope so since it’s race day. “Though it’s nothing big, I did . . .” I stop speaking when I lay my eyes on her. Her knuckles whitening, her eyes fixed forward, and a weird vibe fills the car. “What’s going on, Paula?”“You’ve missed the news this morning.” She glances at me and then back at the road again.I push up to right myself and take a deep breath. My stomach twists in knots from the thought of my private life becoming gossip. “Did the story about Carlos Pirrote come out?”“Um. No.” She cringes and hands me her phone. “I know you don’t have social media for all the right reasons, but you need to get online.”Taking the phone, I’m nervous about seeing what I’ll find. “I had all my notifications like Google Alerts off as well. What is it? Just tell me.”“Open my phone.”“I don’t think I want to,” I joke, but my laugh is riddled with nerves. I
“We understand, Madonna.” Harry saves me the pain of having to spell it out in front of my parents.I slide forward in the chair and pick the phone up again. Taking it off speaker, I hold it to my ear. “I’m sorry about the sponsors.”“Sponsors are like skittish kittens. They thrive on threatening to pull out their money. It’s their way of feeling like they have control of the situation,” Harry says with conviction set in his tone. “Unfortunately, I need to go and deal with this mess.” He pauses, and for some reason, it concerns me. “Hello?” I say, making sure they’re still there.“Madonna,” he says, “you need to keep your distance from Marco and the races in general until this settles down.”I’m being grounded? Well, this is humiliating. I dip my head and rub my temple that’s starting to throb. I gather the strength anyway and ask on an exhale, “Are you asking me?”“No.” The answer is blunt, though I know it wasn’t said maliciously.Why does it feel like I just had the rug pulled out
“It will be a constant reminder of how I was right, and you were wrong.” Her giggle populates like champagne bubbles through our connection.“I bought the phone so you could see the mess we made online like I have to.”“It’s quite the mess.” As our laughter dies down, she adds, “I’ve been banned from the track.” Her tone is softer, her words more forgiving.The punch comes with the admission. I’m not surprised, but it’s bullshit. “Forever?”“For now.”I nod, though she can’t see me. Sitting up, I say, “Good thing we don’t exist in each other’s worlds.” Nothing about that feels genuine. Even I don’t believe the lies I’m spewing.“Yeah . . . good thing.” A quick pause is cut short. “I should let you go.”“You don’t have to.” No adjustments. Life is smooth right now. Don’t wreak havoc on your career over a woman. “I didn’t mean it how it came out.” “How did you mean it, Marco?”“You’re there, and I’m here, and . . . we’ve just not run into each other before.”I can’t see her, but I’m no
Reaching over, she touches the top of my hand. “I know. I appreciate it.” She glances out the glass doors, watching Cullen and Joemar on the terrace, and says, “I used to drink on race days.” When her eyes return to mine, her expression falls. “I struggled to let go of the image of the family I imagined I should have.”How does she see this going? I glance back at Joemar, silently worrying I’m crossing a line I shouldn’t without him. “That can be hard to reconcile.”“Don’t worry, it was reconciled a long time ago. Joemar and I are oil and water. Things are how they should be.” She leans in and whispers, “I’m so glad he found you. You saved his life.”This time I open my mouth, but then close it, thinking about what she said. I always thought he saved me, like on the red carpet. But when I look back over my shoulder, I think she might be right. Joemar didn’t care about anything but Cullen and his career.Now he has a life.I cross the imaginary line and give her a hug. She hesitates at
Madonna Saint Elise POVShrugging, I laugh so softly that I barely even hear it. “I don’t need much to make me happy. You and maybe a Tootsie Pop or some chocolate.”His grin extends, carving into his cheeks as his eyes stay steady on mine. “I’m going to give you the world, Madonna Saint Elise. I’ll buy you a whole candy shop just to see your smile.”“It’s not for me that I want it.” Too subtle?A roguish grin takes over, and his hands lower to my hips, pulling me on top of him. He’s already hard when he shifts my hips forward and back again over his length. “I’m going to spoil you rotten, my love.”The teasing gets the better of me, and I finally kiss him, briefly losing myself in the headiness of being together again. “Good thing I love to be spoiled.” Slipping lower, I take hold of his erection and add, “But I want to go first.” I spoil him with every ounce of my being, making love and making him come so hard, first with my mouth and then with my body. I take every inch of him and
I stare at her, wondering what that text exchange was about if she never wanted to see me again. Frustration sets in as she opens the car door. Still standing in the headlights of the car, I throw my arms out wide. “So that’s it, babe?”With one foot already in the car, she stops and looks at me over the door. “I didn’t wage this war, so it’s not mine to finish.”“But you’re in it.” I come closer. “You’re in the middle of this battle, so you have to fight it.”Both her feet land back on the street, her lips tightening as the fire is lit inside when she stands. “I don’t have to do anything. You didn’t just break my phone. You broke my heart, Jeomar. It’s up to you to fix it.”“I’m trying.”“Try harder.” She slams the door closed. “You think saying sorry is enough. It’s not. I can’t forgive you just because you’re ready to be back in my life. You shifted the blame to me under fears of . . .” Planting her hands on her hips, she says, “I have no idea. I don’t know what happened that day.
Jeomar Russo POV“What the . . .?”Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, I stare at my phone and the message on the screen. My chest aches where my heart used to be, but I rarely feel it anymore even with adrenaline pumping through me.“What is it, Daddy?” Cullen whines, “This is boring.” I’ve heard that a few times over the past two weeks. It was nice to have him for an extended period, but I think he might be sick of his old man.I shove my phone in my back pocket because I can’t reply with my mind going in a million directions and my kid tugging on my hand. I try not to be on my phone as much when I’m with my son, but I can’t stop thinking that I’m imagining the message that just popped up. “It’s not boring. We walk to experience life instead of sitting in the back of a vehicle. Look around, Cullen. What do you see?”While he’s busy trying to spot one of a million differences from the last time we walked this route, I can’t help but wonder why now? Why would Madonna text me out
Madonna Saint Elise POVI rush back to my trailer, swinging the door wide open, and scramble to find the remote.Clicking the TV on, I search the channels until I find P1 racing. I have no idea if I’ve missed Joemar qualifying or if he stayed off the track this week like he should have.“Dumonte. Pace Set. Rogue Automotive.” I gasp when I see Saint Elise on the track. “Who’s in the driver’s seat? Come on. Come on.”“Had their reserve at the paddock this week . . .” The announcer rambles blah blah . . . “Quite the accident . . . lucky to be alive. Back in the saddle. He was cleared, but we’re about to see if he’s recovered.”I don’t know why my heart sinks other than knowing Joemar shouldn’t be out there. What are my brothers thinking?I sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me, clasping my hands together nervously. He was so worried about sitting out a race, but one mistake could cost him his career.“This is the end,” Carlos says, taking a seat on the top step.“We’ve been long
Joemar Russo POVI’m not sure in what—God, his recovery, or that things will work out how they should. I don’t question her because we all handle tragedies differently, but I want to taste that same faith that makes her eyes shine through the tears she’s holding back. “Have you heard anything?” I ask in a whisper, careful not to have Cullen overhear. I’m grasping for any news that will give me the same buoy to hold on to while still finding comfort in her touch.“He’s going to be okay, but they still don’t know the extent of the damage since they didn’t want to cut the layers of his clothes before reaching the hospital. They’re doing that now, separating the fibers from the burns.” Cullen wiggles at her side. She turns to me and says, “I’m going to find him a bathroom.”Cullen comes over and envelops me in his arms. I didn’t know I needed the embrace until I was wrapped in it. A stifled cry chokes me up, and the tears threatening to fall this whole time finally do. I turn into him, hu
Madonna Saint Elise POV“You left me to fend for myself, Lauren.”“I can have security in place by tonight, but you must take some responsibility. You went rogue by having Joemar Russo crash the red carpet like he did.”“I didn’t do anything but arrive like I was told. He showed up because he cared. He knew that I would be walking the carpet alone following Carlos’s engagement announcement.” Even her heavy breath sounds argumentative and rubs me wrong. “I was thrown to the wolves last night, but I’m not going to fight with you. We’re clearly at a crossroads.” Sitting in my trailer alone, I move the steamed zucchini around on my plate, but then stop and set the fork down.I can’t do this. I don’t want to be here.“We’re not. I’m team Madonna. You know I like a plan in place and for it to go smoothly. I apologize for not being there or having staff available for you. I will be there with you next time.”I’m not cold-hearted, but I am upset. I have no idea where we go from here. I just k
Tears fill my eyes, and with no time to find my sunglasses, they fall. A back door is opened and through watery vision, I squeeze through the chaos. The phone in my back pocket buzzes as I climb inside the car. I don’t even care if my suitcase makes it at this point. I tell the driver, “Go. Please go.”How do I go from one of the best nights of my life to dropping my head into my hands and crying?“Are you okay, miss?”“No. I’m not.” I turn to look outside, but something catches my attention in my periphery. I look at the driver again and see him handing me a box of tissues.He says, “I’m sorry. That was awful.”Taking the box, I stare at him. As awful as that was back there, here I’m being offered the kindness of a stranger. “Thank you.” This is what matters. Not people who make more money off upset celebrities or the paparazzi who make a living off provoking someone to capture their worst in a photo. “I appreciate it.”He nods, focusing his attention forward for the remainder of the
Joemar RussoPOVI have connections, so it wasn’t hard to snag a ticket. I’m hoping Madonna will be happy to see me. Everything we have could be ruined by a bad decision. This could be my worst of all time, and that’s an impressive list.Stepping out of the SUV, I straighten my jacket and button it. I don’t dig these events, but I’ve been to enough to know what to do. I’m guided forward to the press and start the game, answering questions and taking photos. The positive about not being announced until arrival is that no one is prepared to talk to you.The downside, they wing it. “The last time we saw you and Madonna Saint Elise to get her, you were holding hands in Miami.” The journalist holds the microphone under my nose and asks, “Are you here to support her as a friend, or is there more between the two of you?”I step back and reply, “She’s a brilliant actress. I’m here to support her and the movie.”Not really into the fame side of things, I start walking ahead until I hear someone