I tell Santi that I’ll meet him at the sponsored event since Sophie and I will take a car together. He fails to hide his curiosity when he asks to meet the new friend I made, claiming he wants to make sure I’m not out corrupting a poor soul. His overprotection has hit new levels ever since we joined the F1 tour.
“Okay, break down the guys for me. I haven’t been around these people for like three years.” Sophie doesn’t miss a beat, wanting a rundown before we’ve seen any of them inside the ballroom. Not that I blame her. I wish I had been half as prepared because these men ooze confidence and sensuality.
“You know my brother and Noah, obviously. I met Liam at the other Prix, and he’s a total flirt. No promises that he may or may not eye-fuck you. Just a warning.”
Sophie’s eyes narrow. “I haven’t seen him since before my freshman year of college. But I’ve read stories of him in the tabloids. Lately he’s been popping up everywhere after he slept with his boss’s niece.” Her lips tip down in a frown.
I cringe at the information about Liam because what a low blow for his standing with McCoy. Bad timing with his contract renewal.
“Yeah, I don’t know how wrong the gossip columns are about these guys, so I barely pay attention to them. But that’s all I can share because I haven’t met any of the other racers yet.”
“This sponsor event is for the entire Prix so I’m sure you’ll see them in all of their hotness, at least from far away. Sometimes I question if it’s a requirement for F1 racers to be ridiculously attractive. Sex sure sells.” She lifts one brow.
I shake my head at her comment. Her assumption can’t be far off, at least from the press videos and interviews I’ve seen on YouTube over the years.
We enter the ballroom. There are ginormous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, dimly illuminating the room as classical music fills the air, while waiters offer appetizers and small plates of food. I love attending these events to see what party planners come up with. The venue looks beautiful and extravagant, bright lights glistening off my sequin dress.
Sophie and I make our way toward the bar, linking our arms together to make it through the crowd, sliding past a series of suits. Alcohol is a must at these types of events. I quickly learned that lesson after one too many boring conversations about race cars and bank accounts.
Sophie pulls us into an empty spot at the bar. Liam conveniently occupies the area next to her, not holding back as his eyes roam over her.
“Sophie, I haven’t seen you in years.” His baby blues smolder. I try to not feel offended that he shares an interest in her after flirting with me. But I guess I should expect it since all these guys have the sex drives of teenagers.
“Liam.” She nods her head politely. Strange way to greet someone you haven’t seen in a while.
“What can I get you two fine ladies?” He waggles his brows.
“Isn’t it an open bar?” Sophie’s wit shines through and I love it. She may become my favorite person during this whole Championship business.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t order it for you. Make a man feel useful.” He places a hand on his chest and pouts his lip.
“Because you, of all people, need your ego stroked more than usual. Yeah right… But I’ll take a Moscow Mule.” Sophie flashes a smirk, making a dimple pop out.
He grins at her before he looks at me expectantly.
“I’ll have the same.”
Liam politely covers the tip for the bartender, making himself needed after all.
“Why do you two want to spend your night hanging with stuffy men? They’re such a bore.” He clinks his beer bottle to our glasses, along with a quick cheers before he takes a swig. Sophie’s eyes stay planted on Liam as his lips tug on the bottle.
“I’m on the hunt for my future husband. Was thinking of someone between the ages of forty and fifty. Old enough to pay for everything I want, young enough to not have a wrinkly dick.”
I choke on my drink. Sophie shrugs at me while Liam’s eyes linger on her chest for a second too long.
Pull it together, man.
“Sixty and older means you’ll only have to rinse your mouth with bleach for ten years instead of twenty.” Liam weighs the invisible options in his hands, beer bottle bobbing along with him.
“Unlike Sophie who wants to become a mail-order bride, I came because my brother drags me everywhere.”
“How’s your brother transitioning with our broody prince?” Liam turns toward me before his eyes drift back to his new interest. His eyes narrow at her lips wrapping around a straw, eye-fucking her as she sucks on her drink.