“We haven’t been introduced yet,” he says in French-accented English. “I’m Adrien.”
He extends his hand to me, and I shake it. “Isla Foley. Pleasure to meet you.”
“I liked the interview you did with Caleb.”
I take him in for a moment. I’ve only seen Adrien on TV, his pale green eyes bright and focused with his visor up as he sat in his car in the famous red-and-black suit for Drago Racing, or as he walked into the paddock in jeans and a designer T-shirt, necklaces layered around his neck. Now he stands before me in a suit, his blondish-brown hair tousled, the same shade of blondish-brown stubble shading his jawline. He’s only twenty-three, and definitely someone to keep an eye on in Formula 1.
The cameras have lied. Adrien Russeau is even better looking in person. He’s not Caleb, of course, but I can objectively say he’s good-looking.
“Thank you so much,” I say. “I try to ask questions nobody else would ask.”
“I think you’ve succeeded in that,” Adrien says, flashing me a smile. “Your questions were interesting. Our press conference interviews are boring. The same questions over and over or trying to make something bigger than it is. Your interview was fun.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate that.” I pause to take a sip of my champagne. I want to look toward the door to see if Caleb has arrived yet, but I don’t want it to be obvious that I’m looking for someone. I have to be so, so careful here.
“If you need another interview, I’d be happy to do it,” Adrien says.
Ooh! Another F1 interview! And Adrien would be fascinating.
“I would love to interview you,” I say. “Thank you for offering. I’ll have the booking coordinator contact Drago communications.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I had your phone number?” Adrien asks.
Okay. Is he looking for a way to get my number or is he being practical? I’m trying to figure out a way to get around this when I feel someone staring at me. I shift my gaze briefly from Adrien, looking around the boutique, and then my breath catches in my throat.
Because the person staring at me is Caleb.
Our gazes meet across the room for the briefest of moments, a fleeting glance on my part before I shift my gaze away so nobody can assume anything. But my stomach has flipped upside down in excitement, something it’s done more times with Caleb than it has with any other man I’ve ever met.
Even though my eyes are now on Adrien, I can feel Caleb’s arctic-blue eyes bearing into me from a distance, unwavering since he spotted me.
Suddenly my body grows hot, and I’m not even looking at Caleb. If I’m reacting like this and he’s across the room from me, I can’t imagine how I’ll react when we’re face to face.
“Here,” Adrien says, handing me his phone. “Just put your number in there. I’ll pass it on to the Drago team and they can get with you to set it up.”
I put my number into his phone and hand it back to him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Caleb is approaching us, weaving his way through the crowd. It takes all my willpower to continue to look at Adrien instead of him, but I manage to do it until he walks up and claps Adrien on the back. I allow myself to stare at him, looking so damn hot in his black suit and white dress shirt.
“Adrien,” Caleb says, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
“Stopping off before a Drago event,” he says, smiling at Caleb. Then Adrien’s gaze shifts back to me. “It’s always a good event for meeting different people.”
Caleb doesn’t say anything, but his expression changes. His jaw is firm, and there’s heat in his eyes.
But it’s not desire.It’s jealousy.
Ooh!
“Caleb,” I say, smiling at him, “it’s good to see you again.”
My voice causes him to blink. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are locked on mine. “Isla, hello,” he says. “How are you finding Monaco so far?”
“It’s a gorgeous country. And it seems as if I’m discovering more and more things to like about it the longer I stay here,” I say, knowing he’ll understand I’m speaking in code.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Caleb says.
A shiver races through me, but I manage to nod and force myself to look away before anything becomes obvious.