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After being dumped, Isla Morris makes a pact with her ex's biggest competition, F1 driver Matthew Carr, to get inside Lucas's head.
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Isla Morris is dating the world's best F1 racer - at least, she w...
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Matthew liked to think that he approached most things in life calmly.
When Matthew crashed during a race, he did an assessment for injuries. When the crash was his fault, he apologized to his team. Matthew laughed when he spilled his coffee, took Benedict's mocking with a smile, and he never raised his voice when his mother wheedled him about finding a nice girl and settling down.
Yes.
Matthew Carr was a calm person.
But he was not calm now.
Matthew watched, slowly crushing two paper cups, as Lucas Walsh shoved his girlfriend against a metal railing and kissed her. Really kissed her. A feverish, desperate kiss, one that said, this is my girl and I'm claiming her. This would have been enough to piss Matthew off.
But Matthew was really, really pissed off as he watched Isla struggle.
She clawed at Walsh's chest, kicking and scratching, a feral cat backed into a corner. It was clear that she didn't want to be kissing Lucas. But Isla was small, and she might as well have been trying to push a semi-truck off her.
Well.
Matthew wasn't small.
And he would enjoy destroying Lucas Walsh.
"Oi!" he called. "Walsh!"
Lucas turned.
Matthew punched him in the face.
Delicious pain radiated up his forearm. Lucas staggered back, his face a comical portrait (Study in Shock, Oil on Canvas). Matthew wound up again. The second hit was harder, faster. Lucas smacked into the railing, red peppering his shirt. Blood.
"What the fuck," Lucas snarled.
Matthew seized his collar. He hauled the other boy up until he was dangling over the edge, his face tipped towards the water. Lucas's breathing grew fast. Panicked. Matthew was dimly aware of Isla saying his name, of the frenzied excitement of a gathering crowd, but he didn't care. His entire brain had shut down.
"Apologize to my girlfriend, Walsh," Matthew said calmly, "or I'm feeding you to the sharks."
Lucas grunted, clawing at his arm. Matthew tightened his grip, a chilling rage flooding every limb in his body. Every bone. Every cell.
"Oh, dear." Matthew clucked his tongue. "Was I not loud enough for you?" He shoved Lucas's head further down. "Apologize. To. Isla."
"Carr!" Someone yanked at him. "Stop it."
Matthew shook them off. "Apologize, you bastard!"
Lucas laughed. The sound ignited something, and Matthew began to shake him, rattling Walsh so hard that his teeth clenched together. Fuck the water. He'd kill him right here, on this boat. He'd strangle him. He—
