Faster Deeper (Take Me...#2) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) Read Online Free

over the keypad while my brain scrambles to
come up with something to say. Finally, I settle on two simple words:
    “Not now.”
    I’d hate to be on the receiving end of a vague text like
that, especially with our stakes being so damn high, but what choice do I have?
I’ve got to stall until I figure out a way to fix this. Harrison will
understand, in time.
     

Chapter Three
Russian Rendezvous

     
     
    After we’ve touched down in Russia and made it to our next
hotel, I barely make it into bed before I collapse, exhausted. The emotional
toil of these past few days has finally caught up with me. I’ve never been one
to sleep in, but I don’t wake up again until noon the next day. Moscow may be a
gorgeous, fascinating city, and any other time I’d love to do a little
exploring...but today I’d rather not leave my bed, if I can help it.
    I’ve hardly been awake for a minute when I hear my phone
buzzing persistently in my purse. Groaning, I pull myself out of bed and blink
blearily at my iPhone’s screen. My stomach drops a foot as I see another text
from Harrison’s number.
    “I’m starting to get worried, here,” it reads.
    I bite my lip, staring down at the message. If the tables
were turned and Harrison was icing me out, I’d probably be busting down his
hotel door by now. I hate doing this to him.
    A knock on my door startles me out of my sleepy stupor.
    “C-come in,” I stutter, hastily deleting Harrison’s message
from my phone.
    My bedroom door eases open, revealing my father. I wait for
him to make a judgmental remark about the fact that I’m still in bed, but
instead he remains quiet. There’s a look on his face that I haven’t seen
before. He looks anxious, and if I didn’t know better...I’d almost think he
looked sad.
    “Dad...are you OK?” I ask, as he closes the door behind him.
    “What? Oh. Yeah, of course,” he says, smiling thinly, “I
just wanted to come check on you is all.”
    Now I know that something must be up. My dad’s never “just
come to check on me” in my life, especially not when his mind is consumed with
an impending race. Dad wasn’t a cruel or totally negligent father, but it was
always very clear to Enzo and I that his career as a driver had to come first
in all circumstances. Luckily for us, he was winding down his time on the track
by the time our ages hit double digits. Most F1 drivers opt out of racing by
the time they hit their late thirties, and Alfonso Lazio was no exception.
    Dad was a racing wunderkind in his day, and was a
well-respected driver well before he made it big in his mid-twenties. His
whirlwind career charged ahead for more than a decade. He married my mother and
saw both of his children born while he was Team Ferrelli’s star driver. But at
some point, he decided to take on a less dangerous role in the world of F1.
When I was five years old, Dad hung up his helmet and moved on to the world of
management. He doesn’t own Team Ferrelli, but he’s one of the team’s most
influential shareholders. This way, he’s still involved with his team and
sought out for advice, but doesn’t have to get tangled up in anything he’d
rather not deal with. Mostly, he concentrates on grooming Enzo, and he’s
obviously been doing a bang-up job, at that.
    “Are you just waking up?” he asks now, sitting down at the
desk.
    “Oh...yeah. Just catching up,” I say vaguely.
    “Well. You’ve earned a bit of a rest,” he tells me, “I know
that this championship season hasn’t been the most peaceful.”
    A hundred memories of Harrison flood my mind, unbidden. If
my dad had any idea just how exciting this season has been for me—
    “You look a little flushed,” he says, “Everything alright?”
    “Oh. Yep. Yeah,” I say, wanting to kick myself for blushing
like a damn schoolgirl, “Did you, uh, need me to do something? Work-related, I
mean?”
    “No, no,” Dad says, a smile lifting the corners of his
mouth, “But I like that industrious