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“It’s just that I’ve been in Vegas for months and haven’t done any ‘normal’ things.”
Annie smiles. “It’s not too late to start.”
She’s right.
“Hey,” I call to my security guard, who crosses to me from where he’s standing next to some slots. “Why don’t you take tonight off?”
“I’m not sure Mr. King would like that.”
“Do you see Mr. King here?” I lift my hands. “I’ll make sure you’re paid. But the last time I checked, you can’t protect someone without their consent.”
When he clasps his hands and nods tightly, I huff out a breath of satisfaction.
It’s not quite normal, but it’s a step in the right direction.
* * *
HARRISON
“About time you came to check on your investment,” Oliver chides me.
“I stopped by the track yesterday but didn’t make it to the garage.”
Engineers rush past us toward the sleek, fully custom carbon fiber car that pulls into the bay for servicing.
My gaze locks on the logo of my company, Echo Entertainment, on the rear wing of the car.
I pass Oliver the envelope from my jacket pocket. He opens it, his graying brows staying level despite the number of zeroes on the check. “We look forward to our continued relationship with Echo Entertainment.”
“You look forward to our sponsorship paying for your holiday house,” I reply, and he grins.
“That too. Tell me, what are you working on?”
A capable businessman himself, Oliver is always curious to hear about my work. And he’s discreet.
“A partnership with Wicked Records to promote their young talent.”
Oliver smiles as he surveys his garage. “The kids that race here start out in karts. They eat-sleep-breathe the things until they make it to the pinnacle, or they top out at the minor leagues. Everyone wants to be here. To do this. But there’re only twenty driver jobs in the world. It’s a cruel interview process.”
His gaze lands on the man shifting out of the silver car, passing his helmet to his trainer before coming over.
“Hell of a lap. Fastest of any team all day so far,” Oliver tells the young man with dark hair and eyes bluer than my brother’s.
The man grimaces. “I lost the line in the fourth corner. We need to look at the rear wing angle. And tires will be an issue come Sunday if this heat continues.” He’s motioning to one of the engineers before he finishes talking.
Oliver nods. “Gray, this is Harrison King. Harrison—“
“I know who he is, Oliver.” I shake hands with the top up-and-coming driver on the circuit. The cool, confident young driver could pass for a modern-day aristocrat. If I didn’t know he had millions of followers on account of his performance, his looks would’ve made it inevitable. “You’re going to win world championships and do it with my company’s name on your sleeve.”
“I trust we’ll see you in the front row on Sunday.”
“Unfortunately, you won’t.”
Oliver scoffs. “You have somewhere better to be than the hottest ticket in town?”
“Yes. My wedding.”
“Well, fuck. Congratulations. Let me know what I can do for the happy couple.”
