Driven to Protect, page 17
Paulo covered his face deliberately then dropped his hands to show his big smile. “I’ll never live that one down, will I?”
“I take it that the two of you are working better as teammates now?” Freddy asked.
“Apart from that race, I’ve always enjoyed having Paulo as a teammate. He works hard and listens to team orders.”
Paulo made a big deal of rolling his eyes. “Says the driver who benefits from team orders the most often.”
“How about we leave it there? Team orders is far too a contentious topic for tonight’s launch.” Alicia smiled. “Let’s talk about the upcoming season. What preparations have you been doing over the winter break, Paulo? You mentioned mental health, which is such an important topic.”
“To be honest, I spent the first month doing nothing much. It’s a very long season and I felt it was important to get away from racing for a while and recharge everything.” Paulo couldn’t help looking at Cohen. The urge to tell the world he’d spent the winter break getting fucked by his incredible boyfriend flourished for half a second of raw panic before it faded, and he managed to aim for saying something bland. “I guess I just did normal things; hanging out with friends, binge watching a few tv shows, eating, that sort of thing.”
“Did we see photos of Edinburgh on your social media?”
“Yes. I did have a fun couple of days in Scotland doing some shopping for a friend’s wedding.” He wanted to tell everyone about Cohen, so he quickly changed the subject to avoid the temptation. Enzo was here for fuck’s sake. “I met a few fans while we were there, who wanted photos. It’s always great to talk to people who are as excited for the upcoming season as I am.”
“Fans make this possible for all of us,” Freddy said.
“Very true. I appreciate every fan, even when they make memes that don’t show me in the best light.”
“Let’s leave that one for now,” Alicia laughed. “I’d rather hear about your shopping trip. Everyone loves a good wedding. I hope you bought them a present they’ll love.”
“Of course. I went all the way to Scotland specially to get it.” Paulo grinned. “But I’m not going to say any more, because they might be watching tonight, and Scotland is enough of a hint.”
Alicia nodded. “Nice. It sounds like your friend is very lucky. And you, Ondrej? How was your winter break?”
“It was excellent. We had a big family Christmas, and then my husband, Hudson, had a research job that took him to Australia, so we spent a few weeks there.” The way Ondrej spoke about having a husband so easily would always be amazing to Paulo. “Like Paulo said, it’s good to have that time away from racing. The season is long and intense and requires a high level of focus...”
“Huh?” Paulo interjected just for the laughs, and the audience loved it.
“Sanchez, how many times have I said...”
“Don’t eff ... ing drive into me.” Paulo grinned. He waited until the laughter died down. “Shall we take a look at the car now?”
“Great idea. This is the moment, we’ve all—”
A shout rang out. “Jesus hates gays.”
Paulo’s body instantly shifted to high alert—just like the beginning of a race—his heart beating in time with the lights going out one by one. His heart thumped. A blonde man jumped onto the raised platform near the car. Cohen burst from behind the camera. Paulo’s heart thumped in time with Cohen’s long strides. Just like driving into a corner at high speed, the world slowed down. His focus increased. He moved to protect the car, bumping shoulders with Ondrej, who’d done the same. Cohen leaped. He flew through the air and crash tackled the man. Thud. There was a split-second silence. Paulo held his breath until Cohen moved. More incoherent screams about Jesus filled the air. Louder than the thundering of Paulo’s heart. His ears roared with noise.
“Holy shit.” Freddy’s voice rang out clear through his microphone. The man shouted again. Then nothing. Cohen rolled the man over, and stood above him, holding the man’s hands clamped together at an awkward angle. More of Gamble’s staff arrived on the stage. Together they dragged the intruder off the stage. The audience applauded. Paulo’s chest puffed out. Look at his amazing boyfriend. He glanced at Ondrej who stood beside him, between the altercation and the front wing, protecting the car.
Alicia was the first to recover. “Please excuse the unscheduled interruption to our programming.”
“And how about another round of applause for our security personnel?” Freddy’s professionalism shone out too. Cohen bowed, then walked back to where he’d been standing. Paulo used that as his cue to walk back to his spot on the stage. The diners cheered and clapped.
“Shall we move on?” Ondrej asked once the general applause died down. “I’m rather keen to show everyone the car.”
“Yes. The car.” Paulo added, kind of uselessly, but he was still stunned at the whole drama. His ears still roared with the rush of blood in his veins. Cohen had put himself in danger to protect everyone; not just Paulo. What if the man had a knife? He swallowed, trying to shake off the image of Cohen lying on the stage injured and bleeding. It hadn’t happened. Cohen had done his job. He’d removed the threat. Effectively. The blood rushing in his veins started to move to a new beat. Lust.
“Everyone. The moment we’ve all come here to see. The GR-S390.” Freddy’s announcement was followed by dramatic lighting, loud music, and the slow lifting of the cloth cover from the car. Earlier today Paulo had been dreading this moment because Victor had named the car the S390 as a joke. It meant that the engine had failed to get past 400kph during testing, something that irritated Victor. No S1 car had reached those sorts of speeds in racing conditions, and it was unlikely given the regulations. An impossible goal, and yet one that Victor wanted to reach. The highest ever straight-line speed during a race was 372.5kph, a record set a few years earlier. Victor’s goal was a long way off reality. But none of that mattered now. Not after the intrusion, because all he wanted to do was kiss Cohen and tell him how fucking incredible he was. He wanted to reveal the car—get the job over with—and spend the rest of the night with Cohen. Ondrej nudged Paulo and he lifted his head with a start. Shit.
“Looks good, huh?”
“It looks fast.” It was the obvious thing to say and required zero thought, which was good because his brain was actively trying to distract himself from wanting Cohen. Desire burned inside him.
“Almost as fast as our security staff dealt with the intruder.” Ondrej’s smile did nothing to help the fire inside him. He glanced over at Cohen who was doing that thing where he looked relaxed but was scanning everyone carefully. Paulo forced himself to focus on the event. He was being recorded; and his own reactions—his desire—would have to wait until later.
“Yes.” He shook his head to try and clear the way lust was making everything foggy. “That’s why we have security staff, although I doubt anyone could’ve predicted a religious bigot at a car racing launch party.” His voice sounded weird; rumbling and rough. He covered the microphone clipped to his collar and coughed.
“Anything is possible. Gamble Racing is starting to get a reputation for drama at their car launches,” Freddy said. “Last year, stolen trophies, this year...”
“Perhaps next year, we’ll disappoint everyone and go back to boring car reveals where everyone applauds politely and says all the right things about the car looking fast.” The crowd laughed at Ondrej’s comment.
“It’d be nice to live a world where our security revolved around design. I’m grateful that we have security personnel, especially tonight, because as entertaining as it might be for Freddy, interruptions ... especially those with a bigoted message targeting some of the Gamble Racing team, well they take the attention away from the point of tonight.” His heart was still thumping hard at Cohen’s efforts to protect him and Ondrej. “Let’s not give any more attention to hatred. Tonight we are here to celebrate the GR-S390, a car that I’m incredibly excited to drive at pre-season testing. Gamble Racing has an extraordinary talent in our Chief Engineering Victor Tsui and the design team he has assembled.” He was rambling now. Damn it.
“Speaking of design, do we see some innovations on the bargeboards?” Alicia asked. Thank fuck for professionals. He forced himself to breathe a few times instead of answer and keep on talking and talking.
“Do you?” Ondrej walked around the side of the car and peered at it closely. “Paulo; can you remember what last year’s bargeboards looked like?” Ondrej’s exaggerated wink and his cagey answer created a wave of whispers through the crowd.
“Well, I can’t wait until pre-season testing,” Freddy said. Paulo couldn’t wait until tonight’s launch was over and he could lean against a wall—any wall—and be kissed by Cohen. He wanted to get on his knees for him and show him how hot it was to have him literally fly through the air to protect Paulo.
“Then we’ll see how fast this car really is,” Ondrej said.
“And on that positive note, that brings our launch presentation to a close. Everyone. The GR-S390,” Alicia said. Loud applause filled the room and the lights changed, with one bright light focused on the car, and the rest of the stage dark. The four of them walked off the front of the stage towards the tables reserved for them. He sat beside Socrates and Ondrej joined their table too.
“Nice work by your bodyguard.” Socrates picked up his glass of sparkling water and Paulo grabbed his own water glass and tapped it against Socrates’ one.
“Thank you.” He couldn’t wait until tonight was over and he could show Cohen exactly how he felt on seeing Cohen leap through the air to protect him and the car.
Chapter 19
Finally, the party was over. He’d gone through the motions of talking to his brother, Enzo, and the various clients of Sanchez Shipping who’d been invited to the Sanchez sponsorship tables for the dinner and launch. It was time to rush with Cohen back to their room in Socrates’ massive house and beg to be fucked. Quietly so that no one could hear—although it was likely the rooms besides theirs were empty—and mostly because it was fucking hot when Cohen told him to be silent. The agony of it was exactly what Paulo adored. He wanted all the energy of Cohen’s protective tackle aimed at him. He would be obedient and earn Cohen’s affection.
After saying good night to Socrates and Mike, he signalled to Cohen, and they walked away from the ballroom together. The rabbit warren of hallways in Socrates’ ancient mansion eventually led him to a staircase and the northern wing to the room he and Cohen were in. The house had been built by a Duke hundreds of years ago and had centuries of additions had turned it into a massive space that could easily host a hotel, but without any room numbers or staff or even a map to help anyone navigate their way around the place.
“This place is incredible. It’s like being in an old movie.” Cohen walked beside him along the hallway. It was late at night with long shadows cast by the dim infrequent lights. At some point in the last century, they’d been upgraded to electric lights, yet it was still gloomy in the hallway. Imagine how dim it would’ve been when they were candles.
“It probably has been in a few movies. Socrates has a house manager who does all that sort of stuff.” Paulo grew up in a similarly sized house, although the Sanchez mansion was much newer; custom built when Senior made his first billion. Senior’s home had plenty of staff to run the whole place, and it wasn’t until he left at fourteen to go to driving school, that he’d realised it wasn’t normal. On the scale of rich kids at his school, he was at the top end. It had always fascinated him how it was the kids who were the least wealthy—barring the few on scholarships—who worked so hard to prove they belonged in the rich kid’s club. Class differences still existed among the wealthy with billionaire’s children at the top of the pile. He’d done nothing to earn that spot. It’d been granted to him courtesy of Senior’s wealth and in hindsight, the whole thing was strange as people aspired to be him, when all he’d wanted was to drive and race. Back then, he’d hadn’t realised what a privilege it’d been to not worry about money and could just focus on his goal.
“I mean, look at the detailing on each door.” Cohen stopped to trace one of the old oak doors that led to one of the bedrooms.
“I’d rather spend my time looking at you.” Paulo’s feet were itchy with the need to get Cohen into their room and undressed.
“Aren’t you sweet?” Cohen sounded more snarky than usual.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” Cohen sighed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little unsettled by tonight’s thing.”
Paulo pushed open the door to their room—the aptly named Screaming Cock room—with bright wallpaper covered in hand-painted roosters strutting across the walls. Trust Socrates to call the room something that was both rude, apt, and spectacularly over the top.
“Unsettled? I thought you were incredibly sexy.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I’d watch you take out weird ... um, religious bigots every day.”
Cohen blushed. “I’m sure someone has made a gif of it.”
Paulo rolled his eyes. “Fuck. What a world we live in.”
“Says the celebrity who has hundreds of gifs of him in existence.” Cohen’s shoulders slumped and Paulo reached out and hugged him.
“Hey. You were great. I’m really proud of you.”
“For doing my job?”
“Yes. And being generally awesome.”
Cohen sighed, a long deep sigh. “But I’m not awesome. I didn’t see him until he was on the stage with you. I left it until it was almost too late.”
Paulo cupped Cohen’s cheeks. “Repeat after me. I’m good at my job.”
“I’m good at my job. “Cohen’s gaze darted away.
“Again. You are good at your job. I’m safe. Please don’t bash yourself for some invented—”
“It’s not invented. I was too busy looking at you to notice him.”
“But you did notice, and you weren’t too late. You saved the day. Heroically. In spectacular fashion.”
Cohen frowned. “Thanks.”
Paulo kissed him on the end of his nose. “Seriously. I was very impressed, and I’m the only person you need to impress.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I just want to solve your problems and make you feel better. It’s not like you to be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m allowed to have high expectations for myself. Please don’t dismiss my observations.”
Paulo swallowed. “No. I ...” He paused. “Tell me why you think you weren’t amazing tonight.”
“I’m too invested in us. I was distracted by watching you do your job. You looked incredible and all I could think about was kissing you after the show. And then that man was on stage screaming obscenities at you. I should’ve seen him earlier. I didn’t even notice that he had his poster and I should’ve. I’m only hard on myself because it’s my job to make sure you don’t have to listen to stuff like that when you are—”
“Working?”
“No. When you are still uncertain about who you are.” Cohen’s frown deepened.
“Cohen. I’m not uncertain about who I am.”
“You aren’t?”
“No. I’m the world’s tenth best driver. I’m pansexual. And I’m in love with you.”
Cohen’s mouth gaped open, and Paulo reached out to brush his thumb over Cohen’s bottom lip.
“I worry about telling people about us for external reasons; money, my career, my father. I definitely doubt whether I can be openly me. I don’t doubt that I love you. If my life was simple, and there wasn’t a team of six hundred people relying on my father’s sponsorship, then I’d be open and out with you.”
“So it’s not ...?” Cohen’s pause made Paulo’s heart clench. He wished he could shout their love to the world. Having Enzo at tonight’s dinner and the scowl on his face and the nasty little jibs afterwards reminded him why he couldn’t.
“You. No, it’s not you. I love you.” He stepped closer to Cohen, holding his face gently. “I know that when we met, I wasn’t out to anyone except a few random people I’d hooked up with once, and I had a lot of internalised homophobia to deal with. I’m still dealing with that, and will be for a while if I’m honest, but being with you has taught me something wonderful. That a life lived in the shadows isn’t a life at all, and of course I’m going to be careful around my father. I’m not sure I can be careful forever. I just want to tell everyone how amazing you are and how I get to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
“What’s the matter?” His speech had fallen flat.
“Your team pays me handsomely to protect you. Tonight, I almost didn’t do that. What if next time I fail?”
Paulo kissed Cohen on the forehead. “You are a person, Cohen. People make mistakes.”
“I should’ve been scanning the crowd, not watching you.” The idea that he was so distracting for Cohen sent a shiver of delight up his spine. He knew he’d fallen hard for Cohen, but to hear it worked the same way for Cohen was incredible.
“Maybe, but in the end it doesn’t matter because you fucking smashed that guy and it was awesome.” Paulo kissed Cohen before he could protest again, pouring all the lust from tonight into the kiss. Cohen responded by gripping Paulo on the hips and kissing back. The kiss said everything Paulo had already told him; he adored Cohen, loved him, and wanted to spend all his days with him. Paulo kissed Cohen as if this was the last time he’d ever kiss him and he needed to retain his taste forever.
“I forgive you and I love you.” He whispered in Cohen’s ear, then dragged his lips over Cohen’s cheek.
“Thank you. Next time I will focus on my job. A fuck up like that won’t happen again.” Cohen kissed him with that raw confidence that Paulo had adored from the moment they’d met; kissing him with long strokes of his tongue, the same, delicious, dominant way he always did. The moment that Cohen took charge filled Paulo with heat; he fucking loved it when Cohen did that with a subtle angle of his head and a simple push with his hands on Paulo’s hipbones. Paulo’s spine hit the back of the door with a thump and before he knew it, he was pushed up against the door, surrounded by Cohen. Trapped in heaven; if the pearly gates were on fire with heat licking at his skin. And when Cohen rubbed himself along the hard length of Paulo’s cock, he shuddered, having to concentrate carefully so he didn’t come in his racing suit. The suit was designed to keep fire out, away from his skin, not to boil him alive with lashing of desire.
