Page 7 of Spin Control

Unbelievable. “Honey, I did you a favor in there.”

She leans down, pressing her hands on the arms of the chair I’m sitting in. The posture brings her closer than she’s ever been to me, and I’m suddenly surrounded by the scent of crisp apples and vanilla smoke.

I rarely experience autumn now that I travel the world to race. During the peak months, I’m usually in the tropical humidity of Singapore before heading to the dry heat of Texas and Mexico. If I’m lucky, I can catch the tail end of the season. But more often than not, the trees are bare by the time I have a week to spend in New England.

I want to lean forward and bury my face in her shirt. But considering the look in Elizabeth Jacobs’s eyes is downright murderous, I abandon that plan.

“Do. Not. Pull. A Stunt. Like That. Ever. Again.”

“Or what?” I ask, pushing my luck. What I did was smart. The reporters will write some splashy headlines and leave us the hell alone for the rest of the weekend. “What will you do, Elizabeth? Spank me?”

A storm rolls through her dark eyes. I thought they were a rich, espresso brown, but I was wrong. They’re actually a very deep blue.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she says, her voice lower now and as biting as a winter wind. I resist the urge to shiver.

She pushes away from the chair and scoffs in disgust.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

She isn’t enjoying this. This isn’t charged posturing or heated repartee. And it’s definitely not the cheeky teasing I meant it to be.

I’m usually so good at reading the room, the vibe, women. But not this one.

I really am a disrespectful dick. I need to fix this. Immediately.

“Elizabeth,” I say, my voice serious. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” she says. “You treat your entire life like you’re in some underdog sports movie where everyone will always be cheering for you because you’re so charismatic. But you’re not dumb. You know this nightmare scenario is the opportunity you desperately need. If you don’t want to fuck it up, then you need to listen to me. You need to take me seriously. And you need to do exactly as I say. Is that clear?”

I gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy,” she says, her voice vicious with victory. “Now put that winning smile people love so much on your face and do every single thing the social team asks of you.”

The click of her heels echoes as she walks to the bar and orders her fifth coffee of the day.

Hyunjoon lets out a low whistle. “I can’t believe I just witnessed your charm fail so spectacularly.”

“Yeah,” I say, exhaling fully, before laughing. Because what the hell else am I supposed to do?

“She’s kind of terrifying,” Hyunjoon says.

Though I agree with him, I am also extremely aware of the buzz electrifying my skin, the blood rushing through my veins. I don’t know why I’m turned on right now, but there’s no denying it. I need to think about something else. I can’t have a hard-on when we’re filming social media videos. The internet will have a field day.

Then again, if they’re focused on my cock, maybe they won’t be coming up with conspiracy theories about how I might be involved with criminal bullshit.

The mind, it boggles.

“When does Sora get here?” I ask, changing the subject. They’ve been together for over a year but have kept things quiet since it isn’t normal for K-pop stars like Sora to be in public relationships. But these two are head over heels and they’ve decided they’re sick of sneaking around. So this hard launch is going to be an extremely big deal.

“She gets in tonight,” he says. “My parents are meeting her at the airport since we’ll be at the sponsor dinner.”

Something tugs in my chest as I watch his expression. His eyes have gone a bit dreamy and he can’t wipe the smile from his face. Though I’ve never had that kind of relationship, I’m glad he does—and that he’s recognized it for what it is.

“That’s great, man,” I say, meaning it. “I know this has all been pretty insane, with the news and the media and…well. Elizabeth Jacobs.”

“She’s nice to me,” Hyunjoon says. “That’s what happens when you don’t piss her off.”