A SECOND CHANCE MAY BE TOO HOT TO HANDLE
They say there are no second chances, and for Lily Onassis, ever since she walked away from Formula World driver Max Becker, she's considered this true. Instead of a glitzy, glamorous life on the auto racing...
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LILY
"Crap, crap, crap."
I shove my feet into the pair of sneakers near the door of the suite. I'm never late for appointments or meetings, but tonight I'm a mess. It's already ten minutes after nine, and I just hung up with Dad's doctor. I've decided to stay at Dad's suite instead of home, since I'll likely want to collapse after this meeting with Max and can't bear another ride in bumper-to-bumper Miami traffic.
After I snatch my purse off the bed, I race out of the room, down the hall and the elevator, and walk outdoors to the pool bar. The crowd is beautiful and sleek, quintessentially Miami, and I'm painfully aware that I look like hell, a manatee in a sea filled with models.
No one recognizes me, and I like that. It's my superpower, being able to seamlessly blend in anywhere. I used to think it was a curse being plain, but now I know otherwise.
The pool area is low-lit, but I can make out Max sitting in the back corner on the edge of a cabana, looking like a rich tourist instead of a man who drove around a track for three hours at 200 MPH only hours earlier. Tall palms sway with the warm breeze, and a hint of pool chlorine and coconut oil hangs in the air.
Pop music that I don't entirely recognize hums along in the background, and a few people are deep in conversation over expensive cocktails. There are few people from the team in the hotel; I know this because Adam informed me that they're packing up the garage and temporary buildings on the track and leaving for the next race in Texas.
These are race fans, rich ones, who are wringing out one more night of partying.
Maxlifts his hand and waves me over, butthere's no smile on his face. For the hundredth time, I'm wondering why he's asked me here.
As I walk to his cabana, I stare at my feet. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm eager to impress him, although one look at me and he'll know I'm not trying to make an impression on anyone. My hair looks like a ferret's nest and my face is ashen and worn. He probably thinks I've just crawled out of a garbage pile. Or worse. I'm trying to forget that he's been photographed over the years with the world's most beautiful models and actresses.
When I reach the cabana, he holds the curtain open for me. The interior is illuminated by two faux candles, making everything seem insistently sensuous. There are two chairs and a loveseat clustered around a low wooden table. I choose the chair. "I'm so sorry. I've been waiting for the hospital to call with an update about Dad, and they just did only fifteen minutes ago."
"How is he?" Max sprawls on the loveseat, his eyes full of intensity. My face flashes hot, because I'm feeling that old spark between us. The one that first flared when he was a new to Formula World, only twenty years old.
I nod slowly. "He's...okay. As well as can be expected. The surgery went a little longer than expected — four hours — but it went quite well. They're observing him in the ICU and I should be able to see him tomorrow. He had a near-total blockage in one artery and they said it could've been..."
