Page 56 of The Mastermind
She was gone.
Just as well. Being buckled into my safety harness by my crew while sporting a hard-on would be embarrassing for all involved.
But for every one of the sixty-two laps and one hundred and ninety miles, I would plan the many and varied ways I’d celebrate my race win between Maddelena’s juicy thighs.
She would feel me deep inside her for the next week.
The rousing Italian anthem celebrating my win – I’d fight anyone who didn’t agree it was the best in the world – ended to the perfect sync of exploding fireworks along the start-finish straight. My grin threatened to split my face as the crowd and my crew screamed their joy.
Rafa stood with each arm around Bibi’s and Dante’s shoulders. Beside me, Renzo beamed from the second-place step.
It felt fucking good to be back where we belonged. Even if the driver to my left had given up any semblance of civility.
‘Enjoy it while it lasts, old man,’ Narciso muttered under the guise of offering congratulations.
I clasped the back of his neck, letting my fingers dig into his skin. He hissed and tried to back away, but I tightened my hold.
‘Keep it up, squirt,’ I breathed, my teeth bared in a smile. ‘I’m more than happy to teach you one or two things about good manners.’
He looked considerably paler and less petulant when I let him go, and I made sure to aim the Jeroboam-sized champagne spray right in his eyes, then left Renzo to laugh in his face as he sputtered. There was only so much juvenile behaviour I was willing to lower myself to.
Grabbing my trophy after the obligatory photos, I stepped off the podium.
And saw her.
She stood beneath the podium, next to the pit lane wall. Her sunglasses were perched above her head now, and so I snagged her stare easily.
Her crew surrounded her, but none were paying attention. I throttled the urge to wink, torn by the apprehension on her face.
My win meant her loss. Possible repercussions. I didn’t –shouldn’t– care.
They’d made their risky bed, attempted to gain the upper hand with underhanded means. That sucked for her. I was a Salvatore. Weneverlet shit like that slide.
Besides, she had nothing to fear as long as I kept her inmybed and she kept her mouth shut, right?
I locked eyes and raised the bottle to her as I took another gulp. Anyone watching would think I was taunting her – as was my blood-given right – not imagining spreading her naked on my penthouse terrace, drenching her in champagne and lapping up the bubbles straight from her pussy as the fireworks announcing my victory exploded above our heads.
She hastily broke eye contact when her brother approached where I stood, champagne bottle in his hand. The smile she turned on looked forced, her eyes sombre. My chest tightened but I shrugged that off too, turned and walked away.
No matter.
I planned on putting a much more satisfactory look on her face before the night was over.
Enrico, my personal trainer, approached with a half-gallon bottle of water, holding out his hand for the champagne. ‘You need to hydrate.’
‘You’re no fucking fun.’ I grimaced and handed it and the trophy over, then gulped down several mouthfuls of water. Hewas a hard taskmaster but I had him to thank for my excellent physique.
When he’d satisfied himself that I wasn’t about to collapse into a dried-out husk, he nodded. ‘Rafaelle is looking for you. I told him to meet you in the ice bath room after your media interviews. Can I trust you to do your stretches before then?’
I grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Have I ever let you down?’
He smiled. ‘No. And it’s good to see you in a good mood. It’s been a while.’
‘Winning always puts me in a good mood, Rico.’ The only thing that would top that right now was being balls deep in Maddelena’s cunt with nothing between us, but the wait was a sweet torment I could withstand. Barely.
The media interviews were a breeze, my irritation not even rising above a simmer when the usual stupid questions about rivalries with the Mancinellis came up.
I half-unzipped my outer race suit, letting it hang from my waist as I headed to the ice bath room. I fucking hated ice baths but the results were undeniable, so they’d become a necessary evil in my post-race regime.
