Off the Track Series Book 2
Elsa has been alone nearly all her life. Thrown into a career she didn't choose out of sheer need. But now, for the first time in nearly a decade life has given her the chance to take up her dreams and join the Ferrari te...
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Which is how I find myself in Monaco. In a club. In an itty bitty yellow dress. Alone at the bar in a room full of formula one drivers.
Amelia, nowhere to be found. If I know her she's likely down on the floor dancing with Charles. They've been hot and heavy since October supposedly, but I suspect long before that. Given the day we met he came over and puked on her shoes.
Legendary.
Right now?
Not so much.
At first, when I admitted to being celibate for nearly six months, she'd laughed at me. Until she realized it was no joke, which turned into her instance I show up to party tonight.
I'm feeling extremely out of place, not knowing a soul in here. I knew I should have stayed in tonight.
"Do I know you?" A french accent asks me from the side and I swing to face the first person to break the ice. Pierre.
Do you know me?
No, but I know you.
But I play it cool, "Do I know you?" I give him a small smile while slipping my drink.
There's no chance he'd remember seeing me with Daniel a time or two last year, granted as I am sure he has a usual flow of women in and out.
I haven't seen Daniel here tonight yet either.
Disappointing.
Not disappointing, good. I really shouldn't think of it that way.
But I do think Pierre is attractive, once blonde hair darker now and with the most perfectly shaped lips. But I do so hate the french accent. A little too posh.
But six months is a really long time for a girl of only twenty two.
"Pierre." He extends a hand as if we are business men and I instinctively reach out to shake it firmly, well trained over the last few years. "I swear you look so familiar."
I wonder how many times he's used that line before.
Betting it works fairly often too.
"Elsa" I offer, noting his surprise at my firm grip.
"Hell of a grip you've got there." He comments on it, ordering another round for us both. I do love a man who doesn't let your drink go empty. This could be promising. I haven't gotten laid since fucking November, so long I'm nearing the ninety day mark. Depressing for a woman of only twenty three, but work kept me so busy. Selling it had been a lot of work. Selling the house, even more work.
But for the first time in my life I am free as a bird.
Nothing to tie me down.
And it feels fucking fantastic.
Feels like I want to get laid.
Time to flirt then "I assure you, I'm very capable with my hands." I tease him. Picking up on his face that he loves it. Bold can be better with men.
