Chapter 7 Adeline
Adeline POV
"I don't know anything about you," I say, my voice rising. "Because you've been lying to me since the beginning. You played me."
"I didn't play you!" He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans toward me. "I liked you. I liked that you didn't know who I was. For one night, I wasn't Richard Akilov’s son. I wasn't a lawyer. I was just a guy who met a girl who rode like she had a death wish, and we promised not to talk about each other that night."
"I don't have a death wish," I whisper because he's so close that I can see the gold in his gray eyes.
"Yes, you do," he counters softly. "I saw you on that track. You race like you’re trying to outrun your own shadow, and later, you used me to forget yourself."
My breath hitches when I realize that he's right, which only makes me hate him for seeing through me so easily.
"We can't do this."
"Do what?" He knows I'm talking about the tiny space between us. "Percy, move back."
"Why?" His gaze drops to my lips. "Because we’re family now?"
"Yes."
"Bullshit." He leans closer, his hand coming up to grip the back of my seat. "You don't care about this family scenario. You hate it, and you’re scared."
"I am not scared of you."
"Then why is your heart racing?" He challenges. "I can see your pulse, Adeline. Right here." He brushes his thumb against the hollow of my throat.
The contact sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I should push him away or slap him, that would certainly give me a level of satisfaction. Instead, I stay in the box.
"You’re dangerous," I breathe.
"So are you," he breathes. "You have no idea how hard it was to sit at that dinner table last night and pretend I didn't know what you tasted like."
The air leaves my lungs, and for a split second, I thought he would kiss me, and I would have let him if the sound of a helicopter didn't cut through the air, breaking us apart.
We look up to see a helicopter banking in the distance, heading toward the helipad on the mansion we were staying at, meaning they were back.
Percy swore roughly under his breath before throwing the Jeep into reverse.
"Tour’s over," he says roughly.
"Good." I choke out and don't look at him again. He drives us back to the mansion in silence, but the tension is even thicker now, if that's possible.
I jump out of the Jeep the moment he stops in the compound and prepare to avoid him for the rest of our stay here when he calls me.
"Adeline."
"What?"
"This isn't over," he says. It sounds like a warning or a promise, so I don't answer.
The dinner that night is excruciating, but only for the two of us.
Our parents are in high spirits, drunk on love and expensive wine, oblivious to the fact that their children are engaged in a silent cold war. Percy doesn't look at me, and I don't look at him.
We eat our food, answer politely when we're spoken to, and when it is safe to leave without it looking like we're running, we retreat to our rooms immediately with our parents not knowing anything was amiss.
Now, it's the middle of the night, and I'm still unable to sleep. I'm used to the noise of the city, where there's always traffic and noise.
Being here with this silence is jarring, forcing me to acknowledge my thoughts and feel the way his skin feels on mine. Every time I close my eyes, I feel his hand on my pulse.
I groan in frustration and turn in bed again. I need to do something to put me out of my misery. It was then that I heard the faint but unmistakable whine of an engine being started, specifically the engine of a bike.
I jump up before I can even question what I'm doing and pull on a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie. I grab my sneakers and tiptoe out the balcony. Sneaking down the ledges made me feel like a rebellious teenager, and I welcome the feeling.
I follow the sound, and it leads me away from the main house down a paved path lined with palm trees toward a lone building I hadn't noticed earlier.
It's a garage that doubles as a hangar. The doors are open, so I step into the shadow to peek inside. I'm not surprised to see Percy on the bike he rode at the warehouse, running laps with it on the airstrip with so much grace I had to stop myself from drooling. This is the Rider that caught me off guard.
He must have sensed that he was no longer alone because his bike stopped a few feet away from my spot in the shadows.
He kills the engine, making me more aware of the silence.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, not surprised to see me.
"The noise woke me up," I lie.
He catches my lie immediately. "So you did hear the engine and came running?"
I don't give him the satisfaction of a response, instead, I change the subject. "You have a private track."
"Richard likes his toys. He collects vintage cars, but I prefer something with more life." He pats the tank of the bike. "She was feeling cooped up, so I thought I'd stretch her legs."
I run my hand over the Ducati in admiration. "She’s beautiful, custom exhaust?"
"Yes, and designed so there's no path or terrain she can't climb. She’s a beast." He swings his leg over, standing up and offering the bike to me. "Want a turn?"
I look at the bike, then look at him. "You’re letting me ride your bike?"
"I've seen you ride, remember? You’re the only person I’d trust with her." He steps back, gesturing to the seat. "Go ahead. The strip is a mile long, so it's perfect for a straight shot."
I should turn around and go back to bed, but my hands are already itching for the throttle, and I can feel my blood pounding in anticipation and excitement.
"One lap," I cave.
"Take as many as you need."
I climb on. The seat is still warm from his body, and I find that information intimate in a way that makes my breath hitch. I quickly push that thought to the back of my mind as I kick the stand up to turn the key. The engine roars to life beneath me, and I moan.
God, I missed this.
I twist the throttle and shoot forward. The acceleration is instantaneous. The world blurs into streaks of black and gray. The wind tears at my face, making my eyes sting, but I don't care. For the first time since I stepped off that plane, the knot in my chest loosens. There is no Richard, no Mom, no complicated stepbrother drama. Just the wind in my face.
I do three more laps before I finally slow down and head back to where Percy is waiting. He looks strangely proud of me as I kill the engine and hop off. My legs are slightly shaky from the rush, but it's nothing I can't handle. I'm just happy to feel again.